Addiction

I was hunted by my father’s enemy because I looked just like him.

When he finally caught me, the man had a cigarette dangling from his lips, his expensive leather shoe grinding into my chest.

“Little master, where’s your father? Tell me, and you can beat it.”

I shot back arrogantly, “And if I don’t?”

Later, as he pulled away from the bed, he dismissed me with a cold expression. “A son pays his father’s debts. You can go now.”

I picked up my clothes from the floor and got lost, just like I was told.

When we met again, I was on the dance floor, being egged on by the crowd to kiss a male model.

Dressed in a sharp suit, the man crushed his cigarette and shoved me into his car, ignoring my protests.

“Some debts aren’t settled after paying just once.”

I lowered my eyes, fighting to suppress the smirk tugging at my lips.

You bastard. Once you’ve had a taste of certain addictions, a lifetime probably won’t be enough.