Chapter 3: I Hate My Life

Henry’s POV.

I watch as Sarah's eyes flicker with recognition. It's been a while, and I’m not sure if she’ll remember me. But she does. 

I smile at her, taking in her features. I didn't recognize her until I paid close attention to her performance.

She's grown up to be such a damn beautiful woman, and I can't help but feel drawn to her. 

Some so many monkeys look at her in hunger as if they want to f*ck her after she goes down from the stage, and I swear I want to blow their heads off at once.

"Guilty as charged," I reply, still smiling. "By the way, let's get out of this place, Sarah."

I take her hand, and we walk outside. However, the air becomes awkward as she remains silent while I continue to hold her hand.

I'm not one to talk much about myself, although I'm proud of what I've accomplished over the years. I bet Sarah would be shocked if she knew that her childhood friend is now the CEO of a famous DC company. 

Though, connections in the Italian mafia for investment activities are such an untold story behind my identity.

I organized a contest to find new talent for my company, and coincidentally, Sarah was the talent that I found. 

Is this a gift from the universe? I don’t know. 

As we walk, I try to make small talk, asking about her life and what she's been up to.

"The song is very interesting."

"I'm into a guy, and so..." she starts to say, but stops walking and looks at me with her beautiful brown eyes. 

Her breasts are round and smooth, with a tight dress revealing her seductive hips. 

I’m dying for her as I notice the mesh stockings and flushed face, accompanied by a sweet, slightly pungent scent of alcohol.

"Got a boyfriend?" I ask, my tone flat.

Heck.

Could anyone steal Sarah from me? 

I feel so uncomfortable imagining this woman in bed with any damn bastards.

It's all my fault for not believing in any woman except my mom in this world. 

I'm too scared to bond myself into a relationship with anyone.

From the bottom of my heart, I'm scared to be like my father, the stupid man who beats my mom so hard. 

Even my little brother and I become punching bags for him when my mom is absent. 

We usually hide in Sarah's house, and that's how I know her. 

I'll erase every memory of myself from her mind and carve my successful image into her memory.

To my relief, she tells me, "Yes, I have."

It's not like I have any intentions of pursuing her anyway, but hearing that she's taken somehow makes it easier for me to suppress my feelings. 

I try to hide my emotions and put on a neutral expression as I ask her if she has a boyfriend.

"Cool," I say, trying to sound genuine. "Did he treat you well?"

My adrenaline spills up in my veins, and I don’t want her to notice that. It sucks anyway. And I stay calm when I walk.

She doesn’t say anything back and keeps walking in silence. As her body moves, I feel mine getting hotter and hotter.

When we reach a park, she suddenly turns to me with a mischievous grin.

"Actually, I don't have a boyfriend," she confesses. "I just said that to see your reaction."

I can't help but let out a laugh out loud. "You really got me there," I say, feeling a fucking weight lifted off my chest. "But, you’re really into that guy right?"

Sarah's face lights up as she talks about the guy she's seeing. I listen intently, pretending to enjoy the way her eyes sparkle as she describes him.

 But actually it sounds like a bastard because he abandoned her after all. 

A twinge of jealousy hit me as I listened to this girl defend her crush’s behavior. 

"He's just so amazing," she gushes. "He's kind, intelligent, funny, and he always knows just what to say to make me feel better."

As we walk through the park, I notice that Sarah seems to be getting tipsy. 

She stumbles a bit and leans into me for support. 

I can smell the alcohol on her breath, and I worry that she's had too much to drink. 

As her breast leaning on my chest makes me feel humble, my blood boils in my veins, and my heart races so hard.

"Are you alright?" I ask, putting my arm around her to steady her.

"No worries," she slurs, giggling a little. "Just a little drunk, that's all."

I'm not so sure, but I don't want to argue with her. I call my personal driver, and my red Lamborghini arrives within minutes.

"Come on, I'll get you home."

"No!" she says, her voice suddenly serious. "I don't want to go back to the prison tonight."

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. 

But then I remember the way she used to comfort me when I was scared as a child, and I know that I can't refuse her. 

I’m thirstier than ever. I want to lean her against the wall and make her moan in juice to help her get rid of her stress.

"Think before you speak," I say, smiling down at her. "You might regret it."

Despite her struggling and beating on my chest, I pick her up and get her into the car. 

She keeps silent and looks at me as if I'm a kidnapper.

"Tell me what's going on," I say gently, trying to get her to open up to me when I sit beside her in the car.

She looks at me, her eyes clouded with sadness. "I hate my life," she says, her voice trembling. "I just want to escape for a little while, you know?"