|Kian|

"WHEN WAS the last time you fucked, Kian?"

That absurd question made me pause in signing the document before me. I dropped my pen and pinned Ryan to a droll stare. His sloping form was against my closed office door, his right ankle crossed over the other. I hadn't even been aware of him coming in.

Wondering what the scumbag was up to now, I spoke up, "What did you just say?"

He hoisted himself upright and swaggered across the distance separating us to sit in the chair opposite me. "You heard me man but I'll say it in other words, just in case you forgot the meaning of fuck. So how about when last did you get laid, bang someone, roll in the hay, get it on, tup a woman, consummate, copulate---"

I cut him off, holding out a palm, "Shut the fuck up Ryan, I get the general idea and stop asking, it's none of your fucking business."

How did he even know that much synonyms for fucking?

An annoying smirk on his stupid face, Ryan relaxed further in the chair, raising his crossed legs and placing those grimy shoes on my desk. When he noticed my dark glower, he lifted his legs away. Good.

"It's my business. I mean you've been as grumpy as a bear ever since you divor---"

"Don't finish that sentence." I gritted my teeth hard. I didn't want to hear any single word pertaining to my done and dusted marriage or my bitchy ex-wife.

Ryan raised both of his hands in surrender, his countenance one of feigned innocence. "Chill man, no need to go all ape shit crazy on me. What I'm trying to say is that you've been holed up in this office for months, working non-stop and growling at us, your workers like you've got a hot pole stuck up your tight ass."

The only reason Ryan was not fired at the moment was because he was family and right now, with the contemptuous curl of his lips, he knew it too.

He stood, straightening his tie and plucking imaginary lint off his white shirt that manned wide shoulders. A curl of black hair managed to stray past the nape of his neck---even when I clearly stated that all employees were to have formal, smart haircuts. The women's in a bun and the men's in a combover. But not Ryan. Never Ryan. He insisted on a bro flow, which meant his hair was left shaggy and uncontrolled. Said the style made him look cool and polished. But in my opinion, it made him look lousy and dumb as fuck.

I reclined in my swiveling chair, resting my arms on its armrests, cocking a nonchalant eyebrow and surveying the tall man in front of me through half-lidded eyes. We were of the same build, except for his hair.

Unconcerned, I added, "And so? What does that have to do with fucking?"

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Men who haven't had sex in a long while, tend to be very frustrated and you've been showing all the signs."

I raked him a forlorn glance, my jaw ticking. In a cool voice, I said, "My sex life shouldn't be of any concern to you, dear cousin. Now be a good boy and go fetch me Beth. I've been calling her line for sometime now, but she's not picking."

He bristled for a moment at the phrase good boy then a satisfied gleam shone in his deep blue eyes---eyes that were eerily the same as mine. "Beth is gone."

My brows knitted together, bewilderment forming a deep vee between them. "Beth, my personal assistant is gone? Why on Earth would she do that? And without informing me?!" My confusion withered away, annoyance settling in.

He stuck his left hand into his tailored brown trouser's pocket. "Yes, Kian. Beth, your hardworking and efficient PA is gone. Ka-put! She complained that she was tired of working for your grumpy ass and I quote her in her own words, 'If I'm to stay with this insufferable, bad-tempered man one more day, I'll go crazy!' Apart from asking you why you're so miserable, she was also one of the reasons I came here. To tell you that she quit."

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He brought out a stamped envelope from that same pocket he'd stuck his hand into, slapping it loudly on my desk. "There's her resignation letter. So what are you going to do Kian?! Beth's the tenth PA you've had this month and if you keep on throwing tantrums, no other pa will step his or her foot in here."

Outwardly, I maintained my aloof façade, schooling my facial expression to be one of detachment while inwards I cussed Beth to hell and back. How dare that red-headed, four-eyed chit leave me? Hadn't my four figure pay been enough?!

