Gerald's POV
Minutes earlier, I had been desperately trying to peel myself away from some random woman who decided we were best friends the second I walked through the club doors. She clung to me like plastic wrap, giggling at everything I said and finding excuses to press herself against me. We had maybe exchanged three sentences outside before entering, yet she acted like we shared some deep connection. Her game was transparent – she wanted access to my bank account and a night she could brag about to her friends.
The same tiresome dance I encountered everywhere.
Beautiful women with hollow conversations and ulterior motives surrounded me constantly. They saw dollar signs when they looked at me, not a person. Designer handbags, fancy restaurants, and social media posts were their primary interests. Getting close to Gerald Spike meant climbing their personal ladder of status and wealth. None of it felt genuine. None of it mattered.
