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14

The headache that I got the next morning wasn't worth drinking half of the minibar.

The loud ringing of my alarm just adds to it.

I slam the "stop" button on my phone, missing the first few times, which gets me more irritated by the second.

I roll over onto my back, throwing my arm over my eyes.

I have to be at an event in two hours, but can't seem to drag myself out of this fucking bed.

With a groan, I push myself up. I sit at the edge of the bed for a few more moments before finally getting up.

Stepping into the bathroom, I switch the light on. With half-opened eyes, I turn on the faucet and splash some water onto my face. After quickly washing my face, I grab a towel and dry my face with it.

For a second my gaze trails down my frame in the mirror, stopping at a particular tattoo on my left hip.

It's probably the biggest tattoo I've got. Most of them aren't big. I have a lot. Definitely over fifty. I've lost count a long time ago. I've got my first tattoo at 16, at a place where if you paid enough, you wouldn't even a parent's permission.

My eyes linger on the tattoo one more second, before averting my gaze. I didn't want to remember anything. Today is one of the few days, that I wasn't woken by the demons of the past. I doubt I slept through the whole night peacefully, but the amount of stuff I stuffed my system with last night, won't allow me to have the memory.

I pull down my boxer briefs and get into a quick shower.

I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist, and use another one to dry my hair.

Stepping out of my room, I walk over to the kitchen, that's connected to the living room. Venus is sitting next to the island, sipping on her coffee. She doesn't look up as I enter the room. Her eyes are focused on what's inside her cup.

When I was first told about getting a "girlfriend", I flipped. I didn't want a girlfriend if it was a fake one. I had to give up my lifestyle. Of course, I could still get a few fucks here and there, but it did make things harder and created more paperwork than usual. Most of the women I fucked had to sign an NDA. Now, even an NDA wasn't as helpful, because if they didn't agree to sign, they could go around spreading rumors about me being unfaithful—which isn't true, because, technically, I'm single, even if they don't know it.

Her looks only made it worse. I was stuck with someone who look exactly like her.

Though, I admit, I feel bad for what I've done a few nights back. I felt awful the moment I did it. I hate that I lost control like that. For a second, I saw her and it drove me mad.

I remember snapping at her last night, but she just wouldn't stop acting like a brat, acting like she knew what I'd been through. She doesn't know even a fraction of what I've experienced.