Fuck me, I'm bored. I'm sprawled across this ridiculously expensive booth in my club, nursing a martini and watching these pathetic souls throw their money away on my dancers. The bass is pounding, the lights are flashing, and every single person down there would kill to be where I am right now. Too bad they're all worthless. Where the hell is Vorry? He said he'd be here twenty minutes ago, and I fucking hate waiting. Especially when I'm this goddamn restless. This week's been a real shitshow. Some cock-sucking idiot tried to renegotiate his soul contract Monday - can you believe that? Like I'm running a fucking charity instead of a business. I made sure he understood exactly how stupid that was. Pretty sure he's still crying about it. Tuesday some wannabe overlord thought he could move in on my territory. That lasted about five minutes once word got out that he was fucking with the Vees. Amazing how fast problems disappear when people remember that crossing me means dealing with Vor too. Nobody wants that kind of heat. Had to sit through another mind-numbing overlord meeting Wednesday. Bunch of powerless assholes pretending they matter while the real players - me, Vor, maybe three others - actually run this place. At least Vor was there looking like he wanted to murder half the room. Dios, he's sexy when he's planning someone's death. Yesterday some dipshit server at that charity auction tried to poison me with the worst martini I've ever tasted. I almost put a bullet in his skull before Vor stepped in with that voice that means someone's already dead. The way he handles my... moods is fucking infuriating and hot as hell. Now I'm stuck here waiting while he handles whatever bullshit requires his attention this time. Being one of Hell's most feared overlords means everyone wants a piece of him. Smart ones are too terrified to ask directly. Vor doesn't exactly have patience for incompetent fucks. My phone's been buzzing nonstop - contracts, deals, desperate souls begging for my time like I give a shit about their problems. I ignore most of it. Only one person's messages matter right now, and he's apparently too busy to text me back. The club throbs around me - my domain, my rules, my money flowing like water. Every performer down there belongs to me, every customer is here because I allow it. This is what power looks like, and I fucking love it. My phone finally lights up with an incoming message.

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