You know that feeling of when it seems that everything's gone downhill but it still feels good? How everything's all messed up but it's all working to your benefit? How when you're in a room full of strange people, some slapping you and some rubbing, some groping you that you enjoy it but still deep inside you feel all alone? And lastly, do you know that hurting feeling of how when you decide to ignore that other feeling?
Alex Rider did.
But he always locked it away. And when it came back he would do the inevitable.
House party. Free get-ins for the club. Bachelor party when no one's getting married.
Yeah, he'd changed a lot over the last nine years.
Alex wasn't that young fourteen-year-old boy anymore who had been back-stabbed by multiple people, worked undercover in dangerous missions most older MI6, CIA, or even KGB agent would agree to, faced death countless times by practically knocking on its door, lost their whole family to the government and its quarrels of revenge and justice and lastly found the perfect person he never thought could exist and lost her in the blink of an eye. The slip of a hand.
He didn't act like that young boy either.
Over the past few years he and Jack--his housekeeper and practical sister that had come from America to study law and ended up working and staying at Ian Rider's house--had stayed in his late uncle's house and as they went by they had discovered something totally unexpected.
Apparently when Ian had signed up to work in the "Royal & General Bank" they had certain things he'd had to do before being able to work there. One of those things was a will, just in case something ever happened to him they'd know immediately who to give the property to--Go Figure was the first thing in Alex's head when they lawyer had contacted him and Jack on his eighteenth birthday.
Alex remembered it clearly as he sat in the back seat of a sleek 2016 black Mercedes-Benz. The city lights glaring and skidding across the tinted windows like flashes of neon streaks. The motor purred with a soothing vibe that sounded like a lull, the tires practically glided across the newly paved___________ in London, England. He sat comfortably in the black leather seats as his chauffer Eric Thomas drove for him.
"Onto the house, Mr. Rider?" Eric asked as the middle glass panel between him and the blonde-rich-deep-eyed twenty-three-year-old slid down and let them catch a quick glance in the rearview mirror.
Alex gave a small grin, that looked as dangerous as it did sexy. It was one of the first things that drove the women wild for him. That and the amount of money he had in the bank.
"Of course, Eric." he told him, pressing the button near the window and making the panel slide back up effortlessly.
"What exactly did he tell you?" eighteen-year-old Alex asked, slowing down his strides so that Jack could keep up.
"Who, the lawyer?" she asked, pulling her red hair up quickly in a hair tie and smoothing out the wrinkles in the only skirt she owned, trying to hide the fact that she had only slipped on the skirt, a white shirt and some without really paying attention to it.
Alex nodded.
"Well," she said, dusting off her sleeves, "he said that apparently your uncle left a will--"
"You told me that part."
"Well don't interrupt and I might tell you the rest." Jack rolled her big green eyes and Alex smiled.
"He said that there was some stuff on the will that we might--"
"There're usually things on wills."
Jack took her small purse and swung at Alex, hitting him in the stomach.
"And we might want to review what they were."
"But if he left a will why would they just now tell us? It's been almost five years since Uncle Ian died."
"I know. I asked him that and he said all would be explained once we got there."
Alex turned the corner and began walking backwards on the sidewalk, not bothering to look behind because Jack immediately started telling him where to walk.
"A little bit to the left." she said.
He moved and a woman passed him.
"Is that all he told you?" he asked.
"Besides the usual 'Hello, is this Miss Starbright?' bit--left--" Alex moved, "yeah that's pretty much it."
"Where's the lawyer going to meet us at?"
"Well," Jack rearranged her long silver necklace that had two black wings and a white mask in the middle of them inside her shirt, "I wasn't sure if it was really a lawyer, you know? You can never be sure when it comes to matters concerning you, you know?"
Alex kept walking but the smile on his face faded. He knew exactly what she meant.
Jack inevitably noticed the change in his features and bit her lip for a moment. Then cleared her throat and said, "Anyways. I asked him where he wanted to meet at and to our luck--right--he did not say the Royal & General bank."
"So he's not with Special Operations?"
"Nope." Jack made a popping sound with her lips as she finished the word.
"Then it's not a fraud."
"I hope not." Jack stuck a mint in her mouth, "It better not be. Because first of all I gave them a very clear warning about trying to meet back up with you."
"Jack that wasn't a warning."
"Left."
"That was a threat if anyone ever heard it."
