Chapter One
I should be enjoying myself. Courtside at the Lakers game. Most people would kill to have the life I live. But for me, it’s no longer enough. Nothing is.
Empty. Vacant. Cold.
That’s me.
They don’t call me the Ice Man for nothing.
I wasn’t always like this; I used to be fierce, hungry, always striving for the top. And I reached the top. So what if I left countless bloody footprints on the way there? I came from nothing—the son of a Russian single-mother immigrant who died in childbirth. In and out of foster homes, orphanages, and then living on the streets. But I wasn’t about to let that stop me.
I carved a wound-shaped hole out of the world for myself and kept everyone out until I got there. But what I realized when I got to the top of my high tower and looked down on the world was that I was alone.
They say it’s better to be feared than loved, but I’m starting to not believe that.
My men fear me. The other bosses in the city tiptoe around me as they go about their business. Women want me, sure, but only for what I can get them. I got the nickname the Ice Man for being focused and unshakeable, but now that chill has sunk so deep into my core that I doubt I’ll ever be happy.
I lost the only real friend I had two years ago. Kevin. We met in an orphanage when we were eleven. We were separated a year later, but the things we went through in that year were enough to forge a friendship that was stronger than steel.
Once I was in power, I sought him out and brought him in to work for me. Big mistake. He got caught in the crossfire, and I buried him three weeks later. And it was all my fault. I’d made a move on another boss—Big Frank, a trafficker of women, and when he couldn’t get to me, he got to Kevin.
I watch as LeBron scores an easy layup and the crowd goes wild. I don’t even smile. The Lakers are already up by 25 as the half-time buzzer sounds. It’s an easy win. I don’t even know why I’m here other than the fact that it’s become routine and I have to show the other bosses that I’m still in charge.
My eyes move across the various celebrities sitting courtside. Again, most people would be thrilled seeing Spiderman and Batman watching some basketball. But it’s all just routine for me.
My eyes move back to the court as a squad of cheerleaders emerges and takes formation at center-court. The announcer says something about a high school team, and the girls start their routine. High school? Christ, what are they putting in the water these days?
The girls easily look like they could be in college, and their routine sure isn’t something their dads would approve of. Their skirts fly up with their high kicks and their faces sparkle with false excitement. I dunno, maybe they are excited by this and not jaded like me.
I’m about to look away when one of them catches my eye.
Jesus…
Something moves inside of me that I had almost forgotten was there. A warmth starts in my ears and spreads down to my chest. My eyes block out every other girl but her. My heart pounds like a fist. I have to know who she is.
It’s like watching an angel.
Like the other girls, she’s smiling, but there’s something beyond the jovial façade she’s wearing. Something more. Her beauty is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s a mystery to this girl that I’m dying to uncover.
Didn’t the announcer say these girls were in high school? How could that be possible? She’s built like a woman and has my man parts responding in the only way they should. Each kick of her legs exposes the violet spandex beneath her skirt, sending my mind to the dirtiest of places.
The things I would do to her…
It’s almost like the rest of the stadium fades into black and white, leaving only her, moving amidst the sea of other people. There’s something special about this girl. She’s got more than my attention – she has all of me, and she doesn’t even know it yet.
It’s impossible to pull my eyes away from her, so I raise two fingers and in an instant, my number two is at my side.
“Sir.”
“Her,” I say, pointing at my beauty. “Who is she?”
“I’ll find out, sir.”
I watch in awe as she finishes her routine, and as she leaves the court with the rest of the girls, I feel a sudden sense of loss I can’t explain. Just before she vanishes into the back of the stadium, our eyes meet, and my body comes alive.
A swell of desire like I’ve never known hits me like a truck, and I go instantly hard. Christ, I need to have her.
I’m not waiting either. I’m out of my seat in an instant and following her. The security guards know better than to fuck with me. Everyone in this town knows who I am and what I’m capable of. They don’t give me a second glance as I move, and when I round the corner, I see her.
The rest of the girls are already ahead of her; she’s bent over tying her sneaker, giving me a full view of her ass, plump and perky beneath her Lakers skirt. The spandex frames it perfectly, and I groan.
I would bury my face in there and lick every sweet inch.
As she stands, she stretches, causing her back to arch and causing me to picture her bent over on my bed beneath me. I know from her routine that she’s flexible as all hell, which is perfect, considering all the various positions I’m going to put her through.
Her athletic sneakers could go though. All I want her in are heels or nothing—or heels and nothing else. Those athletic legs would look incredible wrapped around my waist while I fuck her silly.
She leans down and takes a sip from the water fountain as I approach, my eyes devouring her every curve, of which she has many. As I grow closer, it’s almost as though I can feel a physical pull between us—like gravity. Impossible to ignore.