Chapter 3

I hadno desire to work. Sitting at my desk was more out of habit than need. I could have skipped showing entirely, and the company would have run itself. When I arrived, Geoff had already laid out every article and social media posting about the charity gala. For the guests, it had gone off without a hitch. We netted two million dollars in proceeds. Respectable.

My phone vibrated once, then again. I welcomed the incessant texting from the guys.

D: Why did I wake up to photos of you flexing?

C: Is that studio lighting?

D: He probably has a team of selfie experts.

C: Why no dick pics?

D: Don't encourage him.

C: We promise not to make fun of it.

D: I make no such promise.

C: This is why you're the mean one.

I admit, I had felt more myself than I had in months. They didn't make any comment about the jewel in my chest radiating a green aura. I debated on telling them I had been powerless since leaving Cold Iron but thought better of it. I had become the version of Vex they thought I was the entire time. Apparently, in my power-drunken state, I sent half a dozen photos of myself.

"I look rather fetching, if I say so myself."

V: Dick pics? What am I? A horny teenager?

C: Maybe?

V: I'll show you in person.

C: Tease.

I had returned to the office but lacked the focus to read expense reports. Clint and Diesel entertained while I avoided work. I stared at my hand, flexing my fingers. I had withstood the impact of bullets and snapped a man in half, but it appeared that not all my powers had returned. Superhuman strength and durability were nice, but they wouldn't be enough if I wanted to confront Sentinel.

Patience was a virtue I lacked.

I pressed the intercom on my desk. "Geoff, have you finished?"

"Jonathan," he growled.

"Geoff, watch your tone." At this point, it was amusing to push his buttons.

"Sending to your computer."

While I wanted to spend the day trying to access my former abilities, there was another curiosity tugging at my attention. In a room filled with millionaires, it was the one common man that left me intrigued. I needed to know the identity of somebody willing to crash a party and speak to me as if my fortune meant nothing. The more I thought about it, the more curious it became. Sure, he crashed, but how did he get around the security detail? I needed to unravel the mystery.

With a couple clicks, I opened my email. I expected financial reports, security camera footage, and maybe an elementary school diploma. When I opened the email, I saw a drawing of a stick figure with an arrow pointing to Won-Ho Jung. Beneath the poorly drawn man was a message from Geoff.

"Stalker, much? - J-O-N-A-T-H-A-N."

"Touché," I mumbled.

It didn't stop the image of the man from nipping at my concentration. Doc would comment on my obsessive behavior. I never denied the trait. It served me well in the business world. I wouldn't be satisfied until I had the man crying out my name and begging me to use him for my pleasure.

The double doors burst open.

"Mr. Vex," Geoff shouted, "You have a visitor."

He abused my good graces. I caught him smiling from behind his desk in my waiting room. Geoff moved up my list of victims, confirming his spot behind the postman, who never used the correct mailbox.

"Damien." Carmen LaToya strode toward my desk. Yesterday, she had worn a tailored three-piece suit. Today, she opted for a jumper with the zipper low enough to give men the wrong idea. As she walked, she accentuated her hips as if the catwalk might disarm and provide her an advantage.

"Carmen. Lovely as always."

"Don't fuck with me, Damien."

We skipped the pleasantries and moved straight to the part where she threatened me. Would it be death or the promise of returning to Cold Iron? With the skintight leather, she couldn't hide a conventional weapon. I spotted the bangles on each wrist. To any other onlooker, they'd be harmless pieces of jewelry. I would bet at least one of them contained nanites like the man from last night.

"Where is it?"

The composed woman from yesterday had vanished, replaced by an aggressive clone. She leaned forward, palms resting on my desk. She didn't hide the snarl. There wasn't something humanizing about this version. I found it a relief and nowhere near as worrisome as the woman I couldn't read. LaToya laid all her cards on the table, a risky move for people of our caliber.

"There were complications."

"Diesel killed the man he was supposed to apprehend. Clint does the same. Don't tell me you made the same mistake."

"Perhaps our penchant for murder says more about the company you wish to apprehend than it does us."

"Damien, I'm not here to play games."

"Your target had the remaining vile of Malignant's serum. He got greedy. I dispatched him."

"And the vial?"

