The man howled and raised a large fist to either break my face or knock my head off my shoulders when someone pulled my head back by the hair and shoved his tongue into my open mouth.

I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. I grabbed the new attacker's throat, and he pulled my hand away with such ease that I didn't feel the glass shards in my back as I struggled to slide away from him.

And it was a him. It had to be.

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open, and I bit down.

The madman let me go, and I slid to the tiled floor of the host club. Hands and knees on glass and food. But I couldn't crawl away. I wouldn't let myself do that. Such movement didn't bode well. The weaker one looked, the harder attackers pushed.

So, I sat, trying to clear my head, to calm my racing heart.

Everywhere was silent now, the music had stopped, and people had gathered.

The bouncers were there. They moved to help me up, but a large shadow got in front of them and squatted down in front of me as I gasped for air and tried to stop the trembling of my entire body.

Fear, anger, rage, I didn't know which one was shaking me so forcefully that my vision had blurred.

I blinked rapidly as sweat poured off my forehead and into my eyes. My back and my thighs were on fire.

I was trying to find my collar, but my hands were shaking too much; I kept reaching behind me, but couldn't grab it.

The offending customer leaned down over the large shadow. I couldn't see him, but I recognized his voice.

"I've got this, boss," the man rumbled, and the 'boss' replied, without any hint of being out of breath, "take care of that wound."

"Boss?" the offender retorted; I could feel his tight rage in his voice.

"Take care of your wound. I'll take care of this one for you," the 'boss' stated calmly.

I still couldn't see. I could barely hear, my own heartbeat and ragged breath filling my ears, but I wanted to scream, to yell, to curse at the bastards who were treating me like some insignificant object, but I couldn't form words.

My body wasn't working the way I needed it to.

I sensed people moving away. I wanted to call them back, but my tongue was heavy, thick in my mouth.

A sharp slap struck my face. Once, twice, then my arm went up, stopping a third strike.

My vision cleared.

"Are you fucking mad?" I growled, finally finding my voice.

Black eyes stared at me, and I stared back. My gaze moved to his lips, and I confirmed that he was the one who had accosted me.

I looked up from the bloody evidence.

"What do you think you're doing?" I spat.

"You've stopped shaking," he droned.

"What?" I gasped, then I blinked. He was right, the trembling had stopped.

I looked around. Only the bouncers remained; all other customers and workers had moved away.

It was that type of club. A nightclub for people with specific tastes, a certain amount of money, and a wish to be discreet, run by nefarious characters.

The man in front of me was a regular. But he usually drank, nothing else. I had seen him many times in the past year.

I pushed his arm away.

"What was that for?" I snapped at him, this time finding my torn collar and setting it right as I pulled my shirt at the front, closing the gap that exposed my firm chest and upper abs.

His eyes were fixed where my hands held my shirt together.

"What?" he asked lazily as I staggered to my feet. I could feel my back now, and the back of my thighs, a burning sensation, but I wasn't done with the behemoth that stood with me and caused my head to lean back.

I rarely looked up at people. I stared for a second longer than I should have, and he smirked.

I frowned and stepped forward boldly. One thing I learned in the past three years was that if you gave bullies an inch, they would take a mile.

"Why did you put your tongue in my –"

He did it again. This time, we were both standing, toe to toe. His large hands held my face in place as I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for him to stop.

After a moment, he pulled back.

He stared at me. "What? No bite this time?" he droned with the ghost of a smile on his swollen lips.

My arm came up and he caught my fist. He spun me around, pulling my arm up behind my back. I bit my tongue in an effort not to cry out.

The bouncers were still standing right there. Watching.

I turned my head back as he pulled my arm with enough force to pop my shoulder out of its socket, but was stopping just short of doing so.

"Let. Me. Go," I grunted through gritted teeth.

"Will you try to hit me again?" he rumbled in my ear, his chest vibrating against my prickling back.

I didn't answer.

He pulled.

"No!" I grunted, standing on my toes to relieve the pain.

He pushed me away, toward the bouncers. I didn't turn back. I kept walking. The bouncers, there had been three of them all along, parted for me to leave.

The black-eyed man called out behind me, "You belong to me now, just so you know."

I didn't look back, didn't acknowledge him.

