Jacob Sims drove through the dimly lit streets of the city, his mind a whirlwind of anger, frustration, and confusion. The image of Sharon with Bruce Hill haunted him, replaying in his mind like a taunt. The unknown text messages didn’t help; they only added fuel to the fire of his suspicions.
He had tried focusing on work, burying himself in documents and strategies, but it was no use. The weight of it all was suffocating. Tonight, he needed an escape,a place where the world’s pressures couldn’t reach him, and the bitter memories of Sharon were drowned out by something else.
As he pulled up to the discreet entrance of an upscale establishment on the city’s west side, he hesitated for a moment. The building was unmarked, but Jacob knew its reputation well. It was a place where men of pow