I stood, loosening the tie around my neck. She watched like a hawk as I unfastened the top button. When I opened the second, her eyes widened. The jewel glowed, speaking volumes.

"What did you do?"

I closed my eyes, reveling in the renewed sense of strength. The sensation was indescribable, but something had changed. I imagined the green light flowing through my veins, lacing my muscles with its energy. Whatever had been in the vial had awakened the powers I thought Sentinel stole.

"I reestablished the status quo."

"That was the last?—"

I leaned forward, dangerously close to her face, as I reached for the letter opener. Carmen jumped back, holding two pistols that hadn't been there a moment earlier.

"Carmen, seeing you anxious is new."

"I never underestimate an opponent."

"We're hardly adversaries."

Anger. Her emotions rising to the surface were a breath of fresh air. Despite the turbulent storm on her face, she held no fear. I found her a fascinating creature. I'd process that later. For now, I wanted to make good on our arrangement.

I placed my hand over a stack of papers. A quick thrust, and the letter opener struggled to break the skin. Leaning into it, the metal tip sank into my hand. It hurt, but the pain remained distant, as if it had happened in a dream. When the tip broke through the other side of my hand, I jerked it free.

"I am a man of my word."

The blood dripped onto the stack of papers. A second later, the wound stitched itself together. I marveled at the lack of a scar. Carmen's body hadn't relaxed, even as I studied the dented knife. Her guns remained pointed at my head. If the knife didn't deter her, it meant the ammunition in her guns was something more than mere bullets.

"A deal is a deal." I offered the stack of papers. "I assume your lab techs can reverse engineer my blood."

Her eyes narrowed. "Not how I expected this meeting to go."

"Would you prefer I threaten your life?"

"You could try."

With a flick of the wrist, the guns dissolved, the tiny specks returning to her jewelry. She reached out, taking the stack of papers.

I didn't let go. "What are you planning, Carmen?"

She tugged at the papers, pulling them free. "I am ensuring humanity has a chance against titans."

For a woman who commanded the might of the Centurions, it came off as odd. Carmen could mobilize one of the most powerful teams with a text message. Despite the assets at her disposal, she wanted access to a serum that granted powers? Did she really want to give it to every person in Vanguard?

"You're creating an army?"

"No," she said. "But I'm making sure that it's not only idiots struck by lightning or adventurers finding an enchanted rock that wields the power."

"You're not giving it to the people. It's for you."

"Nobody knows the dangers of heroes more than me. I want an ace in the hole should any of them decide to go rogue."

Carmen had declared herself judge, jury, and executioner. It was none of my business how she wanted to use her heroes. But something about her new attitude made her more of a loose cannon than I had experienced before. I didn't care as long as she upheld her end of the deal.

"Our business is finished," I said. "No more threats. No missions. This is our last meeting."

She gave a salute as she walked away with the bloodied papers. "It's our last business meeting, Damien. But I doubt we've seen the last of one another. Stay off my radar, or next time, it won't be this civil."

"Ominous." I looked forward to our next encounter.

* * *

The rest of the day turned to tedium. The company had purchased a foreign competitor. Our stocks boomed. The research and development team promised new marvels at the start of next week. I should have been elated that my company continued to soar. But all I could think about was the gem nestled in the middle of my chest. Whenever I got up to stretch, I closed my eyes and searched for the darkness hidden within. So far, its potential eluded me.

When that obsession turned to frustration, my attention drifted back to the man in front of the paintings. I found his lack of concern about my name both infuriating and refreshing. I needed to know if it stemmed from confidence or ignorance. But either road my mind chose, it ended with the thought of him pinned to the bed as I ravished him. His effect wouldn't matter once I bred him.

"Oh? Did you say Won-Ho? It's a pleasure to meet you."

Geoff's voice squawked through the intercom. My back straightened as I realized the jerk had intentionally flipped on the intercom to taunt. I wanted to smack him, but the underhanded manipulation deserved respect. Why had the burly man returned? Did he want to continue our conversation from the night before? If I hadn't been a bloody mess, I would have suggested he get naked in my bed.

