Page 13 of Forbidden Empire
One
AIDON
My heart pounded a wild beat as I stared at the monitor, transfixed by the flickering image of the woman on the surveillance footage. Esme Theodorus’s presence on the screen was like a live wire, sending jolts of electricity racing through my veins, setting every nerve ablaze.
It was maddening how just the sight of her could unravel me so completely. Since the last encounter we had in person, I’d been locked in a futile battle to extinguish the fiery reaction she ignited within me. Esme had an uncanny knack for drawing out the most primal urges from the depths of my being.
I found myself caught in a tempest of conflicting desires: the longing to lose myself in her until she was insensible and the urge to squeeze the life from her until she hovered at the brink of consciousness.
No one else in the world evoked such intense emotions in me. And no remedy seemed able to quench this unrelenting obsession.
I tried everything. Other women were mere shadows, leaving a hollow ache in their wake. Alcohol, like gasoline, fueled the blaze of my desire for her.
Even the thrill of a high-stakes brawl couldn't match the way my heart raced for her, though it beat with a darkness as black as night.
It was absurd to be so consumed by one woman, to feel as if I were a marionette dangling on the strings of my infatuation for Esme. The realization that she could make me feel like a lovesick fool infuriated me to my very core. After all, I was a kingpin in the glittering city of Las Vegas, a man whose mere name could cause both allies and adversaries to pale in fear or reverence. My enemies feared me as much as they aspired to emulate me.
Whenever I strode through the vibrant, pulsating streets bathed in the glow of neon lights, I was a figure of awe, respected not only for my immense influence and wealth but for the empire I had constructed with my own two hands.
I demanded respect in every area of my life, and as a result, it was given to me by everyone I met. Everyone except Esme, that is. Damn, I couldn't shake the feeling that Esme had never truly respected me. If she did, she had a strange way of showing it.
Sitting in the quiet of my personal office in The Underworld, my mind spun as I fixated on the image of my nemesis and obsession on the screen.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, watching as she slipped into a private elevator at one of the most opulent resorts in the world.
I tapped the button on my laptop to replay the footage, my eyes narrowing in concentration as I scrutinized every frame. The video was grainy, and the angle was distant, obscuring her face more than I’d like.
However, I was sure it was her. There was no doubt in my mind, not even a little. Esme had a unique walk, one that no one else in the world could imitate.
She carried herself with the regal grace of a queen, her long raven hair flowing down her back, catching the light asshe moved. Her emerald eyes, bright and sharp, scanned her surroundings with an alertness that suggested nothing escaped her notice.
But it was the confident sway of her curvy hips that was unmistakably Esme.
As I watched her stride purposefully toward the elevator in the grainy security footage, my cock twitched, a familiar jolt.
This was the last image of her we had recorded, a haunting video loop I examined for any missed clues about her current location. Each replay was pointless, but I still hoped to find something new.
I tried to tell myself I was analyzing the footage for details I might have missed, but deep down, I knew I was fooling myself more than ever. I pretended I didn’t ache for her presence. I convinced myself that the endless, restless nights filled with tossing and turning were unrelated to her absence.
And most of all, I tried to believe I could move on, that life would continue seamlessly even if I never laid eyes on her again.
But the truth was as persistent as the image of her in that video—inescapable and undeniable.
I was obsessed with finding her.
She’d fucking used me, betrayed me, and then disappeared.
Now, here I was, pressing the rewind button once again, at least the hundredth time, as my eyes traced every detail of her image on the screen.
My thoughts drifted back to the last time I saw her, her laughter echoing in my ears, the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips, the lingering taste of her lips.
Damn it all.
I shook my head, trying to snap out of this trance that deceptive woman had me trapped in. Forcing my gaze away from the screen, I let my eyes drift over the dance floor below, where colorful lights flickered and bodies moved to the rhythm. It wasa reminder that I was more than just a man consumed by an impossible woman.
I’d constructed this place from the ground up, every beam and brick set according to my design.
The Underworld Club was a dimly lit sanctuary adorned with plush velvet drapes and crystal chandeliers, where the city’s elite gathered in secret.