"Well, it worked anyway. They haven't tried to talk to us since you…" she bit the inside of her cheek. Alex could tell she was thinking of a way to put it that wouldn't hurt him, she always bit her cheek when she thought, "…since you got back from that last mission--which was forever ago." she chuckled.
Alex couldn't help but smile.
Since I got back from that death…
Alex shook his head and tried to get the thought out of his head.
"Actually, Jack, it was only four years ago."
"Dang, let's be technical! Forever, four years--difference?"
"A big difference."
She looked at him dumbly, " 'There's a big difference'." she mocked, "Whatever. Right."
Alex moved to the right and began to laugh. He loved to tease Jack. It was so funny to see her get aggravated when--thwap! Alex ran into the large light pole behind him that he hadn't seen.
Jack was laughing and already running down the street, yelling, "Other right!"
"Jack!" Alex rubbed his head and ran after her.
He could see her laughing so hard she could barely run. He caught up to her quickly because of his 6' stature. He grabbed her by the waist and swung her around.
"No, Alex, stop!" she laughed harder.
Within twenty minutes they were at the lawyer's office, walking into the quiet building and looking for office number 108 which belonged to the lawyer Edward Shapt.
"Are you sure we're not late?" Alex asked, swinging his shaggy out of his eyes to look at the numbers and names that labeled each wooden door in black or white letters on silver plates.
"He just said as soon as possible, but to come in today. Even if it was late tonight." Jack explained to him, swinging her arms as they walked. Jack hated lawyers with a passion!
"Really?"
"Yep, but I don't like dealing with lawyers." she gave a mock shudder, "give me the heebie-jeebies. So I thought we'd get this over with now and go celebrate your birthday with Tom!" the last four words were said with a sing-song voice and jump in the air.
"Joy." Alex said, swinging his hair again.
Jack rolled her eyes and grunted, "Alex, would you please cut your hair!" her question was more of a demand.
He had let it grow out recently to where it almost covered his eyes and was already at the middle of his neck, it shaded his features deeply. He liked it that way. It made it more difficult for people to look at him.
"You look like some hippie-wannabe from the seventies." Jack told him, a grin on her face.
"Thank you?" he said with a laugh. For some reason it hurt to laugh. It had for the past four years.
"You're welcome--this is it!" she knocked at the door lightly and from the inside there was a deep calm voice that said:
"Come in."
Jack opened the door and saw Mr. Shapt sitting behind his black metal desk, his hands folded over a thick yellow file and his face stretching a smile that could've seemed forced.
"Ah," he said, his voice smooth and calm as he stood up from his desk and pushed the chair back, no sound coming from it, "Miss Starbright I presume?"
"Yes, sir," Jack extended her hand to him and he shook it, "and this is Ian Rider's nephew Alex."
"How do you do?" Shapt asked.
"Fine thank you."
Shapt gave a warm smile and sat down in his desk again.
"I want to thank you for coming--please do sit down--for coming on such short notice. I know it's quick and that it's also your birthday, but my employer told me it was urgent that I show you Mr. Rider's will."
Jack swung a leg on the other and tried to appear confident as she asked, "Well, Mr. Shapt, that's what I needed to ask you."
He nodded, folding his hands again, "Of course, by all means go ahead."
"If Ian had a will, why are we just now being informed of it? It's been almost five years since his death, I mean Alex is eighteen now and I've been his guardian for--"
"I know, Miss Starbright." Shapt interrupted, "The reason we're just now contacting you is because Mr. Rider gave us strict instructions that when this will was made neither the firm or his office were to contact you about it until Alex was eighteen. He believed it to be…I believe his words were 'A safe age'."
Bull. Alex thought as he sat in the uncomfortable hard chair beside Jack. He could see her already tensing up because of the lawyer.
"Oh." she said, shifting in her seat, "well we do have a lot of things to do today so if we could please hurry…?"
Shapt smiled, "Of course, ma'am."
He took his hands off the folder he had in front of them, taking out a thin metal card and placing it over the black square that was on the folder.
It was the newest security system that hospitals, firms, schools, and whoever else kept important files use. The small black square on the folder had a scanner that would read the silver cards special code and only unlock it if the codes matched. Otherwise it was completely useless to try to break into the file.
The black square beeped and Mr. Shapt opened the folder, rummaging through the many papers in it, his brown eyes scanning the headers on each one quickly.
"Ah," he pulled out two papers, "here it is.
