Chapter 2

Jamey

I hate Mondays, I hate work, I hate people, I hate noise, in short, I hate everything except money, power, and respect, maybe a good smoke once in a while, but that was very rare. I'm woken up by an annoying sound coming from somewhere below me. "What in the world… is too early for this shit?" I mutter, slowly getting out of bed. I clench my jaw as I try to find the source of my annoyance. I scan through my third floor…Nothing, my second floor… Nothing, my first floor nothing. As I'm waiting for the elevator to open on the ground floor, my hands are already visibly shaking, my jaw clenched tighter, and I can hear the blood rushing to my head. DING... the doors open. Like prey that knows it's about to be pounced on, I see my idiotic best friend take to his heels when he's eye lock with mine.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE, OMAR! IT'S 5 AM!!!!" I yell at the top of my voice

"Calm down, buddy, I was just hungry and came to make a protein shake with your blender, it's not my fault, it sounds like it's a volcano about to erupt," he said with a stupid smirk on his face.

"So with all the money I pay you, you can't afford a blender?"

"Hey, don't say it like I'm broke... I just prefer your blender, it's stronger and... It also serves as an alarm to wake you up.2 for 1" a stupid laugh leaves his mouth. And in that moment, I weighed the pros and cons of our friendship. Is he really that important to me? Is he even that helpful at work? Would his family even miss him when I throw him out of the room window of my 4-story building? For a second, I'm genuinely contemplating whether I should or shouldn't end him right there.

"I hate you," I say, rolling my eyes and walking to my elevator.

"No, you don't, and go get ready for work. I have a feeling today is going to be a good day," I hear him say from behind me.

It takes me about two hours to get ready, but I mean, can you blame me? All this handsomeness doesn't happen on its own. I was a very consistent person. I liked what I liked and disliked what I disliked. I worked out every day, no excuses, because my body was one of my most prized possessions; it had to look perfect at all times. I had only a few tattoos, but my largest piece was on my back. I would definitely get more. I only use high-quality skin care, the very expensive type. All my suits are tailor-made, my casual wear and footwear were designed by designers, and my watches were all customized because when you have the money, you have to show you are better than everyone else. And I definitely was.

I have heard that I may behave like a self-centered, rich, Snobby egomaniac, but I really don't see it. I'm just better, smarter, more attractive, and definitely wealthier than everyone around me. It wasn't my fault they couldn't live up to my standards; it was theirs. I give a nod at myself in the mirror, satisfied with my outfit, a simple black suit with gold cufflinks to go with. I get my phone and head to the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. I step outside in front of my BMW just as the cool November breeze hits my face, and I can tell that I was already going to hate today.

"Dude, you should have come to the party on Friday, it was too good, the ladies there were so hot and sexy, I couldn't even choose. I took 3 home with me. BEST NIGHT EVER!" The sound of Omar's voice is irritating me. I clench hard to the stirring wheel, my knuckles getting whiter than they already are.

"Dude, are you even listening to me? You should really try and have more fun before you sell yourself into a life of misery marrying that witch," he cuts in again.

For a moment, I forgot how horrible my life was—from the outside, everything seemed okay. My company was going great, I was engaged to the heiress of a billion-dollar empire, and all was right in the world. Right?....Wrong!! Everything was far from okay. My company was on the brink of bankruptcy, and no one knew aside from me, my father, Omar, and my accountant. This was all my father's fault; he had made some very stupid investment which put us in this position, and made matters worse, it was my responsibility to solve it.

He came to me about a month ago with a plan. A plan I had to go with, even against my will. I was to marry Debby Goodman of the Goodman Ltd fortune. They needed a husband for their witch of a daughter, and we needed the money. Everyone won except me.

I have never been in love, and I don't think I ever will be. To my father, he was doing me a favor. An arranged marriage. Disgusting. But my loyalty was to my family and my company.

"I hate Mondays, I hate work, I hate people, I hate noise, I hate parties, and I have never found a woman attractive enough to sleep with." The last part was a lie, but no one needed to know. I take my hygiene very seriously, which involves sexual hygiene as well. Which was very hard to do with the type of sexual appetite I had. I had only ever slept with one woman, and that was the worst day of my life. So I would rather wait and starve for the perfect time to devour.

"Damn, dude, you're more annoyed than usual. What's up with you?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's because it's Monday or maybe because I hate to go to work where I'm surrounded by people or maybe, just maybe it's because my asshole of a friend woke me up at the crack of dawn with a blender from hell… so which do you think?" I spit out.

"In my defense, it was your blender, not mine, but cheer up, today is going to be a good day, I can feel it," he says with a huge grin on his face.

"You say that every day," I turn, looking at him.

"Na… today is definitely going to be different". A long, slow sigh leaves my mouth.

It takes about 15minutes to get to my building, mostly because I drove over the speed limit. I park in my designated Parking place that holds my name. Omar was still yapping, so I just rolled my eyes, ignoring him. Just as I'm walking to my Entrance that's meant for only me because well…I held the most power and deserved the most respect. I noticed a Beautiful girl with the sexiest body in front of me. I have never seen a woman so beautiful, but she had to be daft if she thought she could use my entrance.

Without thinking, I grab her arm and push her to the side, maybe a little harder than I wanted, because she falls to the floor. Not only was she beautiful and daft, but she was weak, too weak. The thought makes me amused.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!!!" The daft girl shouts. I had to look around to make sure she was talking to me. I came up with another finding: she also had to be crazy. Crazy to walk into my entrance, crazy to play the victim, and very crazy to raise her voice at me.

Did she know who I was? Definitely not.

"This entrance is for me and me alone, "I say, trying to mask my anger but unable to hide the amusement on my face.

"What kind of maniac has his own entrance for God's sake?" she said, trying to get up.

"Jamey Salvador does, "Omar said, helping her with her bag.

Satisfied with his answer, I walk away, head held high, through my personal entrance to my office located at the very top of my 15-story building. I hate Mondays.