I jumped to my feet, inspecting my suit before dashing across the office. At the door, I paused. I did a quick rundown, smoothing my beard, then checking my tie, and finally buttoning my jacket. Reaching for the door, I froze. Had I just primped myself for this mysterious man? I wanted to laugh at myself as I threw the doors wide.

"Oh, look, he's not busy." Geoff batted his eyes in my direction. "I guess that big something is all done now." He didn't even attempt to hide the lie. My assistant took a disturbing amount of pleasure in throwing me under the bus. Yes, he'd either die or rise to the top.

"Mr. Jung, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Polite or eager? I tried to maintain a neutral tone. By Geoff's rolling eyes, I failed miserably.

He wore a t-shirt and jeans, an outfit much more in line with what I'd expect from him. I had suspected there was muscle in that girth, and now that I could see the sleeves stretched around his biceps, I had my confirmation. He outweighed me, and as of yesterday, maybe he could overpower me. But now, I'd easily hold him in whatever position I preferred.

"I came to make arrangements for the delivery."

I raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Delivery?"

"Our friend, Mr. Jung, won the Chancey painting." Geoff emphasized Chancey, making it clear Won-Ho had purchased the most desirable painting in the bunch. Looking at him, I wouldn't think his pockets deep enough to afford it. My curiosity only grew.

"You could have called to make arrangements."

"I could have." He held out his hand. "But I like to handle my affairs personally."

Geoff let out a gasp. I ignored his infatuation with my personal life. I shook Won-Ho's hand. Even with the gem's power, I could feel the strength in his grip. He lingered, squeezing more than necessary, as if he wanted to test my strength. I had to shift to hide the erection in my pants. There was one place in particular I'd like to experience the strength in those hands.

"I hoped we could continue our conversation from last night." He leaned against the desk as if we were old friends catching up. He truly didn't care that he stood in front of one of the richest men in Vanguard. My status didn't faze him, not in the least. "But I couldn't find you. The rest of the night was rather boring. Your friends are pretty damned dull."

I laughed. "Dull, yes. Friends, no."

"Like he has friends," Geoff muttered. He best be glad I didn't have access to my powers, or I'd have chucked him out the window.

"Geoff…" I emphasized both f's. "Make sure Mr. Jung's painting arrives safely."

He growled an acknowledgment.

"I was heading out for the night. Let me see you to the door."

I flashed Geoff a stern look. He waved me off as if I didn't matter. I gestured toward the door, resting my hand on Won-Ho's lower back. I only stole a quick glance at how his back arched inward before curving to a round ass. It'd be uncivilized to make an advance in the office. It wasn't as if he was some starry-eyed intern.

"Won-Ho?—"

"Won."

"Won, pardon my being forward?—"

He caught me off guard with a slight chuckle. "I suspect you're used to being plenty forward."

Again, he called me out. His determination to block any sugarcoating made me reassess the man. Instead of speaking with a silver tongue, perhaps the easiest way to communicate was directness. It'd be a welcome change from the boardroom.

"You didn't have to come. Why are you really here?"

"Is the all-powerful Damien Vex suspicious?"

"Suspicious has such a negative connotation. How about inquisitive?"

"I needed to see about the painting..." He flashed me a grin. He had gotten under my skin. The mystery why was almost as alluring as the man himself. "And our conversation last night was cut short."

"You came to speak with me?"

"You sound surprised?"

We reached the elevator, and I pressed the button. People coming to my office wanted something. It ranged from favors to input on matters of business, but rarely did anybody stop by for the sake of casual conversation. I couldn't recall the last time I exchanged pleasantries for the sake of small talk.

"Let's say I'm not used to handsome men stopping by to shoot the breeze."

He broke eye contact, looking at his feet. Won-Ho wasn't used to a man giving him compliments. When his cheeks turned red, I debated about pressing further to see how deep the blush would go.

"I'm sure you're plenty comfortable in the company of men."

"Did you just call me a slut?"

The door to the elevator opened, and I slid inside. He gave a slight shrug as he followed. "The tabloids have quite the opinion of you. There's a new article every day and always a different man in the photo."

There was no point in denying it. I had a reputation as a playboy and did little to hide the fact. The tabloids were ruthless, and if that was what they latched onto, it was better than them digging deeper into my personal life. If I clipped every mention of my name, I could have wallpapered the corporate office.

