The billionaire's sweet editor
Chapter 15: Lucas: Dismantled life

Chapter 15: Lucas: Dismantled life

"THE LIST is out now, sir," Tim calls out, maneuvering his way around the messy kitchen thanks to the muffins he has been baking. He’s a messy cook. Though he’s good at cleaning after himself—and me, obviously.

Iris has been long gone by now. She kept on rambling about how she couldn’t relax after the encounter we just had with my dad, and when I offered to drive her home, she said it might be too suspicious since she’d never brought a boy home before. So we ended up opting for Paul driving her home.

Long story short, she has a new fan now. I don’t know what the two talked about on their way back to her place, but Paul wouldn’t shut up about Iris after picking me up from the gym. The only thing I know is that it has something to do with books because the first question he asked me was if Iris really edited a romance book that made it to the best sellers list.

I agreed with him and for the first time in a while, I got to see a huge grin on his face. Paul rarely smiles, unless he’s reading novels that is. It’s funny how such a big ex-military guy who looks like he eats dragons for breakfast prefers reading cozy romance novels over alpha male books.

What’s even funnier is how Tim—a slim feminine-looking guy who dresses like royalty and keeps his surroundings squeaky clean—is the one who reads the alpha male books instead.

Guess the idiom don’t judge a book by its cover was meant for guys like them.

Downing a sip of my protein shake, I accept the iPad from Tim’s hands and sit on the couch. I’m sweaty and tired after just coming from the gym, but seeing the monthly issue of the bestsellers list fills me with enough adrenaline to wake up my dead muscles.

My chest is vibrating from the strains my heartbeat is putting on it, my belly rumbling from fear of the unknown. Did we make it to number one?

Unlocking the device, I take a look at the number one spot and I’m not shocked to see that Bonnies Magazine took the spot—again. However, the shock sets in when I check out Adder’s regular spot, to see it taken by a magazine whose name I don’t even know.

Scrolling down, my heart rate spikes when number three pops up. Thankfully, Adder magazine is resting there, but all the blood in my veins drains and my cells die twice as fast. I should have expected it when I got the message about sales dropping, but it still hurts to see all my hard work crumble before me—and right when Dad decided to become a difficult pain in my ass at that.

Not only do I have a depressing two freaking months to make it to number one, but now I need to miraculously jump two spots up the chart if I’m going to reach my goal before Dad’s I’ll-shut-my-lips deadline ends. Fuck.

I punch into the couch, letting all my rage burn into the leather. It’s the rattling sound of a tray being placed on the coffee table before me that makes me stop as Tim passes me the plate full of food in it.

Raising my hand to stop him, I tear myself away from the couch. "Don’t worry about it, I ate on my way back here."

He looks like he wants to argue, but I guess he saw the chart too. Both he and Paul know exactly how I feel about the bestsellers list; I’ve made it clear to them ever since being placed in their care, and lucky for me, they have been the secondary support I didn’t know I needed aside from my dad during my pursuit for greatness.

They’re always constantly looking for ways to help the magazine make it to number one. One time, Tim even proposed that he’d do spy work for me at Bonnie’s so that he could give us feedback about their secret recipe to greatness.

Thank god I took it as a joke because he looked dead serious when he suggested it. Guess the alpha male books are giving him delusional confidence.

"I’ll place it in the fridge for later then," he mumbles, scooping the chair off the table and walking back to the kitchen, a distraught expression resting on his face.

Walking upstairs to my room never felt so suffocating before—even after doing leg day at the gym—but today, it feels like a fucking task. I manage to do it though, and in no time I reach my room, flopping my sticky body on my bed.

The sweet scent of roses immediately poofs from the duvet and fills my surroundings when I bounce on the mattress, providing an uncalled-for distraction that fills my mind with dirty images of last night’s wild rampage with Iris.

We hadn’t planned for it to happen, but it did anyway, and I fucking loved it—no kidding. Iris and I share such good bed chem, id want to do it again with her anytime—but I’m in no position to ask her that since we’re nothing more than a fake couple.

Add Dad seeing us naked on my bed and her wanting to abstain from me to the fucking mess, I don’t think I’ll be getting a feel of her anytime soon. Shit, why am I thinking about her when I should be researching the magazine right now?

Flipping myself around, I feel the hard bulge on my gym shorts that grew a while ago and I let out a frustrated groan, making my way to the shower. Filling the bathtub with cold water and bubble bath soap, I begin rubbing my forehead, racking my brain for any possible solutions to the dilemmas I’m facing right now.

Another heavy frustrated sigh that resounds in my bathroom escapes from my mouth. What am I going to do in two months to make it to number one on the bestsellers chart—something that I couldn’t accomplish all these years even though I pushed myself to the limits?

And what if Iris really abstains for an eternity and I never get to touch her again?

Ruffling my hair and removing my gym wear, I step into the half-filled tub, feeling the coldness seep into my skin as it erupts goosebumps all around my body—a stark contrast to how my life is right now—a cold mess of shit.

How can everything that was gearing its way around my life perfectly a while ago just become rusty and shitty in a few seconds?

Taking the shower head and pointing it above my head, I let the water cascade down my body, rubbing every nook and corner of my muscle and six-pack until I reach the base of my waist.

Images of Iris opening her legs for me flood my mind and in mere seconds, I’m touching the base of my hard dick. It pulsates in my hand, throbbing for more action as I rub it in my palm.

My hand is not enough, I need more. But the more that I’m yearning for isn’t mine, and she just told me we’re going to stay away from each other for a while. I don’t know how long a while is, and it’s messing with my head, which is funny because I don’t remember being this invested in Iris before.

Pumping faster until my elbow feels like a rusty joint, I feel myself coming closer. It’s stimulating, but not as much as Iris. My brain provides a three-dimensional image of her lying naked on my bed, with me between her legs as she moans my name. I let myself bask in the image of delight, feeling myself coming closer with each passing second as my pumping increases pace.

"Fuck," I groan, coming loose as my dick finally spills all the cum in the water-filled tub. Slouching on the cold slanted end of the tub, I let out one icy laugh as the reflection of my actions set in.

"It’s been one day, Lucas. One fucking day of sleeping with Iris and you’ve turned into the horn-dog she accused you of being."

Never mind the shamelessness after being seen by my father, I have urgent matters aside from Iris damnit.

Crawling towards the other end, I unplug the stopper, watching as my money’s worth of bubble bath flushes down the drain along with the water I just dirtied.

It’s the stress, I tell myself. That’s why I couldn’t control myself just now.

But even as I’m agreeing with my subconscious, deep down I know we’re both wrong—making me sigh to myself for the millionth time today. What the hell am I turning into? A madman who constantly talks to himself to seek validation for his actions?

Fuck this life. I’m already losing every battle before they’ve even begun.

★★★★★