What If?

​Tonight, the highest floor in the city belonged to them. ​The penthouse was pitch black, dead silent. The only light was the sickening crimson glow bleeding from the indoor pool, making the water look like a tub of fresh blood. ​And she was right there. ​A wet splash ripped through the silence as she moved. The water clung to her skin like a second layer. She didn't just walk toward him; she hunted him down, wave by wave. When her fingertips finally grazed his thigh, a shock hit him so hard his knees nearly buckled. He was completely f****d. ​She pressed in, her breath hot, damp, and smelling like trouble right against his ear. ​"You really shouldn't be doing this, Glenn," she purred. Her voice was like poison deadly, but he wanted every drop of it. ​"Just shut up and take it," he rasped, his voice sounding like gravel. He didn't want conversation; he wanted her. ​She flipped her hair, showing off the curve of her neck in that hellish red light. She turned, her back pressing hard against him, guiding his shaking hand to her waist, pulling him so tight there wasn’t a damn molecule of air left between them. ​"Hold me," she groaned, her voice thick with need. "Kiss me. Do whatever you want. I’m yours tonight." ​That was the end of his restraint. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin and the thick mist of the pool. When he bit down softly, she let out a ragged, desperate sound that almost broke him. He dragged his lips down her shoulder, slow, torturous, his own pulse thumping in his throat like a warning sign he was ignoring. ​She spun around, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down. Her hazel eyes were blown wide, dark with a hunger that matched his. ​He didn't waste time. He devoured her mouth, his kisses frantic and sloppy with need. She was just as starved, her fingers tangling in his hair, yanking him closer until their lips were bruised and raw. ​The room was suffocating. Sweat beaded at his temples. He was burning up, right on the edge. But just when he was about to lose it, she shoved him back. ​He staggered, gasping, reaching for her like an addict. "No... don't stop. Don't you dare stop." ​She smirked a wicked, teasing look that made his blood boil. She leaned in, her lips ghosting over his, her voice barely a whisper but screaming with intensity. ​"Make me stop, then." ​Glenn’s grip on her waist turned white-knuckled. "Don't play with me," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "You know exactly what you’re doing to me. You’re driving me out of my goddamn mind." ​She laughed a low, throaty sound that vibrated right through him. "And you love it, don't you? Look at you, Glenn. The 'big boss', totally unhinged because I took one step back. Tell me who’s in control." ​"You are," he confessed, the words ripped out of his chest. He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him. "You’ve ruined me. I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I just want you. Now stop talking and let me have you." ​Her eyes went black. "Finally." ​She didn't wait. She surged forward, slamming her mouth onto his with a hunger that was straight-up animal. It wasn't a kiss anymore; it was a collision. Glenn lifted her, anchoring her against him, his mind completely erased. There was no company, no business, no future. Just the brutal, intoxicating slide of her skin against his, and the desperate, messy need to lose himself inside her. ​Then, she suddenly lowered herself, moving down in front of him. Glenn froze, his hand instinctively resting on the crown of her head, his breathing getting tighter and shallower by the second. For some reason, the temperature in the room skyrocketed, leaving his entire body feeling like it was burning up. It wasn't a normal heat. His head started to throb violently— ​"GLENN!!!" ​The scream shattered everything like a rock thrown through a pane of glass. ​Glenn snapped awake with a violent jolt. He was gasping for air, his chest heaving as if he’d just sprinted a marathon. He forced his eyes open, raw and bloodshot from the sudden shock. His heart was still hammering brutally against his ribs, leaving a sharp, throbbing ache that shot straight to his head. ​The crimson pool room was gone. The brunette had vanished into thin air. All that remained was Glenn's spinning head and the lingering, frustratingly real aftertaste of a wet dream. ​"Tch!" Glenn clicked his tongue in sheer annoyance. ​It was his father, Simon Ellsworth. The man had showed up with Luther, the family’s trusted Chief of Security who basically doubled as his right hand. ​Glenn felt a wave of pure disgust. Why the hell did his dad have to show up at the absolute worst possible moment? ​Glenn glanced at his phone sitting on the nightstand. The screen read 9:24 PM. ​If there was one thing Glenn absolutely