My boring life

James’ POV

I was incredibly bored at home today. The silence in my mansion echoed through the halls, and it felt almost unbearable. I couldn’t believe I had spent the entire night all alone, it was completely out of character for me. Normally, my nights were filled with noise, laughter, music, and most importantly, the presence of beautiful women. My house, a grand and luxurious mansion, often felt too empty without them.

I loved women. No, I was obsessed with them. Their presence completed my space. I thrived on their attention, their company, their admiration. And of course, they loved me in return. I mean, who wouldn’t? I was a successful businessman, wealthy beyond imagination, and I wasn’t shy about spending on the women who pleased me. I showered them with money, gifts, and expensive nights out in exchange for the services they willingly rendered. Life was good, no, life was sweet. When you had money, you didn’t need to struggle. You simply asked, and the world answered.

Most of my women came from the club, that's where I met them. It had become a ritual of sorts. I’d walk in, dressed to impress, and choose who would accompany me home. My house had top-notch security. Armed guards, high-tech systems, everything. Nobody dared to steal from me. People feared me, and I liked it that way. It meant control, power, and peace of mind.

But today, something felt different. The morning had started with a dull, grey sky and heavy rain that poured relentlessly. I hated the rain. It reminded me of painful memories, a past I tried so hard to bury and forget. Whenever it rained, I couldn’t help but recall the heartbreak that once shattered me. The love that slipped through my fingers, leaving scars that no amount of money could heal.

I sat by the window for a while, watching the rain lash against the glass. Outside, I noticed people, mostly lower, class folks, struggling to get to work, drenched in the cold. Most of them didn’t own cars, and seeing them hustle in that weather made me cringe. I couldn’t imagine myself doing that. Walking in the freezing rain to make a living? No way. I would probably collapse halfway. I thanked my stars for the wealth I had. It insulated me from such suffering.

Then, amid the crowd, someone caught my attention.

It was a young woman, struggling to walk through the rain. She held an umbrella, but her body trembled from the cold. Despite the situation, I couldn’t help but notice her attractive figure. She had curves that instantly drew my eye. She seemed gorgeous, even though her face was partially hidden. Something about her was different from the women I usually encountered.

Without thinking too much, I decided to pull over and offer her a ride. She looked surprised but accepted the offer with gratitude. As we drove, she gave me directions to her workplace. I stole glances at her, and with each glance, I saw more of her beauty. Her skin, her eyes, her innocence, it was all intoxicating. Unlike the women I brought home from the club, this one had an air of purity, of realness.

She wasn’t flashy or seductive. In fact, she looked committed, hardworking, and focused. Definitely not someone who had time to flirt around or waste time in clubs. I remember the name she gave me clearly.

“I’m Mia Gilbert,” she had said.

Her name rang in my mind long after she said it. It was beautiful, just like her face, just like her soul. I was fascinated. Curious. I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to see her again. I even imagined spoiling her with money, I could tell she wasn’t well off. Poverty was written all over her. And I knew from experience, women like that never turned down money. They couldn't afford to.

Before she left, I handed her my business card.

“Call me any time,” I told her smoothly. I was confident she would. I mean, who would turn down a rich man like me? I didn’t want anything deep, just a night, maybe two. No strings, no feelings. I had sworn to myself that I’d never fall in love again. The last time I did, I was left shattered. My wealth couldn’t stop that heartbreak. Since then, I decided I would never let emotions get in, the way again. I would treat women like clothes, change them when I felt like it. Give them cash, get what I wanted, and move on. That’s the life I lived now. And it worked perfectly.

After dropping Mia at her workplace, I didn’t return home. Drinking alone in that big, cold house was depressing. I needed a scene, music, lights, women. I needed the club. That was my comfort zone.

As soon as I walked in, the atmosphere lifted my mood. I was surrounded again by beautiful, seductive women. I spotted one almost instantly, a stunning woman who caught my eye. She was sexy, confident, and already looking at me like she knew I was going to approach her.

“Hey, pretty lady,” I said, sliding next to her.

“Hey, handsome,” she purred, touching my chest gently, rolling her eyes in a flirtatious dance, her tongue teasingly slipping out between her lips.

She was irresistible. I didn’t want to waste any time.

“How about you spend the rest of the day with me at my house?” I asked directly, already imagining the warmth and pleasure she would bring.

“Sure,” she replied casually, “but how much will you pay me? Money talks, you know.”

I grinned. “Name the price, and I’ll pay you this instant.”

That’s how things always worked for me. No complications. No games. Just cash and pleasure. Simple, easy, effective. Because in my world, money always talked, and it always got what it wanted.