I went to the back of the club, the changing room for male hosts. I ripped off what remained of my shirt, saw my back in the mirror, and smashed the fucking mirror with my fist.

That was how I had met the man I would learn was Marcus Sullivan.

He had kissed me in public to claim me and to keep others off me.

I pushed the memories away. I had work to do, things to move around, and, most importantly, I needed to give Martin a very hard talking to. But before that, I needed to get my dick down before I had a car crash.

==========

Leon's POV.

FUCK! He looks so fucking good!

I've seen the pictures, but...damn that fucker's even hotter than before! I almost came from watching him walk into the room!

And when his face transformed when he saw me, I wanted to take him right there! It was just like old times!

My mind was full of Jade Malroy even as my secretary sucked me off.

"Nngh."

My secretary pulled me out of my reprieve. I glanced down at her. I had trained her well. In under a year, she had become an expert at giving head. It was almost time to let her go, to get a new toy to play with.

My cock was full on down her throat as she took all of me in expertly, doing that thing with her tongue and throat muscles that had taken her four months to get right.

"Ha!" I bit down my voice. We were in my office, the door was locked, and the room was soundproof, but as I always told my protégés and sex partners, habits were simply routines you've mastered till you no longer needed to think about them.

I didn't make it a habit of crying out. That took a very special event.

My secretary was deep throating me and clamping so hard, I knew she wanted me to finish quickly. It was almost noon, I had a meeting in five minutes, and... she was a really good secretary.

I shuddered. She swallowed. My head was tilted back as I swallowed air into my lungs; not because I was ecstatic, but because a different face and mouth were in my mind's eye, and I didn't want to sully it.

I exhaled, pulling my pants up and standing straight, as I pushed off the edge of my desk. My secretary got off her knees, wiping her lips, picking up the folder she had come in with for my signature.

She glanced back, sultry, as she headed to the door. I winked at her. She smiled and swayed her slender hips out, leaving my door open.

I went to my private bathroom to clean up. I pulled out my still hard cock and stared at it. I glanced up at my reflection in the mirror over the gold-trimmed sink surrounded by various grooming and cleaning products, and a few other special items, but those were in the drawer or cupboard.

My dick was hardening as I watched myself. My heart rate was picking up, and my chest was constricting as two polar emotions pulled at me at the same time.

==========

I had been out of the country for years. Working on my father's empire, securing my place as the new leader.

I had gone everywhere, Europe, Asia, and I had grown my personal operations. Checking on my clients, my suppliers, visiting black markets that I ran or played in, nurturing my contacts.

I had returned last year to reintegrate myself into the city.

And then, like a gift from the heavens, if there is such a thing, my father mentioned the lead prospect for that fucking mausoleum he and his generation of friends want to build. I didn't believe my ears.

When he said the name of the person he was negotiating with, my heart skipped. Literarily skipped. A feat not achieved in years.

I hadn't heard the name 'Jayden Malroy' in over a decade, but once my father said it, I saw his face. Those amber eyes, those full lips that didn't look like they belonged on a man, that deep voice that turned into something so light, so sweet, when you pushed him to the hilt.

I had shuddered at the force of the memory.

Then, I had dug into it, confirmed everything, and waited.

I knew that if I showed myself too soon, he would run. Jade was a runner, and I had always loved the chase. The little nudges I had to give, the light persuasions I had to whisper in his shell-like ears, then, the harder pressure I had to apply, up till he folded, bent, and bowed at my feet.

I had forgotten too many things, from back then, when I had tossed him away. Far too many things.

It had taken almost a year before I had realized what was missing from the parties, the club scenes, and the orgies I organized and attended, in equal measure.

That soft, yet large, delicate, yet muscular, well-toned ass. Those tight abs, that strong back, firm neck, legs, and arms of someone I had both taught and learned things from, with my own hands.

My muse. My personal test kit and canvas.

My creation.

I had molded him, transformed him, made him the most sought-after piece of ass in my circle.

A former athlete, he was strong; he could take things most others couldn't. A good boy at heart and deep in his soul, he had been obedient. So fucking compliant.

A middle child, he needed attention, care. I gave all that to him, and more. But he had wanted me to be gentle, attentive, and to be present when we fucked.

