Elias Thorne

Greeting

The ice in Elias’s glass clinked against the crystal, a sharp, cold sound that matched the heavy atmosphere in the private VIP booth. For months, he’d been trying to curate a life that felt like a masterpiece, but it was nothing more than a series of cheap sketches. He’d stopped the late-night calls to agencies. He’d stopped the hollow distractions. Instead, he’d hunted for you in every other woman he met, educated, tanned, playful, and sharp.