"Now then," he smiled again, "let's begin…"
Over the next hour Edward Shapt discussed almost every intricate detail of inside the house to the other properties that Ian had owned, to the precious sports cars that stayed in the garage and to the ownership of the house--Jack slapped his leg and gave a mouthed, "Ha!" as she heard her name.
"Oh, and one last thing." Shapt reached for the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out two separate papers. Alex found it strange that if those two pieces of papers belonged to Uncle Ian's will that they would be out of the yellow file. Wouldn't it be safer in the secured folder?, "Ian told me to place this separate"--There's my answer, Alex thought--"because he said that it was very crucial that you got this."
He reached down again into the drawer and when he straightened up there was a orange and black shoebox in his hands, a simple A. R. on the top. He leaned forward and handed it to Alex, not Jack. Alex stared at it and took it, his eyes furrowing in confusion.
Shapt saw the confusion and he told him, "It's a series of letters he wrote everyday after all the conferences he went away to because of the Royal & General Bank. He said he wanted you to read them once I gave you the will."
Alex felt all his feelings rush up at once to the surface of his conscious but he never let them break through the thick veil of his remorse. He became good at that, hiding the small feelings that felt weak and somewhat not necessary.
But he couldn't help feel them. When Ian died he's thought every recent thing of him, his only family, had left with that death. But it wasn't. In his hands Alex held the letters that he wrote by hand…to him.
"He told me," Shapt continued, "to tell you that you should read them when you're ready and also to…forgive him."
It seemed like forever before he breathed again, before he could truly comprehend the fact that it was his Uncle Ian was asking for forgiveness. Forgiveness for what? He'd never done anything but loved him, taken him in when his parents had died, he'd never done anything to hurt…
Alex looked up from the black and orange shoebox in his hands and at Shapt again. The man was staring at him with a look he knew well, a look he hadn't missed for the past four years, a look that always painted the faces of the oh-so-loved Mrs. Tulip Jones and ever-gray Mr. Blunt.
This man was MI6.
Ian had been apologizing because he knew eventually that they would get Alex, they would use him, hurt him, scar him. Alex felt his insides heat like a white heat in a burning fire, ready to burst once he go too hot.
Jack put her hand on his, Alex stopped looking at Shapt and back at the box. For some reason he didn't want to open it anymore.
It was all your fault…he thought, you led them to me, you led me to MI6, you let them hurt me, you let me meet Ash then lose him in a moment, you let them almost kill me, you let me meet Carter…
He couldn't go on in his own head. He was tasting something in the back of his mouth that was rancid and wanted to get a drink of cold water now.
"Also--" Shapt began again but Alex interrupted him, he wanted to get out already, leave and try to spend the rest of the day with Jack and pretend he never heard the will, saw the box, or met up with the lawyer. He'd not seen MI6 again.
"You said one thing, Shapt." Alex snapped.
"Well, one last thing, Mr. Rider, and then you can both leave."
Shapt slipped on a pair of reading glasses and as he read the document Alex saw Jack's jaw drop slowly and fought the urge to do so with his own.
"I, Ian Mark Rider," Shapt quoted, "leave the sum of fourteen million pounds (Five million dollars. Every 1 dollar in the US is 2.8 pounds in UK) to my late brother's John Rider's son, Alexander Rider. Also I leave with him the amount of money in my account with the Royal & General Bank which contains the amount of one-hundred and twenty-six thousand pounds (forty-five thousand dollars). This money is to be in Alexander's authority on the day of his eighteenth birthday. He is to do with it as he pleases, I only hope that it is in the wisest way possible."
Alex didn't know how long had passed before anyone spoke, before he or Jack breathed. Every ounce of rage he had felt in that one moment seemed to go out as quickly and as suddenly as blowing out a birthday candle. His stomach seemed to sink with surprise and he said the three words he first said to MI6 when they recruited him for Stormbreaker: "You're…you're joking right?"
At least the silent tension was gone now.
Shapt shook his head and down turned his lips, "Of course not. Your name is right here and Mr. Rider's signature is right at the bottom. Print and cursive." he slid the paper towards him on the desk, but before Alex could actually see it Jack snatched it and read the document.
"Holy--!" she put her hand on her mouth and dug her top teeth into her bottom lip. Alex could tell she was trying her best to not swear, she usually did when she was caught off guard by something. Especially something big. This was big. Really big.
"Mr. Shapt," Alex said, taking the paper from a shocked Jack, "the sum can't be right, I mean that's just too much. It's over ."
