Welcome, my lovelies! So happy to see you here! Quick reminder! Collisions with Clouds is a collab story I'm working on with Jgaff. I'll post the beginning chapters here, but make sure you follow us over on our collab page, JM Jill. The whole story will be posted there!

Edward

Several coworkers surround me at the bar where we've come to celebrate. Every once in a while, I throw a smile in their direction, just to appease them. Like right now, fucking Demetri Styles, my partner, is passing me this shit-eating grin, so I lift my glass in his direction with a half-smile. Directly after I give him my phony-bologna smile, I take a huge gulp of the liquor, relishing the burn on my tongue and the fire it creates in my throat. At least this way, I actually feel something—something besides the numb that has become my life.

Howl at the Moon is packed tonight. Occupants from all walks of life fill the bar, and dueling pianos play from opposite corners. Usually, this place is my secret recourse after a long day at work, loving the chords filling the room, adding excitement to the lively space. Right now, however, I am having a tough time getting in the mood.

I thought if I worked my ass off and strived to get to the top of my business, all would be right with the world. I'm now the co-owner of Cullen's Creations, yet I feel as void as ever. The only difference is now; I have a big fat Rolex on my wrist. People say money can't buy happiness, and my motto is, it is better to be in misery rich rather than poor. With this thought foremost in my mind, I set my drink down and push it aside.

There are perks to getting ripped and having to piss every other minute isn't at the top of that list. Several coworkers slap me across the back as I make my way to the bathroom. Luckily, the buzz from the tequila I'd consumed is just starting to take effect, and the emptiness I'd recently been feeling starts to evaporate. By the time I waltz out of the bathroom, the smile on my face isn't entirely as phony.

Stephanie, a sales associate, is lingering next to the table when I go to retrieve the drink I'd left behind. I find that strange as hell, considering she's been shacking up with Demetri on more than one occasion. Yet, for some reason, she's pinning me with a lust-filled stare, and my first thought was to escape. Before I can, however, she steps in my path.

She is a striking figure, all that white-blonde hair and tight body filling that leisure suit quite nicely. If I hadn't just built this company from a lot of lonely nights and tirelessly endless hours, landing the fucking account of a lifetime with Stretch, the new athletic line I decided to promote, I might be tempted to drag her to my bed. Of course, her rendezvous with Demetri was also a deal-breaker. I would never do that to my partner. Judging by that smile on her face, she didn't have the same setback, I noticed, but that just made her nasty in my book.

"I just wanted to offer you a heartfelt congratulations," she says, a beaming grin showing off her pearly whites.

I slightly shift as she sidles up to me. Disgusted by her blatant disregard for my partner, who is otherwise occupied, I back up a few paces. Grimacing, my lips draw tight against my teeth as I shake my head with a wrinkle of my nose. "Yeah, well, considering I am now your boss, and you are currently spoken for … that wouldn't be such a hot idea."

"I beg to differ," she argues with an arched white brow. Stephanie's hand lands in the middle of my chest and would've taken the trek down hard abs, but once again, I shift out of reach. Thankfully, I manage to dislodge her questing fingers before she happens to reach my belt.

Doing my best to discourage her, I return my attention to my drink with a flicker of thick brows. "Think I'd rather finish this and get the hell out of here. Plenty of work to get back to."

"Your loss," she states, pushing between some of the bar's occupants. Of course, the girl manages to add a little pep to her step as she swings her ass in my direction.

"I just bet it is." With a mild chuckle, I shake my head, downing the rest of the amber liquid as I push away from the table. Before I even reach the door, the structure wavers before my eyes. This was utterly stupid, considering I hadn't even had more than four shots, far from being enough to do any real damage. Even as the thought passes through my mind, my tongue begins to tingle. My steps falter as I cross the lot to my car, and upon contemplation, I stare at the gravel beneath my feet.

Before I even manage to reach the BMW, a weight slams into my back. I feel the press of cold metal against my cheek as my face is slammed hard into the hood. A pain I'd never experienced before shoots through my skull, causing everything around me to turn red. Blinking rapidly, I refocus on what is happening, and instantly I become aware that a gun is indisputably resting at my other temple. "If you wanna live, I'd suggest emptying your pockets really easy … don't forget to add that nice ass Rolex to the pile, either. What'd you pay for that?"

