Jackson leaned in closer, squinting at the photo as if it might reveal some hidden clue. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe Gabriella had bumped into them at some swanky party and... "Admiring me in photos while I'm sleeping? How naughty of you, Jackson." The sultry voice behind him nearly made him jump out of his skin. He spun around to find Gabriella leaning against the doorframe. She wore a silky robe that barely covered her thighs, and her tousled hair framed her face in a way that made her look adorable and irresistible. "I, uh... I didn't want to disturb you," he stammered, his eyes involuntarily dropping to the cleavage visible through the loosely tied robe. She smirked, clearly enjoying his discomfort. She sauntered towards him, her hips swaying hypnotically. The movement caused her breasts to jiggle enticingly beneath the thin fabric, and Jackson found himself mesmerized. "Well, you're disturbing me now," she purred, closing the distance between them. "But I can't sa

Gabriella watched him with predatory interest as he quickly stripped out of his clothes. Each discarded piece revealed more of his toned physique, which had her licking her lips in anticipation. "Look at you," she teased, her hand reaching out to stroke his burgeoning erection. "Like a goddamn Greek statue." His cock twitched in her palm as she wrapped her fingers around him, marveling at the heft and heat of him. "Bet this thing's getting named after Aphrodite," she remarked with a wicked grin. "Just waiting for Aphrodite herself to worship it," he shot back. She laughed, lunging forward to plant a quick, hungry kiss on his lips. Then she turned, sashaying over to the couch with a deliberately exaggerated hips sway. "Come on, Greek god," she called over her shoulder, her voice leaving no room for argument. He followed obediently, equal parts amused and aroused. She nearly pounced on the couch, reaching into the drawer of the end table to retrieve a con

Victor stood on the first tee of his private golf course, squinting against the morning sun. He gripped his driver, the weight familiar in his hands. The fairway stretched out before him, a lush green carpet inviting him to forget the stresses of his criminal empire, if only for a few hours. "Alright, you little white bastard," he muttered to the golf ball, "let's see if you cooperate today." He took a practice swing, his muscles remembering the motion. Victor had always found golf to be a peculiar sport for a man in his line of work. There was something almost comical about a feared crime boss fussing over a tiny white ball. He lined up his shot, took a deep breath, and swung. The satisfying crack of the club meeting the ball echoed across the course. Victor watched the ball soar through the air, arcing gracefully and then veering sharply to the left, disappearing into a cluster of trees. "Son of a," he bit off the curse, reminding himself that this was supposed to be relaxing. H

Victor grabbed a smaller piece off a nearby pedestal - some twisted metal thing that was supposed to represent... well, who knew what - and swung it like a baseball bat. It connected with the guard's head with a dull thunk, and the man crumpled to the floor. The larger guard was back on his feet and looked murderous. He pulled out a knife, its blade glinting in the overhead lights. "Really?" Victor scoffed. "A knife to a... whatever this is fight?" He waggled the metal sculpture. "That hardly seems fair." The guard lunged, slashing wildly. Victor danced back, his movements fluid and practiced. He'd been in enough fights to know that anger made people sloppy. Sure enough, the guard overextended on his next swing. Victor seized the opportunity, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting hard. The knife fell from nerveless fingers. Victor followed up with a swift knee to the solar plexus, driving the air from the guard's lungs. As the man doubled over, gasping, Vict

Jackson reached for his phone again, scrolling through his contacts until he found Gabriella's number. His thumb hovered over it for a moment, hesitation battling curiosity. "Fuck it," he decided, hitting the call button before he could talk himself out of it. The phone rang once, twice. On the third ring, Gabriella's sultry voice purred through the speaker. "Missing me already, handsome?" "You know, most people start with 'hello.'" "Most people are boring," she countered. "But I'm guessing you didn't call just to critique my phone etiquette. What's on your mind?" "Actually, I called to ask you something," he said, trying to keep his tone casual. "You wouldn't happen to know a guy named William, would you?" There was a pause on the other end of the line, just long enough to kick Jackson's heart rate up a notch. "William?" she repeated, her voice suddenly neutral. "That's a pretty common name. You'll have to be more specific." "He's a pub owner. Tall guy, kinda looks like he co