"Also, your uncle left a life-insurance policy of five million pounds."
Jack muffled the second curse that was about to burst.
"But--"
"He told me personally," Shapt interrupted, "that he wanted to keep you as prepared as possible once you graduated."
Well, he sure did that.
After a few minutes Shapt gave him the account number and password to retrieve the money whenever he needed it and told him if he wished to switch banks in the future he could do so.
Once Shapt had said that, Alex and Jack got up from their chairs and Alex said, "I think I will. I don't trust the Royal & General Bank."
Shapt nodded, but Alex could see the touch of pride in the agent's eyes that he had just hurt. Alex smiled at himself for doing so.
Jack seemed like a piece of bubble gum, inflating until she was going to burst as they walked out onto the streets, pulling their jackets tighter, February was still pretty chilly.
"So," Alex walked backwards again, "Where are--"
She popped.
"OH MY GOSH, ALEX!! I can't--you--Ian--oh my gosh!" she jumped and hugged him tightly and continued rambling on, "You're a freakin' millionaire! You have no option but to go to college, you can do some things and make even more money! Oh my gosh, and like then in the future you could probably…"
Alex rolled his eyes and listened to her excited rambles with pleasure.
It was a day he would never forget, a day where a new life began.
Alec chuckled softly as he remembered that day clearly. He remembered the accomplishments he had been able to do once the money was in his grasp when suddenly everything seemed to be open for him, there wasn't a wall of antagonistic things blocking his way to success anymore. He could do anything now--one of the things on his list were unfortunately bribery.
That year--2010--Alex graduated from Brookland and was accepted into Oxford University--but only because he had worked weekends and throughout the summer ever since his freshman year all the way into the senior year at Oxford, barely seeing any of his friends--Tom had grown sick of it by their junior year. He wanted to be with his best friend, and Alex did too. Tom had started being a lot more…spontaneous once he'd received his License to drive--taking it to its full limit, some of which was probably not even legal. Unfortunately, Tom hadn't been able to go to the University with him though.
See, Tom Harris wasn't dumb, he knew plenty of everything. But he never fully exerted himself into his schoolwork so mainly got low grades, finally leading him to get a grade behind and graduating a year after Alex did. So when the summer came for them Alex stayed and did summer school, his rage against MI6 and sorrow for his loss empowering to get school over with--to get rid of another burden!
By the time he was twenty he was out of Oxford, majoring in business and technology and out of his home with Jack. Leaving with her the life insurance money. He loved her so much by then that when he had moved into the that was 20 minutes away from her he had felt tears brim his eyes and seen them fall from Jack's, but never did they leave his. He had never sobbed or cried since that day in the plantation when Carter had…let go.
He began working for an electronic company that produced every electronic discovered, even security systems that had been housed for the Queen's own Palace.
For a year he worked hard, placing most of his checks in the bank and increasing the amount. When he turned twenty-two he had had a simple "talk" with the president of the Marsh Electric Company--that included a good sum of money, a couple of martinis and a one-night stand--and he became vice-president of the company, putting even more money in his pocket than what he had spent on the thirty-year-old Miss Tina Walker--he was more than happy that she looked like a twenty-six year old than her actual age.
That was barely a year and a half ago.
Now, it was August of 2015, Alex was twenty-three, his money had jumped from £14,000,000 to £74,000,000, he no longer lived twenty minutes away from the old home he knew in a small rinky-dink apartment but instead in a penthouse in the West End of London. His view and sound almost every night--when he was in his house--was a distant light of rotating London Eye and the deep clanging toll of the city's beloved Big Ben and also below his penthouse he could see the ever busy streets of the Piccadilly Circus always lit and always sounding with the conversation of distant people below who never knew about the people living in the condominium that towered over them.
"Sir," Eric asked.
"Yes," Alex dropped the panel where all Eric could see was the two dark brown eyes staring at him through the rear-view mirror.
"Are we not to leave the young ladies at their houses?"
Alex gave a half grin as he looked beside him. The young woman at his side reached up and put her hand on the trim of his jaw, turning it upward and slowly placing her lips on his neck. He could feel her teeth dig into his neck gently and send growing sensations into his torso, making him squeeze the girl tighter to him and quietly moan. The lady was blonde--white blonde, her hair almost blinding--with blue eyes and red painted lips that left imprints on his neck and shirt collar. She was 5' 10" with long legs and a sleek figure, anyone could've taken a quick guess that the lady was a young model. And she was. Twenty years old and modeling for agencies like Elite she was bound to be found in the clubs that Alex always went to.
