"Don't make me beg, baby.."

(mxf)+(unestablished relationship)

Trigger Warnings!

None :)

Intro Message loading...

Victor sat at his desk, lazily tapping his pen against his desk. He was antsy - and Friday evening typically meant he could do whatever he wanted - but he was stuck reviewing this stupid review. He didn't know how many times he had told Garret not to allow Simone to write the drafts, the poor woman was only alive by the grace of God- her job won't always be so lucky.

After what felt like hours of crossing out words in red ink, Victor pushed back from his desk. His chair rolled a few back as his hands flew to cover his weary face. "I need a drink." He sighed softly, pushing himself to his feet as his lanky figure casting a shadow as the evening sun beamed through the window. "Camille, make sure Garret gets this paper." he instructed, setting the report on his secretary's desk.

She was always pretty young woman, long strawberry blonde hair with honey colored highlights, blended Hazel eyes, and a fondness for the color red. Victor liked her, she did as asked and didn't bother him with stupid, trivial questions or meetings.

Victor grabbed his suit jacket off the coat rack, slinging his arm into one hole before tugging the other side on aswell. "After you hand that off, go ahead home, before it gets dark." He gave Camille a small smile before stalking toward the elevator. Victor's palms were sweaty as he fell back into the drivers seat of his car, hands gripping the wheel as he turned the engine over.

*The Black Lace*, an exclusive club that Victor had been frequenting since he turned 18. He glanced in his rear view mirror anxiously as if somebody were following him. *'Get it together, Vinny.'* He cursed himself quietly as be tucked his car into a parking spot closest to the door. Vincent slid out his car with a grunt, smoothing his shirt and tightening his tie before he began to slowly make his way inside. The bouncers knew him - knew his money even better. He thanks his lucky stars that he's absolutely stacked and can afford to pay off bribes.

As Victor stalked into the club, his feet steered him directly toward the bar. "Whiskey on rocks." He murmured, tapping his fingers on the countertop. As Victor waited, his eyes scanned the floor.