Page 34 of Scrooge

“No. The city provides for the homeless, the hospitals provide for the sick. The education system is there to provide for the kids,” he says, and my eyebrows rise.

“So you really don’t donate anything?” I confirm, frowning, not liking this side of him at all. A slither of disappointment fills my veins.

“No,” he states, looking out the windows at the city below. “It’s not my responsibility to fund those types of things. I am not even sure how soccer got through, to be honest.” His shoulders tighten, obviously not happy about it. I am surprised, and I look around his place again. Although it is amazing, it is lifeless. There is nothing here. That thought makes me sad. Like he is alive, but not really living. And that’s reflected in other areas of his life too.

“Do you take vacations? Go away a lot?” I ask, thinking he must spend most of his time elsewhere. From everything I know about him, he is a billionaire. If he is cutting budgets, increasing leases, not donating to charity, then he must spend his money elsewhere.

“Not often.” He shakes his head, jaw tight. He isn’t angry that I am talking about this, more like he is unhappy with himself.

“Huh…” I mutter, looking around again, trying to get a read on him. I’m confused, and understanding washes over me that I don’t know this man like I thought I was starting to.

“Do you have any other family or close friends nearby?” I know his father died, but maybe a long-lost uncle or something.

“No. I was an only child,” is all he says, and sympathy pulses in my chest.

“You know, I did some research on you yesterday…” I start tentatively, not sure if he will find my research palatable. He looks at me with a raised eyebrow, and I raise mine back in challenge.

“You researched me; it is only fair.” I shrug, and he nods.

“Go on,” he prompts, and I bring myself back to the present, taking a breath.

“Well, it seems that you have a nickname around town…” I tell him, and I see him roll his eyes.

“I know,” he says on a heavy sigh.

“Scrooge… I mean, I can see how that may—”

“I’m turning in. Spare room is down the hall. There are three of them, take your pick.” He turns on his heel and strides away, his shoes clicking on the marble floor.

I was trying to be delicate, but that was obviously the wrong thing to bring up. I sigh as I watch him go, hating that I offended him. He seems lonely, not overly welcoming or warm. A bit like this apartment. Large, lots of space, all the mod cons, yet cold, distant, and uninviting.

Opening my tote bag, I rummage around until my hand hits on what I am looking for. A small, glittery pumpkin that I tossed in my bag the other day when I was cleaning up the store window. I thought it would be nice at home for my nephew, but then I forgot about it. I look at it, the glitter already falling off and onto his clean floor. I should feel bad, but I don’t, so I place the pumpkin on the coffee table and dust my hands off over the sofa and floor rug, smiling.

I might as well add a bit of sparkle wherever I go.

* * *

After finishingmy whiskey in front of the New York skyline, snapping a photo, and sending it to Jillian, I wander down the hall and select the first room I come across. I look at the perfectly made bed and fall onto it, exhausted, yet I’m not comfortable whatsoever. After all those mozzarella sticks and a glass of gasoline, I’m bloated and my jeans are digging into my waist.

Jumping off the bed, I walk to the closet and flick on the lights. The space is amazing, with room for hanging, shelves for displaying, shoe racks and drawers, but it is all completely empty. I pull out each drawer and find them all entirely clean. Not a spare t-shirt in sight. Taking a deep breath, I look around before walking to the bedside tables and pulling out those drawers. Again, they are completely empty. Not even a bible, a pen, or anything that you’d think these drawers might contain. He probably has something for me to wear somewhere in this apartment. But after I upset him, he obviously forgot about giving it to me.

I saunter into the adjacent bathroom, my hands skimming the bed linen as I walk past, feeling the softness. At least he doesn’t skimp on linens, and I see a small trail of glitter left behind from my fingers. In the bathroom, I switch on the light, and the room sparkles. I don’t think it has ever been used. There is a large tub that I am very tempted to slide into, and the windows are low enough to look out at the skyline. The shower is open and frameless, which is a luxury I’ve never experienced. Once more, I open the drawers, and to nobody’s surprise, there are no amenities. I know it isn’t a hotel, but there is no soap, no creams, no toothpaste or spare toothbrush. No tissues. The whole room is like a new build that no one has moved into yet. I would prefer to brush my teeth before bed, but I also don’t want to ask him now.

Rubbing my head with the palm of my hand, I groan. I know that I won't be able to sleep unless I wear something more comfortable, so I decide to bite the bullet and walk down to his room and ask. I mean, I am not expecting him to say yes, but who knows? He might throw something my way.

I open the door and pad down the hallway, wondering what his room looks like. Is it warmer, cozier, more welcome and inviting? As I peer into the other rooms as I pass them, I’m surprised by how big this place is. I spot an office, which is huge, and a small gym, which is surprising, a large bathroom, which I assume is for day guests, but again, completely empty and sparkling clean. There’s one door left down the hall that I assume must be his. His door is ajar, so I tap lightly.

“Hello,” I say quietly, not sure if he is already asleep or not. But as I peer in, his lights are on.

“Hello? Alex?” I say a bit louder as I push the door open a bit farther. I look around quickly, taking in his space. The curtains are drawn, the closet full of suits that all look the same. He has an armchair and a few other bells and whistles that aren’t in any of the other rooms, but it is still reasonably sparse.

“Alex?” I say again, taking a few more tentative steps in. His bed is vacant, and he isn’t in his closet. But then I still. The bathroom door is wide-open, and I have an unimpeded view. My eyes widen, and I am rooted to the spot as I watch Alex, entirely naked, water gushing down his body. I swallow, heart in my throat.

His body looks hard. Perfectly sculpted. Like he has never eaten a piece of chocolate in his life. My hand moves to my stomach, feeling the familiar soft folds that spill over the waistband of my jeans. His head is back, his eyes closed with the water streaming onto his hair. I should walk away, but I can’t. It is like I am transfixed. His mouth opens slightly, and I hear a moan before my eyes flick lower, and I almost stumble. His hand is on his dick, moving up and down as he palms himself. He is big, hard, thick, and I am barely breathing as I watch this physically perfect man in the middle of self-pleasure.

“Fuuuckkk…” I hear him groan, so needy that I feel my pussy pulse.

“Oh my God…” I whisper, my body heating up almost instantaneously. I look up at his face again. He bites his lower lip as his other hand slaps on to the tiles of the shower wall like he needs the stability. His hand jerks harder, faster, and my pussy starts to pulse in time with his strokes. I move my legs, needing some friction from my jeans, yet that does very little to help. I think I might come just from watching him. I didn’t know this was something I would like. I haven’t liked it before, but then again, I have never watched a man in secret like this. I have never even seen a man like this, who is tall, dark, handsome, someone who looks like he literally stepped out of a movie screen and into my life.

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