"F-f-forty grand, fucking bastard," I state, my words muffled by this haze fogging my brain. I'm not even sure why I feel compelled to supply him with the information he seeks. The words seem to slip off my tongue, however. Before I can reach into my pockets to empty them upon his request, I feel heavy hands being shoved inside them. I groan aloud when my head presses hard into the hood, feeling like the weight of his hand is crushing my skull.

Like I'm facing a fucking grizzly bear, my form falls utterly lax beneath groping fingers, and I taste the coppery essence of my blood coating my teeth. The entire time I'm eating the hood of my car, this weird sensation ripples through my limbs, and my body instantly feels weak. "Dude … j-just take whatever you want … Ain't fighting ya … just ease up a bit."

"Ain't easin' up on shit … Looks like your ass has taken the easy road too much in your life. Motherfucker … ease up … don't got time for that shit."

I should fight back, but for reasons beyond my understanding, my muscles feel leaden. My tongue suddenly becomes thick in my mouth, nearly numb, and I have to wonder if the robber has given me a concussion. There is definitely a fucking lump forming … I can feel the knot throbbing to life, and the need to shake the fuzz from my gaze becomes unbearable.

"After all, forty grand … woo wee … that will buy a lot of smack."

Fantastic, I'm being robbed for crack, or heroin, or whatever the shit smack happened to be … Of all the times to choose to leave the fucking bar, I had to pick now. As the guy holding a Glock to my head bends lower, the smell of peppermint wafts to my nose, the scent so potent it burns my nostrils. Even if I manage to make it through this robbery alive … then, what?

Not like I can do a line up by fucking smell. I feel like I've been bent over the hood for an eternity, but finally, the fingers digging into the back of my neck go lax, and I find myself standing next to my car, minus one expensive ass Rolex and my fucking wallet. While they both are devastating losses, I can't bring myself to give a shit. Currently, breathing trumps all the possessions that were stolen from me.

I can feel the bruise developing along my cheek as I fight to remain upright. My fucking temples are throbbing, and I subconsciously pat my pocket for my phone. When I come up empty-handed, I consider going back to the bar and calling the police … but the need to get the fuck out of here before the dude comes back fills me.

Slamming the key into the ignition, I start the car and throw it in reverse, and with squealing tires burning across the pavement, I fly out of the parking lot. My adrenaline is racing; the robbery causing my blood pressure to spike and a fever to claw through my veins as the night's events slam into me, and I beg them to stop. I will myself to calm down … In a few freaking minutes, I'd be at the station and filing a report. That is my last thought as my vision wavers, and the road before me shifts, and all I see is blinding lights coming straight at me.

X

With a pained groan, I reach out and slap the alarm. No matter how hard I hit the damn thing, the beeps keep ringing off the walls. With more determination, I swing so hard the alarm flies off the table and now dangles by the cord. While there is no need for that type of force, my mission is accomplished when the noise stops.

Momentarily, I lay there blinking at the adjacent wall as visions of the night before come screaming back to me. This time, a tortured moan leaves my lips as memory of my fucking watch … prized possession was lifted off my person for fucking smack. Yeah, it sounds pathetic, I know … but when I landed the account with Stretch, that had been the first thing I bought. Trivial, I know, but still … "Motherfucker …"

My entire body feels like one giant bruise as I roll to my feet and pad across the cherrywood. Stopping by the window, my appreciation for the city is renewed as I observe the lights glowing from random buildings, illuminating the skyline that makes this place famous. Chicago, the windy city, has been my home all my life. There is quite simply no better place on this earth. As I brush the hair off my forehead, I cringe as I encounter the knot left there by my robber friend. I have to admit, the damage left behind has me seriously reevaluating my speculation about my hometown.

Glancing at my reflection staring back at me, I consider my eye, black as shit from hitting the hood. That fucking officer I dealt with at the precinct pissed me off to no end. I repeated exactly what happened word for word, and the bastard had pulled a paper from his desk and barely acknowledged my presence.

Slapping the glass that separates us, I say, "I hope you are taking me seriously. I'm going to need a copy of that police report as well for my records."

