When Matt Kingston isn’t dominating a boardroom, he’s usually found on his private, half-court basketball setup tucked into the wing of his London estate. He never had delusions of joining the NBA, but he worshipped the grit of the game. It was a high-speed, physical escape where the only thing that mattered was the arc of the ball and the snap of the net. He just wanted to be a regular guy for a few days, far away from the constant buzz of his multi-million dollar firm.He sinks a final, perfect three-pointer, the ball swishing through the net with a satisfying snap. Sweat clings to his grey jersey, mapping out the hard, ripped lines of his chest and abs. He heads into the master suite for a shower, but as he passes the marble vanity, his phone starts dancing. "Crazy bitch," he mutters, not even needing to see the ID to know it was that crazy bitch from two nights ago. She’d spent the last twenty four hours blowing up his line, convinced that one night of him rearranging her in
Última atualização : 2026-03-24 Ler mais