If I had wanted such shit, he would have been my boyfriend. Sure, I had let him believe he was, for a time, and that had been its own type of fun, but I was not made for soft shit.

He should have known that.

I pushed him, little things at first, then things I myself wouldn't do. And he did them. For me.

I was his god, and I loved that feeling. Some random fuck had become my reason for waking up in the morning.

But he had wanted his prayers answered; prayers of love, affection, care, but I wasn't that type of deity.

I threw him away, expecting him to come crawling back on his knees, ready to submit, to play the exact role I had given him. But he had vanished and I had dismissed him, only to miss him, but by then it was too late.

Even his family did not know where he was. His drug addict brother, the one who had given me my favorite plaything as payment for what he owed that he could no longer come up with the cash for his habit, was useless in giving me any information.

I abandoned him, too. The kid brother had been better than the elder one in every possible way.

To me, every time I fucked him, he was simply being his brother's ATM. Until I had slipped up and fallen into that worship he fed me.

Until I twisted into something I could not have imagined. I was hooked on his need for me. And I hated him for it. Punished him for it; while sinking deeper every time I pulled him under.

==========

I was fully erect. My secretary had done quality work; she was not the problem. Jayden, fucking Malroy was.

Those soft, brown eyes of his never failed to flip a switch inside me, especially when they were begging. Begging me to stop fucking him so hard, begging me to stop my friends from fucking him, double-teaming him from both holes while I watched.

And when he cried...when his tears spilled...

"Ungh!" I cried out, without reservation.

My bathroom was not only private, it was large and secure. A gun could go off in here, and no one would know.

I gasped as I held a second spill from my throbbing member in my hand.

How or when I had grabbed my dick and worked myself to coming a second time in under three minutes, I didn't know.

But those two emotions were threatening to rip me apart.

Passion, and hate.

I stared at my reflection. At my lightly perspiring face as I fought to control the tremors in my body.

"Jayden," I murmured. "You've gone round the world and come right back into my arms, where you belong."

My chest filled as I reflected on the man I had seen just a few hours ago.

"I've missed you, my crown jewel. My Jade," I whispered to his image in my mind.

I had found replacements after I had finally gotten him to leave. Finally gotten rid of a guy who pulled at my heart and mind in ways that vexed me. Vexed me so much that I almost killed him with my tests, with my urges. Urges he had driven me to.

But none had been his match. Not a single one.

"I won't make any mistakes this time, my pet. I promise. I'll keep you close this time. I won't let you go," I breathed into the silence.

As I cleaned up, and my secretary knocked lightly on my door, I pushed the entire Malroy family out of my mind.

I stepped out, clean and lightly sprayed. My secretary flushed. I had put on a fragrance she had gotten for me.

I smiled at her while I rolled my eyes internally.

Why do all these tricks think they mean more than what they can provide in the sack?! I cursed.

==========

Jayden's POV

"How can it be only one p.m.!" I cursed aloud in my office.

My dick had not gone anywhere close to the direction I needed to, and I couldn't concentrate on anything I needed to do.

I had snapped at three designers and had slammed the phone down on two suppliers.

My secretary had taken the day off. Reece was a smart man. Too fucking smart. He had heard my conversation with Martin. One I had carried out on speaker as I paced my office floor, bellowing at my only friend in the world.

"What the fuck, Martin?! How could you let this fucking happen? Are you a traitor now? Are you stabbing me in the back? How the fuck did that son of a bitch bastard get on this? How did you let this happen?" I exploded as soon as my top lawyer, Martin Cole, picked up the phone on his end.

"I'm sorry, Jade. I swear, I didn't know –" he pressed placatingly.

"How could you not know?" I shot back immediately, "You're a fucking lawyer! You're MY fucking lawyer! How many fucking years has it been? How can you fuck up like this? Are you high on something new? Did he get something on you? How can –"

"Jade, please, I'm sorry. Give me a second to explain!" he pleaded, lowering his voice as he entered a smaller room, a door shut quietly in the background.

I could see him, hunched over the speaker, covering the phone with his hand, as if that would mute my volume or his.

"Explain what you second-rate, barrel-scraping, gutter rat?" I all but screamed.