The fucker glances toward the partition with annoyance apparent in his gaze before refocusing on the paper. Hoping he heard my accounts of the events, I repeat, "He slammed me against my car if you can't tell by the massive lump on my head. Then he proceeded to clean out my pockets, even stole my damn watch."

Once again, the officer didn't say a word, merely nodding as I spoke. I was half tempted to ask if he was listening or bobbing his head in time to the music, I heard seeping through the flimsy barrier. I know they have more important things going on in their lives than the shit stolen from me, but I find the need to make sure he is taking me seriously. When he started to push free from his desk, I stop him, saying, "Sir, I'm going to need a copy of that report, or something stating I was here."

His hand shoves a paper in my direction, and only slightly appeased, I reach through the hole and take it as I beat a hasty retreat from the station.

If that is any indication of how the police department handles crime in this city, it is little wonder why corruption is so big. Shaking my head, I contemplate everything I have to do today. Considering my wallet was stolen, and the robber now has my personal information, not to mention my address, I determined my best bet is to relocate. The last thing I want is another visit from the guy who'd lifted my prized possession. Then, I have to find a way to replace my identification, which should prove to be a real treat, seeing how difficult it could be dealing with the license branch. "Sounds like a really great day ahead of me."

While I should be focused on the account Cullen's Creations has just secured and making one hell of a campaign plan for their brand, I am forced to deal with a bunch of senseless errands. Not even remotely excited by the day before me, I turn to the closet and sort through my suits, choosing the dove gray Italian wool one. Grabbing a Chinese silk tie from the display rack, I lay the clothing out on my bed before hurriedly showering.

With a towel around my waist, I stand there gaping at the image in the mirror, examining the bruises. Several blood vessels have ruptured in my eye, causing the white part to turn blood red, while the lid itself is black and swollen. "People are going to think I was in one hell of a boxing match."

After styling my hair, I hurriedly dress, eager to get this whole day started. The sooner it starts, the sooner it will be over. After all, I really need to find a new place to live, and honestly, after everything that transpired last night, the idea of living alone doesn't happen to sound too appealing. Tightening the tie against my collar, I go in search of my cufflinks, and after pushing them through the eyelets, I smooth the jacket down the sides.

By the time I finish getting ready, my attention darts to the window to find the sun peeking up through the building. Bright rays beam through the glass, casting the room in an orangish-red glow. I already know that big, orange ball of fire is a misconception. There is simply no way it offers the warmth it suggests. Being the start of November, the chill in the air is undeniable. I yank the long wool trench from the rack by the door and slip it on with a grunt.

Patting my pockets to make sure I didn't forget anything; I remember my keys and head back into the kitchen.

Where the fuck are my keys? Holy shit … I search the countertop where I normally place them in a dish close to the fridge only to come up empty-handed. How is that even possible? The only thing I can conclude is I'd had an unexpected visitor after passing out last night. With panic setting in, I rip my condo apart to ensure I hadn't overlooked them or placed them in an unexpected location.

Dragging my hand through my hair, I stand in the middle of the floor and look at the chaos around me. I'd completely obliterated my living space, all in search of keys that never turned up, holy fuck …

He'd come back—he'd come back and stolen my fucking car. With this thought in mind, I fly out of the apartment and race down to the garage. My fucking parking spot is empty. Another unexpected blow and my fingers grip my hair in frustration, feeling the need to pull it out by roots.

Upon discovering my car has been stolen, I feel like I am in physical pain. Watching my breath swirl in froth around me, I wrap the wool trench tighter around myself and turn to the elevator, heading back to my condo in order to contact the police, only to remember my stolen phone.

Okay, now I am in a real pickle. I have no wallet, no cash, all my credit cards have been stolen … my phone is gone … now my car. What a fucking nightmare. Just when I think all hope is gone, I remember the safe tucked in the back of my closest. Closing my eyes, I send a quick thank you to the heavens as I head in there and clean it out.

Twenty grand, passport, credit card, and several bonds sit inside the safe. While it isn't exactly safe to be running around Chicago with this type of cash and information, I'd be damned if I left it here to be stolen. Finally, I'm ready to face the day, and with a heavy sigh, I exit the condo.

