All Chapters of In Bed With The MC President: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

ReaperI emerged from the basement into the main hallway, the heavy steel door clanging shut behind me, sealing the screams and the smell of fear below. The air up here felt different It was stale with cigarette smoke and spilled beer, vibrating with the bass of a song I didn't recognize. The party was still raging. People were laughing, glasses clinking, and there was this kind of background noise from people totally oblivious to the rot at the baseIt made my skin crawl.I walked straight to the bar. Ink saw me coming.He saw the look in my eyes… the dead look that usually preceded a funeral. He paused his drink pouring halfway through. I didn't have to shout. I just cut a hand through and Ink nodded. He ducked under the bar and silenced the tunes. The quiet that came after was really startling. The giggles faded away in waves as everyone looked over to the bar. Confusion washed over the faces of the prospects and the sweethearts. “Party is over.” I announced, my voice carrying

Caleb’s POVThe numbers swam before my eyes on the monitor: $400 million.That was the estimated worth of my company. That was the initial stock price. That was my ticket out, the way to pay off the massive debt I had saddled Sterling Industries with.I was sitting in my office, the glittering Manhattan skyline on the other side of the glass seeming to laugh at my situation.It was 3:15 in the morning. I took a sip of scotch that was no longer cold, and scrolled through the digital version of the S-1 filing – the document you file with the government before offering stock for sale to the public.My eyes landed on the section titled Leadership and Governance. There was a picture of me looking straight into the camera. I was smiling, attempting to seem confident, trustworthy – a big name in the business world. Beside it was a paragraph about Family Values. Caleb Sterling, a devoted boyfriend, proposed his long term girlfriend, Mila.” I snapped the laptop shut.“Devoted boyfriend,” I mutt

Mila Caleb just stared, his mouth opened and shut like a fish gasping for air. The buzzing lights above us made the silence feel even heavier. “Right?” He finally managed, his voice cracking. He looked all over my face, like he was searching for some kind of trick. “What… what does that even mean, Mila?” I moved closer, stepping right into his space until my shoes were practically touching his fancy Italian ones. I could smell his fear – a sharp, sour smell under all that cologne. “It means things are changing, Caleb.” I said, keeping my voice low. “You said it yourself, didn't you? You have desires. Well, so do I. We are modern people here, right? The IPO is coming up. You need the sad, grieving fiancee to show up and stand by your side, smiling for the cameras. You need the stock price to stay up.” I reached out and ran a finger down his tie. He shivered. He was used to being the center of attention; he wasn't used to me taking control. “I can do it.” I told him, making my v

MilaFrom the gate, it took me exactly thirty seconds to walk to the house. I knew this because I used to count those seconds, a trick to calm myself from panic attacks.One. Two. Three. Each second was a tiny anchor.Caleb stood beside me. He seemed to be a little nervous even though he tried to appear calm as he walked toward the door. He had the look of a man who had brought a tiger into his apartment and was now desperately trying to tell himself it was just a regular house cat.I took a deep breath as he pushed the key and the door hissed open.The scent slammed into me first. Sandalwood, lemon polish… the maid was working overtime and that sterile, metallic tang of recycled air. The smell of my gilded cage. My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat. For just a second, I wanted to spin around, pound the button for the lobby and run back to the comforting smell of whiskey and motor oil and the sounds of the open road. But I stepped into the marble foyer anyway.“Welcome hom

ReaperThe screen flashed with a text.Mila: Fuck you.Me: You wish.I leaned back, resting the phone on my chest. I should stop. I should maintain professional distance. But the memory of her taste was still on my tongue, and the anger at her leaving was still a fresh wound.Me: Tell me what you’re wearing.Mila: Why? Want to imagine ripping it off?Me: I don't need to imagine. I know exactly what you look like when you break. I know the sound you make when you beg.The response was immediate this time.Mila: I hate you.Me: Liar. You’re wet right now just reading this. You’re touching yourself and wishing my hand was on your throat instead of your own.I watched the screen. No reply. One minute. Two minutes.I knew I had her. I knew she was reading those words over and over, her breath hitching, her body betraying her hatred just like mine was betraying my logic.Me: Do it. Touch yourself. And think about me killing him while you come.The phone buzzed one last time.Mila: You’re a