Prepare yourself, Mr. Gabriel Ferrara. I’m taking you down.
I gasp for breath as I watch Jameson lap me in Central Park. It’s six o’clock, and the sun is just rising. He’s running particularly fast today . . . and I’m letting him.
I get it now; his responsibility is not something he can just switch off at the end of the day. I feel it for him too now. Last night, however infuriating it was, taught me a valuable lesson on his competitors.
They have no morals and no fear, and that makes them very dangerous players indeed.
Jameson turns and sprints back to me. He’s always careful he keeps me in his sight.
He was quiet when we came home last night, deep in thought. We had a shower and made love, and then he finally relaxed a little. I made us a snack, and we lay on the couch in each other