With everything that has transpired in less than twenty-four hours, I simply can't face the day without stopping by the Starbucks around the corner. Of course, they are never short on business, so I stand in line for what feels like an eternity. Coming to the barista, I meet her hazel gaze, "I would like a large black coffee with a splash of cream …"

"Hi, how can I help you," she instantly asks, seeming to study me hard.

Is it possible I hadn't spoken as loud as I'd thought? Clearing my throat, I try again. "I would like a large black coffee with cream …"

Her gaze drops away from mine as she punches the order into the computer. After I swipe my card, I step to the side to await my coffee, surprised when the person behind me orders the exact same thing. Waving off the coincidence, I grab the coffee the barista sets on the countertop and make a quick beeline for the closest newspaper stand before heading for the subway. I am just about to step into an awaiting car when someone bumps into me as we both try to fit through the door.

Grunting, I pass him a lethal stare, my gaze colliding with light blue eyes. There is something about the way he looks at me that raises the hair on my arms. Surely, now I am just being hypersensitive to people around me, I think, as I drop eye contact to focus on the paper. I am just opening it to the living section when a gust of air rips the section away from me, sending the sheet fluttering through the car, and sucked right out the door. "Fuck my life …"

"How the fuck can my day get any worse? Is the universe conspiring against me?" These thoughts are the only fucking thing that makes any sense. The only sheet I manage to keep a hold of, luckily, is the entire reason I'd bought the newspaper to begin with. Releasing a deep lungful of air as frustration wells in my chest, I do my best to focus on the listings in search of roommates in the city.

Considering my shitty ass luck, I decide to head over and secure this apartment before anyone else can. As I exit the train car, my attention floats around the occupants one last time before heading for the door, only to collide once again with the rude individual who'd bumped into me. Once again, something in his expression captivates me for a long second, yet when I can't put my finger on it, I shrug off the feeling before slipping out of the car.

Navigating through the streets of Chicago, it doesn't take long before I am able to locate the address listed, and I'm headed in that direction when I happen to focus on a lone figure coming up from the opposite direction. Was she heading to the same place? There is no way she is here to see the same freaking apartment. As the thought crosses my mind, I notice my pace increases, and instantly, she becomes aware of my presence.

She is quite pretty if one wants to think about that type of thing … which, by the way, I don't. My life has turned to shit in the last several hours, and the very last thing I need to focus on was how nicely those jeans she wears seem to hug those long-ass legs or the knee-high boots that are sexy as hell. Of course, her hair is full and lustrous, nearly reaching a narrow waist emphasized by the form-fitting coat she wore. But I refuse to acknowledge any of that as I hurry up the walk.

I notice the faster I seem to go, she seems to match my pace, and soon we are both racing up the walk from opposite directions. At almost the same time, we slam into the building's revolving door and breathlessly dart for the elevator on opposite sides of the lobby. In a nervousness I haven't known for an awfully long time, I rapidly hit the button the same she does, and in tandem, we enter the elevator at the same time. Impatiently, I fidget as I will it to move faster.

One floor …

two …

three …

At a freaking snail's pace, the damn thing seems to climb. I am sorely tempted to open the doors and run up the stairs instead. At this rate, I'd be lucky to reach the twentieth floor by dinnertime. After what seemed like an eternity, the doors slide open to reveal an elegantly decorated hallway. I don't have time to appreciate the décor for long; however, because across the hall from the elevator I'd just exited, the other one opens at roughly the same time.

As my gaze locks with the chick, I'd seen on the first floor, the same desperation fills me all over again. Concurrent thoughts must've been conclusive between the two of us because now we are both jogging down the hallway searching for apartment five. Sliding in front of the door in unison, I kind of give her a nudge, hoping to get her out of the way. Knocking frantically, only to be knocked off balance when she returns the gesture, her own knuckles tapping at the same time. Glowering down at her, I say, "You are starting to get on my nerves."

She doesn't get a chance to respond because the door is ripped open by a monster of a man, his gaze dropping into a glare. His head comes out a fraction as he regards us with a suspicious stare.

"What the hell?"

See you next week!