Ryan came closer, his stretched out palms in contact with the empty section of the glossy desk that divided us. A whiff of his spicy cologne wafted to my nostrils, a slight teasing smell. His stare became level with mine, a smidge of concern shimmering within their cerulean depths.

"What exactly is wrong with you Kian? You're overworking yourself, stressing your body and basically being a great pain in the ass of your workers. Sure, you used to be annoying but right now, over the months, it's becoming worse. As your cousin and closest thing to a friend, I'll advise you to chill out. Pull yourself out of all this." He threw his hands up, gesturing at my state-of-the-art workplace--- the installed shelves that carried the books, emblem and laurels of my business empire, the sweet-scented pot plants in gilded ornamental vases, the lounging gray sofas for waiting officials--- then returned to fixing that same worried gaze at me.

"Have fun. Fuck. Get drunk. I don't know, but just stop being so overbearing and cranky!"

Ignoring his concerned look, I bit out through clenched teeth, "Don't sweat it, Ryan. I have no need to listen to your rants. And while you find your way out, take these documents along with you and give them to the copiers. Also be sure to find me a new personal assistant within the space of one day or you'll be doing the job of two persons."

My vice closed his eyes briefly, frustrated at his inability to get a positive response from me. Opening his eyes, he shot me an irritated glare and swept the previous documents I'd signed off my desk, almost knocking down my macbook in the process. Then he whirled around, ambling for his getaway.

"Wait." My tone was taunting, mocking.

He froze.

"It seems you've been lagging behind if you spared your precious time to advise me. Advice I didn't ask for. Use that time effectively and get your scrawny ass to work now, chief operation officer. We've got loads of things to do."

A bored voice met my ears. "In case you don't know, we humans have a home to go to whenever it's six in the evening."

He slammed the door on his way out.

Six?! A little stunned, I tossed a quick glance at my watch and sure enough the time was six. Buried under paperwork enough to weigh a thousand ton, I'd lost track of time, the overhead fluorescent bulbs creating the illusion that it was still daytime.

I twisted my neck muscles, cricks---from sitting down for hours--- smoothing out, giving me some form of relief. Shutting down my mac, I rolled up my sleeves and stood, slowly walking to the huge glass window positioned a few feet away from my desk.

Located on the twentieth floor of the glass and steel sky rise building, my office had a major advantage; the breathtaking view of Chicago.

The sun had set, and if not for the murky fog blanketing the sky, there would have been thousands of stars glittering in that inky darkness. Looking down, I made out the illuminated buildings and cars far below, a faint honking sound reaching my ears.

My form was reflected in the thick glass, a dark silhouette. Assuming it had been a mirror, I would have been gazing upon dark circles under bleary eyes lacking sleep, mussed blonde hair and a thick beard, a week's old. Frankly speaking, I was a mess. A glorified mess.

Stepping away from the window, I groaned, running my hand through the strands of my hair, messing it up more. Ryan had been right.

After my divorce, I'd been a dick, taking it out on my employees, barking out gruff and incessant orders, working non-stop. Most of my personal assistants had fled, unaccustomed to the horror that was me. And in a way, I mused, unsure that Ryan would find another personal assistant as efficient as Beth. Word must have probably gotten out that Kian Fields, CEO of Fields Enterprises was a big bastard and working for him was signing your death contract. Not that I cared.

I tapped my fingers on my suit trousers, rankled. Ryan had also been wrong. I didn't need to fuck to get me back in order. Neither did I need to be in the company of any woman. After all, courtesy of my toxic marriage and previous affairs, most women were a distasteful lot and the thought of finding peace in them was extremely unappealing.

I just needed to groom myself properly, luxuriating and indulging in life's various pleasures, and for me such ecstasy was provided by only one place.

The casino.

A small smirk playing by the corner of my lips, I retraced my path back to my desk, hung my black sleek suit on my left shoulder and stalked out of my office.

It was time to roll the dice.

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