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Billy stood straight as a rod, shoulders squared and chin slightly lifted. He held a glass tumbler of amber brandy in one hand, sipping leisurely as he looked out at the New York skyline from the large picture windows that presented quite a view, casting varying streams of sunlight and shadow over the hardwood flooring of his penthouse. Silhouette outlined with sunlight, an ethereal glow was cast along the planes of his body. He’d already discarded his suit jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his pristine, white button- up, Hermès tie still in a perfect Windsor knot at the base of his neck. 

Narrowing his eyes, Billy peered at a flash of color that caught his eye. Following the slow floating of a hot air balloon far in the distance, he lifted his brandy to his lips, drinking the remainder of what had been left. Fucking Central Park idyllic tourist bullshit. His lip curled in disdain as he continued to stare, only turning away long enough to pour more Courvoisier from his decanter. 

It had been a fuck of a long time since he’d thought about you. You, with your smile that rivaled his, your deep dimples and long, black eyelashes. You, with your laugh that sounded like the music of a wind chime, thick hair that always gave off a slight scent of apple from your shampoo. You, with your never ending legs, your perfect ass, your heels that dug into his back as he rolled his hips into yours; you, who could make him twitch just by moaning his name. 

He knew he had to stop fucking you when he kept having the invasive thought that it wouldn’t be terrible if you stayed overnight. He knew he had to avoid you;  he’d taken you as his plus-one to several high-profile events, and he began to think of you as his date instead of jaw-dropping eye candy on his arm that he’d discard after the gala was over and the sex was done. Billy was having thoughts and urges that he refused to give into. He had to leave you by the wayside because those ideas you’d put into his head without words were dangerous. 

Billy had never shied away from danger; he seeked it, encouraged it. He craved danger, it was the only element in his life that he needed. Danger was always there, never a disappointment. It was an integral part of his work, and it wasn’t left at Anvil. When he came home, on the rare instances when he was off-duty, danger followed. It was like a second shadow Billy carried with him. 

Danger… Billy lived  it. But the danger you brought along with you wasn’t the version Billy had ever encountered. He’d never allowed himself to get involved in love. It was an obstacle that would do nothing but get in his way. He was a very busy, very rich workaholic. Love would get in the way of his work, his reputation, the lifestyle he’d built for himself and enjoyed. Love would push aside the prospect of other women moaning his name while gripping his sheets. 

Even if Billy entertained the idea of love— which he didn’t— he absolutely knew that he didn’t have the capacity. He was emotionally unavailable, and as charming as he was, he was aware of the emptiness in his eyes, every day, during his morning routine, looking in the mirror as he deftly tied a flawless Windsor knot just before smoothing gel into his hair. He had no reaction to the vacancy there; it was the very antithesis of the wild, inky black, almost maniacal hatred that consumed his eyes during and after completing a task that had to be done. A self-satisfied look a grandiosity followed, but the impassibility eventually returned. 

He was born unloved by a father he never knew and a mother— only in a strict, biological sense, nothing more— who loved meth more than she ever thought about loving her son. Billy had never felt love and was incapable of giving something he’d never had. 

Billy inhaled deeply through his nose. He rolled his neck side-to-side, shrugged each shoulder in an attempt to reset himself. He exhaled slowly but felt his jaw flex, his nostrils flare in irritation and disgust. The ice in his tumbler was melting into the brandy, diluting it’s kick. After one more long sip, he turned and walked away from the window, the view, that fucking hot air balloon carrying nothing but delusion.