That was when Reece tapped something on his keyboard and swept out of sight. My door was shut, but my office was not sound proof.

Martin sighed heavily.

"I'll take that as your anger talking, Jade, and I'll express my gratitude that you're using words and not taking my firm apart instead," he stated patiently.

He paused.

I waited.

"Please, Jayden. Believe me. I know everything. Remember? I was there, before, and after, remember? Please, you know me. Think about it. Even you didn't know, right? come on. For old time's sake, let me speak. Can I?" he asked carefully, slowly. I could feel the heaviness behind his tone.

I wasn't a bad-tempered person. I wasn't a hot head. But I was pissed. Beyond what my public mask could carry.

Martin, however, knew me better than anyone else, except maybe my sister, Rina.

I inhaled deeply. "Talk. Fast."

"He's Sir Sinclair's son from a different marriage. He has used his mother's name his whole life, and the old man never made him change it. He wasn't even really in the family's life, not directly. He was provided for, but that was it. Until he graduated law school with honors, and his other three brothers died or vanished."

He paused.

I did as well.

He didn't say what I knew he was thinking. What we were both thinking. Leon was not just a bastard; he was a special kind of devil. But we didn't go there.

Martin continued.

"He's been abroad for years. Came back to the States a little over a year ago. This business with the construction is his father's dream, been on for a long time. That's why the selection process was as detailed and extensive as it was."

"I mean, who does multiple selections and insists on interviews with the applicants before even running a first draft review, only to do it all again at every stage?"

"It's a lot of money," I remarked evenly, finally feeling my shoulders relax. "The level of security features to go into that place is the kind that got builders and their families executed in the olden days, once the task was done," I concluded matter-of-factly.

I could see my friend nodding on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, I can see that happening, but this is the modern age, there are better ways to vet people. Faster ways," he commented swiftly, keeping our conversation moving forward.

"Sinclair is old school. I got all that from talking with him. I'm sure we only got past some of the checkpoints because our company is one of the oldest in the city," I replied offhandedly.

"He never took any interest in his father's project. But he walked in today. I almost had a heart attack. I swear. I don't think he even recognized me. He was a senior by the time we got in so...he probably wouldn't," Martin stated calmly.

"And we didn't hang around that much after I... Yeah...he might not know you at all," I commented quietly, my voice drifting away.

Martin paused. "So...am I forgiven, friend?"

I aspirated. "Listen, friend, the only way I will ever forgive you is if you forgive me for being an asshole just now."

"Deal."

"You sure?"

"Of course. I'm just glad Rina hasn't –"

"Martin..." I cut in.

"Oh, yeah, fuck, I almost forgot," he remarked, laughing nervously.

I smiled lightly on my end. I said it for him in my mind – We don't talk about Rina.

Martin cleared his throat. "What's the plan? You gonna work with the kid?"

I saw the boy's face. Adrian Sinclair. Both versions. The one from this morning and the one from last night. I sighed.

"Do we have a choice?"

"Put someone else on it," Martin remarked.

"You know I can't do that. My father would have an aneurysm!" I fake-complained.

"Then let him do it," Martin pressed lightly.

I paused. Thinking for a moment. My father was an excellent architect, but he had also stepped back from active work, to spend time with my mother.

He had given his input on my designs for the project, at every stage, but it was mostly to agree, not really to make any changes.

"If you tell him who it is..." my friend's voice drifted off.

I shook my head.

"No," I replied slowly. "He's given me the reigns. This is my job. If I run away from every fuck I've had, I should just close up shop," I declared with a levity I did not feel.

Martin laughed.

I knew he would.

I was exaggerating; I hadn't fucked that many people, but what it really was, was that I didn't fuck those types of people, and Martin knew it.

I fully relaxed now, sinking into my chair.

"Read that contract again, Marty. Please, cover my family," I stated quietly when my friend's laughter subsided.

The weight between us was palpable.

"Of course," he replied, his voice thick. "See you this weekend?" he added carefully.

"See you this weekend," I replied firmly.

We hung up.

I stared at the wall. I checked the clock.

2:31 p.m.

Definitely, Father Time is fucking with me... I mused as my dick pushed against my pants. I closed my eyes, forcing it to stay down. To wait for nighttime.