Stella

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

MEGAN ANDERSON

When I first saw James Burns, I felt pity for him. They thought him to be an arrogant and spoiled man who was used to getting everything he wanted. But I could see through that façade. The hint of dark circles underneath his eye bags and there was no laughter crinkles on his skin. He had it all - money, fame, and power. Yet there was no light in his dark and sad life. From my perspective, he did not have it all - he merely had a large business to stress himself on, a gold digger for a wife, and six children to take care of. 

I could tell that his children also lived a sad life - with their father working all of the time and their mother who consider gold necklaces and expensive clothes her babies instead her actual children.

At twenty-five years old, I still lived with my mother in a nice small apartment in LA, California due to my struggles with money and I worked as a psychologist. It was a well-paid job but yet it wasn't enough to go on my own. I was at the place where I was stuck in a spot - unsure of and questioning everything that led me there.

I hated my life back then. My boring life was an endless cycle - wake up, eat, work, sleep, and repeat. You see, I always was the one who needed something to keep me on my feet all of the time. My mother may be old but she was still in good health so she didn't need me. Instead, I needed her, and I despised it. I wanted something to take care of and to love.

Then came along James Burns, the man who gave me my everything.

I saw him in the bar and I was rather shocked. I've seen him on TV before. He was a successful businessman and one of the richest men in the world. I wondered what the hell he was doing in a run-down bar in the cheap spot in LA.

After five seconds of studying him, I spotted the hint of tiredness all over his physique frame and I finally felt the pity. I was quick to realize he came in here to blend in and get wasted. To get away from life for a while as I was trying to, too.

I quickly averted my eyes before he could notice me staring but it was unnecessary because once I did, he stared at my back. Since I was a teenager, men found my body to be beautiful with my curvy backside, slender neck and shoulder blades, and petite beasts. Sometimes I loved the attention I received but the middle age I was, I didn't have time for casual hookups or even dating anymore. I was a responsible adult most of the time.

James sat down next to me casually and ordered himself a drink. I pretended to pay him no attention and kept sipping my strong drink.

"Hello, beautiful." His voice was husky and there was obvious dominance beneath the tone. I admit his voice was drawing me in but his word choices weren't.

I didn't reply but instead nodded once and took a sip of my shot of whiskey.

From the corner of my eyes, I could see his brows rising. "You're not supposed to sip from that shot. You're supposed to swing it all at once."

I turned to him by then. "And who are you to tell me what I should do?"

I, of course, knew his name but I was curious about what he would say. He replied with a fake name, one I somehow didn't remember. I never called him by that name.

We spoke for hours in that bar before he'd invited me to his hotel room where he was staying that night. I accepted his offer. I was drunk and unhappy with my life. I wanted something to spice up my grey-covered world and it seemed a good idea to sleep with one of the richest men alive in my drunk, muddled mind. He was equally drunk.

The following morning, I woke up alone and naked on that luxury hotel bed. His things had somehow quietly cleared out and I was abandoned. But I had expected it. I didn't care, although he should have been more polite. It was nothing but a one-night stand coming from a drunken mistake and I knew he was an asshole when it came to sharing a bed with women.