loathed, it was his father’s habit of forcing his way in. He was positive he’d locked the bedroom door tight, but the old man always found a way to completely shred his privacy. ​"Glenn!" Simon barked, expecting the sheer volume of his voice to make his son jump straight out of bed. ​But Glenn didn't move an inch. He stayed exactly where he was, his bare torso exposed while the heavy duvet covered him from the waist down. ​"Can you, for once, stop acting like a total trainwreck?!" Simon snapped, his voice climbing an octave and echoing off the high bedroom ceiling. "This is the fourth day in a row you’ve done nothing but rot in this bed, surrounded by your damn liquor bottles!" ​Seeing Glenn just lying there like a living corpse, Simon finally snapped. "Glenn Ellsworth! If you are not out of that bed by the count of three, you can go ahead and—" ​"WHAT?! What the f**k is wrong with you?!" Glenn shot back, his voice booming through the room, cutting the man’s threat dead in its tracks. ​"What did you just say?!" ​Simon took a sharp step forward, closing the distance until his imposing shadow completely blocked out the dim light over Glenn. His eyes burned with pure rage. "How long are you going to keep acting like a child? You’re twenty-four years old, Glenn! Is it really that hard to accept the fact that Miranda is gone?!" ​The moment his late mother’s name left the old man’s mouth, Glenn’s jaw clenched so hard the bone structure went rigid. The veins in his neck tightened, pulsing visibly. But he didn't say a word. He just sat there in dead silence, burying his father under a gaze that was ice-cold and razor-sharp. ​It was difficult, bordering on impossible, to ever find common ground with a man this notoriously selfish and work-obsessed. ​"Forget your stupid obsession," Simon continued, his tone turning flat, completely unbothered. "The police and the medical team already made it clear that your mother died in a pure accident. Stop looking for excuses just because you’re not ready to face reality." ​Hearing those words slip so casually from his father's mouth as if his mother’s life meant absolutely nothing Glenn’s last shred of patience snapped. The wave of pure nausea and rage rushing through him made it impossible to stay buried under his pillows for another second. ​With a sharp jerk, Glenn threw the duvet aside and stood up. Bare-chested, every muscle in his torso and abs locked tight with fury, he stood there in nothing but shorts. His footsteps thudded heavily against the floor as he closed the distance, stopping until he was dead in front of Simon. ​Being slightly taller, Glenn tilted his head down, staring straight into the older man's eyes with a gaze that was absolute venom. ​"Maybe you can, but I can't," Glenn hissed. His voice was low, barely a whisper, but every single syllable was laced with a heavy, suffocating hatred that desperately begged to be let loose. ​In that exact moment, Glenn wanted to make one thing crystal clear: Simon might find it incredibly easy to erase Miranda's existence and brush off his wife’s death like it was nothing. But for Glenn? Until the day he died and rotted in the ground, he would never forget his mother. And he would sure as hell never accept a death so clearly wrapped in mystery. ​The air in the room instantly turned to ice. Simon froze for a split second, staring into the raw defiance burning in his son's eyes, before he finally let out a heavy breath, forcing his authoritative composure back into place. The older man turned on his heel, giving Luther a brief nod. ​"I don't care what you do," Simon said, slipping right back into his absolute, commanding tone, completely ignoring Glenn's threat. "You are showing up at the Ellsworth Group headquarters tomorrow morning. I am appointing you as the Head of Internal Audit. Tomorrow, you will start auditing every single report in the finance and operations divisions." ​Simon walked toward the door, stopping just long enough to glance back over his shoulder. "The office has a large wave of new hires coming in tomorrow, including the staff and interns in the Operations department. I don't want you embarrassing the family name by skipping out on your first day. Be there first thing in the morning, and audit every single division. No exceptions." ​Having dropped an ultimatum that left absolutely no room for argument, Simon turned and strode out of the room. Luther followed close behind, pausing just long enough to give Glenn a respectful, silent nod before exiting. ​The heavy bedroom door clicked shut with a soft, dull thud. Slowly, Glenn let go of his clenched fists, his knuckles turning from stark white back to their natural color. He stared blankly at the now-empty doorway, left alone with nothing but the burning, suffocating remnants of his own rage. *****