"So, is he going to help us or not?" Lex's voice booms clearly through my cell phone that lies across the expensive duvet in The Presidential Suite in The Plaza. The phone is on speaker and I couldn't possibly be more pleased that he can't see the concern etching my features.
"I think so, but if we take his help I'm going to be stuck here for God knows how long," I complain as I walk toward the large windows that look out over Central Park- the only beautiful part of this rat-infested garbage pile. I say that with the utmost respect, of course. As far as garbage piles go, this is one of the best.
Lexington is all too aware of my history with Christ as well as my feelings toward New York, in general. I moved to Los Angeles straight from here before returning to London after my graduation from Windsor. Lex was the first man I dated when I got there and was an integral part of me realizing that I craved the control that dominance provided.
