And his name is Amon.
2
AMON
I’m lyingin the bath, smoking a Cuban cigar and sipping scotch when I realize it’s going to be impossible to take my mind offher. The one girl I should not be obsessed with.
My goddamn step-sister.
She’s not blood-related, so I don’t really give a damn. But Dad will. Her mom will. I may be a cold-hearted son of a bitch, but it’s not my goal to let my lust blow up this family.
I should back away. Let her leave. I just don’t think that’s possible anymore.
I’ve barely spent any time with her, yet my desire has embedded itself in my veins. Cemented itself into my core. I woke up three times last night thinking about her.
This is absurd. I’m Amon Bleakson. Girls fall at my feet wherever I go, if not for me, then for the hopes that I might wife them up and give them a chance at my money. I could have them all. So why do I wanther?
My cell rings. It’s Chuck, my number two at Bleaks Capital, my own hedge fund that I started a few years ago. Dad doesn’t pay it much attention. He thinks it’s just my own side project that I’ll get bored of.
Little does he know.
“Yo, Chuck,” I grunt, twisting my cigar in my fingers. “What’s the news?”
“That Chinese tech company. You were right. The bad press was fake news, spread by their competitor. Stock’s rising like a goddamn rocket.”
“Where’s it at now?” I ask, sipping my scotch with a smile. The sweet taste of success.
“Twenty-two and still moving. Amon, we keep on this ride and the firm could clear two hundred million—”
“Relax, Chuck,” I bark. His tone’s too eager. The key to winning in this business is maintaining control of your emotions. “Keep watching it. The second it starts to dip, sell it all. Then go buy yourself a Porsche. My treat.”
“Shit, thanks, Amon—”
I hang up and take a victory drag from my Cuban. Yeah, it’s moments like this that remind me why I do what I do. Money is power in this world. Anybody who tells you differentdoesn’t have any.
Dad used to boss me around—tell me what to do. Not anymore. And why? Because I could buy this whole house ten times over if I wanted. I could buy his whole company too.
No one tells Amon Bleakson what to do.
Speaking of telling people what to do…
I thumb the buzzer on the wall. It only takes a couple of seconds for Joan to respond. “Y–yes?”
Her voice is so timid. Damn, her mom and that convent really did a number on her. I could see the shame in her eyes when she looked at me.
“Bring my food up,” I tell her. “The tray is in the kitchen, along with the list.”
“Okay…” she replies, so nervous.
I hang up and think back to last night.
She couldn’t have been more covered up. Head to toe in black fabric. Even her hair was hidden. But all that cloth did nothing to hide her curves.
Curves she has no idea she even owns. She’s just so innocent, it’s like she’s never been out on a date before. And given the fact that she was on her way to becoming a nun, that wouldn’t surprise me.
It also wouldn’t surprise me if no man has ever touched her.
I feel myself getting hard beneath the bubbles as the implications hit me. She signed the contract without hesitation. She didn’t even read it. That tells me all I need to know.