"Okay, so I'm a little slutty."

"He admits it!"

The door to the elevator shut, and I pressed the button to the lobby. We were trapped together for the next two minutes. The thought of slamming the emergency button and pinning him to the wall crossed my mind. It'd be a quick and torrid sex act. No, if he got naked, I wanted to take my time with him. Unlike the usual cum and go, I wanted to see him quiver as I used him.

"I appreciate the company of men." Appreciate might be a bit of a stretch, but I didn't want to scare Won-Ho away by saying they served a purpose. "When a good-looking man catches my eye, why not chase him?"

"So, what they say is true?"

He wanted an admission of guilt or a rebuttal. I had to mull it over before speaking. The tabloids liked painting me as Vanguard's most notorious crook. When it started, I spent my time refuting their claims, but after a certain point, I found it easier to lean into the persona. If they wanted a villain, I'd make sure there were stories to keep them afloat for decades.

"I wouldn't believe everything you read."

"Oh, I don't." He stood close enough that I could have easily reached out, resting my hand on that curve of the back. "I'd suggest taking your own advice." He gave me a wink. "The man in those articles isn't the one prying open the pockets of the rich to fund a community center downtown. Or purifying the city's drinking water. Should I mention the green initiative?"

It was my turn to blush. Won-Ho had done his homework. Those projects never made the front page of the tabloids. They would rather vilify than consider any of the good Vex Industries did for the city. I had long since stopped caring about public perception. It also didn't help that I had once kidnapped their most coveted heroes.

"Not used to a compliment?"

"Why are you really here?"

"Playful banter?"

"If only I believed you."

"I want to make sure the man overseeing the Boys and Girls Club isn't as horrific as the world believes him."

It was the second time he had mentioned the club. Last night, he dodged my security to make sure the event was more than a gathering of socialites. I had built it to provide the kids somewhere to go other than the streets of Southland. Most were wards of the state with nobody watching out for?—

"You know one of the kids?"

He nodded. "I want to make sure he's not getting mixed up in the more unsavory parts of your empire."

Won-Ho had researched my philanthropic efforts. I commended him for doing his due diligence. At the same time, he didn't shy away from the fact Vex Industries had questionable scruples. Rarely did I find somebody accepted the good with the bad. These days, it was about extremism.

"Let me assure you, it's exactly what you'd expect." I doubted he'd take my word on it. "Many of us fell through the cracks of the foster care system. I wish there had been more opportunities than hoping I'd find parents to take care of me."

Won-Ho rested a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you for sharing."

I never spoke about my youth. I avoided thinking about the lanky teenage boy who struggled to fit in. By sixteen, I had moved to a dozen foster homes until I landed with the Wallaces. They were an older couple. Not bad compared to the others, but they never quite fulfilled the parental void. No kid should have to question their worth. If I could provide a bit of hope for the next generation, it was the least I could do.

Won-Ho pulled me closer, giving me a hug. The suddenness of the gesture caught me by surprise. Wrapped in his arms, he gave me a few reassuring pats between the shoulders. He lingered. I think he lingered. I could have counted the seconds, but I was caught up in this large man embracing me in a hug tight enough to squeeze my ribcage. I caught the reflection in the elevator doors, and it was like he wrapped himself around me. I never felt small.

"Sorry," he muttered. He quickly let go as the door opened. He scurried from the elevator. When I followed, he stayed out of arm's reach, as if confirming he had overreacted.

With the bustle of the lobby, we lost the intimate closeness of the elevator. I considered making an excuse for a ride back to my office, but he had grown jittery. I was starting to think Won-Ho Jung might be unfamiliar with intimacy between men. It only made the thought of him choking on my cock more enticing.

"Perhaps our paths will cross again." I didn't dare ask him to my place. I had perfected the art of seducing straight men. If I came on too strong now, he'd run away. It was always best to let them believe themselves in control.

"I'm sure they will." He forced a smile, but avoided eye contact. With a slight bow, he walked into a crowd of employees leaving for the day.

"Won-Ho," I whispered his name. "This isn't the last you'll see of me." I let out a slight chuckle. "Okay, that sounded creepy even to me."

And yet, I couldn't get past the sensation of him squeezing my chest.