Loving The Enemy

By: Jordan Silver


If I believed what was being printed here I would think her nothing more than a scatter brained debutante with nothing between her ears other than the next shopping venture or where to find her next score of blow. None of that represented the woman who’d stood before me these last few weeks. She wasn’t as flighty as these reports made her out to be.

Let it go Jason, it’s none of your fucking business; your dick’s gonna get you in trouble yet. In the past I’ve done the choosing, I always looked down on men who were led by their dicks. I’m too fucking old to join that club at this late date. The uprising in the south was making a mockery of my words. I looked down at my lap in disgust. I can’t believe my dick was betraying me like this.

I looked back at the screen at the last shot of her that I’d brought up. She was on her old man’s yacht the summer before in a few scraps of clothing that showed off her body to perfection. Her skin held a golden hue no doubt from the Greek summer sun, making her eyes shine even brighter as she glammed for the camera.

Shaking my head in resignation I logged off and went in search of a cold beer. I’m not one to run from shit, so I had to deal with the beast now rearing its ugly head. What could I possibly want with this girl? Something tells me that she’s not like the others, that she wouldn’t be so easily shed. Coming from wealth the way she has, she’d have no need of my money to better her standing in the eyes of the world.

But she’s no longer the daughter of… Damn Jason that’s shit thinking, and way beneath you. What the fuck is going on here anyway? The more I shied away from the question of her, the more memories flooded my mind. Her eyes, those eyes that seemed to be looking into my secret places while pleading with me for… something, won’t leave me alone.





4





Jason





I spent yet another restless night tossing and turning with thoughts of her and her damn eyes following me into my dreams. In the morning I was pissed with no one in sight to bear the brunt of my wrath, and no reason for my disposition. I probably haven’t crossed her mind in the last few days and here I am giving more time than I have to spare to thoughts of her.

I wouldn’t entertain the idea of love, I’m too strong of mind to fall prey to that stupid emotion. Seen one too many otherwise smart people lose their minds over some female who snared them in their trap only to wake up one day and realize they’d fucked themselves in the ass when said female showed her true colors.

Then there were the silly women who fell for the wiles of some shyster whose only interest was in their money. Nope, not for me. As a self-made man I had no need of a wealthy partner, and I had enough pussy thrown my way to last me a lifetime. Though there was one thing… no. I don’t give a fuck about such things.

I’d never given much thought to fitting in with certain circles, though I know that even with all my money there were some who still didn’t accept me as one of ‘their’ crowd. Fuck ‘em. Bourgeois names don’t pay the bills and though there was a time when such things mattered, those days were long gone. Then again, as the daughter of the late Timothy Bronson, she might have entrée into some places that were still closed to a man like me; billionaire or not. Fucking snobs.

I’d paid a great deal to keep the fact that Bronson had taken his own life out of the press. So far the only ones who knew were his wife, daughter, myself and the officer who found him. The note had been left at home, so everyone thought it was an accident. That he’d been cleaning his gun when it went off. What the fuck he was doing with the shit in his mouth is beyond me, but hey. Money makes people blind deaf and dumb when it suits them.

Still, where is my head going with this shit? I poured my first cup of coffee and walked to the bank of windows that circled the living room of my five- bedroom penthouse apartment, overlooking the city. Looking down I imagined there were quite a few people down below who still bore some resentment at my seemingly effortless rise to the top. Fuck ‘em.

It wasn’t easy getting here and it had taken a little longer than a man with my skills should’ve done. But the choice of doing shit the easy way or being able to look myself in the mirror every morning wasn’t very hard. I knew the deal before I stepped foot in the ring, knew that there was only one way open for me to play the game and still be able to live with myself.

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