"Ahem," a third voice cleared their throat. It was the other woman on his other side. She was brunette with big hazel eyes that gave a dark mysterious shine, her long sleek, muscle tight limbs darkened with a beach tan that was perfect. Her grayish pink lips slipped up to his and her slim fingers went into the inside of his thigh and she pressed her chest against his bicep. She also was a model.
Before Alex could answer Eric, the two girls were already tugging on the sleeves of his suit jacket and the brunette was slowly intertwining into the first two buttoned buttons of his shirt, beginning to expose his smooth chest. Alex kissed her fiercely and tightened his embrace on the two girls.
"Straight to the condo," Eric chuckled, sliding up the black glass panel.
Alex chuckled as he continued to tangle his lips with the model.
It was Friday night--well technically Saturday, three in the morning. He had a usual routine on days like this, it continued throughout the weekend. Fridays after work he'd go back to the penthouse, shower, change into the best looking outfit he had and head to a club in the "New York Part of London"--that's what Tom called it. The flashes of neon lights, the loud music, the roar of several cars and high laughter. It was busy and it was fun.
Every Friday, Saturday, and sometimes Sunday nights he would head out to the clubs. Jazz clubs, dance clubs, underground clubs any of them but strip clubs. He went once, an uncomfortable experience. And almost every night that he came back from the clubs he was never alone.
He was coming back from the club "The Black Night Dream", one of his favorites but definitely not one of the best. It knew him though. Every club usually did. He would always take the VIP seating near the front or in the back near the roof. Either way he had the best.
Including women.
Over the years he had gone from his 5' 9" stature to a full 6' 4" height. Everyday he would head into the gym and work out for two hours--his main exercise the punching bag, just the repeated striking helped him get out the emotions that were still raging inside him from the last mission he'd done for MI6 and CIA. So he was pretty muscular. His hair seemed to lighter as he got older--but not drastically--and now its light brown tone had faded to dirty blonde that still looked more brown than anything. His eyes were still mysteriously and elderly hazel, aged with the information and experience he never should've received ever, period. His scars were faded now--scar cream actually works!--except for 3. The first from the bullet Scorpia had shot in him after successfully shutting down Invisible Sword, and the ones of his wrists from the chains they had put on his nine years ago. The same ones Carter--his beautiful exotic partner Cassandra--Carter--Luving--had gotten off of him.
He always kept his hair spiked, he didn't like it long anymore. Carter had told him it looked better with more length and since then he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
Carter…
Even as he locked lips with the brunette at his side, his mind always strayed to those foggy memories he tried so hard to forget but found it all impossible. Everyday, every moment, they prodded him, poked him, held him in their dark cold embrace. Every night seemed to be one of insomnia as the nightmares from that one moment filled his sleep and he woke up in rapid pants and sweat.
It was that one moment from nine years ago, when he and Carter had dangled from that weak electric cord--below them over forty floors that were caved in with metal, glass, toxic gases, and a fire. MI6 had supposedly kept their grip on the cord, they were supposedly pulling them out. But someone had attacked the men and made their grip slip, causing him and Carter to fall downward. But as the cord jerked to a stop Carter had slipped and gone down the rope, Alex had barely gotten her hand and was holding onto her with all his might. But by the time MI6 was pulling them up again the cord was tearing and only a few silicon strands remained. It wouldn't hold them both up…and Carter was the first to full accept it. And before Alex could stop her, before he could reach for her, hold her, she kissed his hand and said, "I love you, Alex Rider," and let go.
Every night he saw her falling down into that black pit, practically felt her slip from his grasp, heard her voice…The memory always haunted him. Always hurt him. It always felt like black thorns were raking his heart, stabbing a dagger of numbing pain into him.
Since then he lived this life. He never had one girlfriend, he never remembered their names. He didn't have a real group of friends, just Tom and himself. He tried to live "The Beautiful Life" and he was now. But there's always pain behind the beauty. Carter was his.
The Mercedes rolled to a stop and Alex heard the engine silence.
"Are we here?" the blonde girl, Trish, popped. Her voice didn't sound like it would belong to her, like she was just lip-synching her words. The voice sounded like it would belong to a cheerleader chewing bubblegum.
Alex heard Eric's car door open then slam shut. "Sir," Eric voice sounded as he opened the passenger door for the three.
The blonde got out first, then Alex, then the brunette. He put his arm around their shoulders and walked towards the building in front of them. Trish practically gasped as she saw it, Eowyn--the brunette--stifled her surprise. Alex thought she looked like the kind of person who had seen things like this.
Alex lived on the "rich" part of town now, no longer in the two-story house that belonged to his Uncle with Jack--technically it was hers now, according to the will--and no longer in the apartment that was twenty minutes away from that house. Instead he lived at the top of the Silver Wing, a condominium beside the Piccadilly Circus. It looked more like an expensive hotel where perhaps the King of Peru would reside rather than where several wealthy patrons did. The outside was definitely something that caught the eye and made them practically drop jaw at the sight. It stood forty-eight stories high with windows that shined in the sunlight like diamonds sparkling with direct light, it was built with cream-colored bricks that felt smooth as porcelain, there was a ledge for every floor and it was made of smooth black granite. The entrance of the Silver Wing was a lot like one of those grand hotels as well, the rain canopy extended from the door to the sidewalk, it was rounded at the top and deep crimson with letters on the front that said Silver Wing. Under the canopy there was a red trimmed carpet that stretched out as far as the canopy.
"Thank you, Eric," Alex said, ducking into the canopy and out of the dashes of sprinkling rain, the two models in both arms.
He heard the car pull away but only because it hit a puddle of water and splashed it, the engine was too quiet to actually hear.
"You live here?" Trish popped excitedly.
Alex rolled his eyes. This one could unbelievably pass for the girl Elle Woods in the movie "Legally Blonde"--more mentally than physically.
"Yes, I do," Alex said politely, Why else would I bring you to a condominium?
They walked into the building and Alex swore Trish was going to rip his arm off.
Inside, the whole first floor was mainly a lobby. The floor was made of black marble that was speckled with silver flecks and was always waxed to a glassy shine. There was a glass chandelier dangling from the center of the high ceiling, sparkling its reflection the walls like a thousand little gems. There was a grand ivory staircase that took a huge turn upstairs, on its rail there was a single silver vine that entwined all the way up and a leaf splayed like a knob on the direct top--but very rarely was it that the residents used the staircase, they preferred the sleek black mirror-walled elevator that was beside it. You couldn't even feel the plunge it the glass paneled lifter gave, couldn't feel it move.
In the far back of the lobby there was a long white couch with thin black pillows, two chairs with the same pillows, the whole part of the wall was a touch-screen television and to the other side there was a slide glass panel that lead to the building's pool that stretched out about forty feet in width and sixty in length.
"Good day, Mr. Rider," the man behind the desk greeted.
The condominium had a reception desk where you could pay for your condo if you rented it or what not. The receptionist, Jake, was pretty young. Eighteen at the most, he had short black brown hair and blue eyes and was pretty well-built. He usually greeted Alex as a friend and even more so when he had beautiful women around--which was most of the time.
"Hey, J," Alex said, his deep voice dark yet velvet. It made the brunette get closer to him and made him tighten his hold on her.
"Brought friends?" Jake asked, leaning over the desk, his face glowing at the sight of the women.
"Of course, this is Trish," the blonde smiled girlishly, "and Emily."
"Eowyn,"
"Eowyn," Alex quickly corrected his speech as Eowyn did.
Jake stifled his laugh. Alex rolled his eyes--he was never good at names and sometimes actually felt like telling the people who corrected him at it, or anything, "I don't care." but he never did.
"Good night, Jake," Alex said, still holding the girls and walking to the elevator.
"Good morning actually." Jake told him.
I don't care! Alex snapped in his mind.
The elevator doors opened and they stepped in. Alex pressed the top button and the elevator shot up to the fortieth floor. He lived in the penthouse at the top and absolutely loved it. It hadn't been sold at a cheap price but it was worth every penny.
The elevator door opened and Alex moved the grate that stood in as a door, sliding it up with ease.
Before he could say or do anything the girls pulled him into the penthouse and Alex smiled.
Hmmm…the beautiful life…
Please do review!! I would really apprecaite it. I tried to catch everyone up on Alex's life as much as possible. It's August of 2015 if you didn't catch it. The story is a sequel to my other story "A New Mission, A New Love" Thanks for reading and pleeeeeeeeeeeease do review! I could use the critic as much as possible. Thanks.
-Millie
