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“It was high time someone taught that son of a gun a lesson.” Daniel laughed, seated in the visitor’s chair across my desk. His brown eyes simmered under the soft chandelier glow, his gaze fixed on me. “Funny how he couldn’t even throw a single punch.”

Daniel Tarasov—my younger brother, the easygoing one of the two of us—had stopped by my office this afternoon. He’d heard about the incident with Barlow—what transpired and the outcome. The videos of my outburst had gone viral on the internet, and there was hardly anyone who hadn’t seen or heard about it.

My brother was pleased by my reaction. He believed that I’d shown the world that Barlow wasn’t as untouchable as everyone thought.

“I’ve seen that video a thousand times, and I honestly still can’t get enough of it,” Daniel said, his body shaking subtly as he chuckled hard, his legs crossed. “That blow was precise, and I’m sure you fractured his jaw. That’ll teach him not to mess with the Tarasov bloodline.”

I sat back in my leather armchair, a cigar smoldering between my lips. A thin thread of smoke swirled around me as I took a drag, tasting its flavors on my tongue. “Barlow should have kept his mouth shut,” I said, my voice low and deep, a puff of smoke escaping my lips.

“If he had, he would have kept his face the way it was.” Daniel chortled, his fingers grasping the bottle of whiskey on my mahogany table. “Barlow’s been such a pain in my ass, and I’m glad you finally put him in his place.” He poured himself a glass and relaxed in his chair, taking a sip.

The door opened, and Alex, my most trusted lieutenant, walked into my office with a file in his hand. His expression was blank as usual, his shoes clicking softly on the marble floor as he approached my desk.

“Boss, we have a situation,” he said, halting in front of my table.

My eyes squinted ever so slightly, my brows knitting together to accentuate the puzzled look on my face.

“Your temper is making headlines again,” he said, his voice calm and collected.

“Yep, wouldn’t be the first time,” Daniel chipped in, sipping from his glass.

My brother was right. This uncontrollable temper of mine had landed me in so much trouble so many times, especially with law enforcement agencies. However, with my power and connections, I’d always come out unscathed. Los Angeles should get used to me by now.

“It’s different this time,” Alex said, wearing a somewhat serious expression on his face.

My brother and I exchanged glances before my gaze fell on Alex, my curiosity piqued. “How so?” I asked, wondering what had changed all of a sudden.

“As entertaining as the nightclub incident was, it’s landed you in trouble,” he said, his eyes fixed on me with an expression that screamed I told you so .

“What kind of trouble?” I questioned, wondering what was above my power and connection.

“Law enforcement is taking a closer look at us, and your…outburst didn’t exactly help our case.” The pause came when he handed me the document in his hand. “We’ve received word that the DA is pushing for charges.”

My smirk faltered as I accepted the document, and my eyes scanned through the pages. I raised an eyebrow, and my face darkened the more I read. “Is this some kind of joke?” I jerked my head to face him, my voice dripping with disdain.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” came his flat response.

Daniel, confused, shifted his gaze between the two of us, completely in the dark. “What’s going on?” He leaned forward, curiosity getting the better of him.

I tossed the document on the table and let out a dismissive scoff. “The court has ordered me to attend a mandatory therapy session. Can you believe that?”

My brother burst out laughing at how ridiculous it sounded. “You? Therapy? I almost feel sorry for the doctor.”

“Alex, you can tell the DA’s office to kiss my ass because there’s no way I’m playing their game,” I said, cracking a smile at the absurdity of the so-called punishment. “Can you imagine me sitting and spilling out my feelings to some glorified shrink?” I laughed.

“Actually, I can,” he said, his statement striking me like lightning.

My laugh trailed off as I glared at him, a faint scowl flashing across my face.

“With all due respect, sir, you crossed a line,” he added with a calm voice, soft and smooth.

My jaw clenched, disappointed by his perspective on the situation. “You were there. You saw what happened, and you know that Barlow started it,” I said, a pang of irritation swelling up within me.

“True,” he said without taking his eyes off me. “But you threw the first punch, sir. You beat the crap out of him in front of those witnesses.”

“He had it coming,” I said, sharp and defensive.

“Perhaps. But that’s beside the point,” he paused, then continued. “Things could have escalated more than that. Lives would have been lost—innocent lives—and the situation would have spiraled out of control.”

My hand balled into a fist, and my jaw tightened at the harsh truth that I wasn’t ready to face.

“Damon Barlow is well connected, and he has powerful friends in high places—”

“I’ve told you before: I’m not afraid of Damon Barlow,” I cut him off, my scowl deepening as a spark of rage jolted across my body.

“This isn’t about fear, sir,” he said, his tone cool but audacious. “It’s about self-control, a construct the world believes you lack.”

I felt my blood boil at the bitter taste of the truth, a truth that only fueled my rage.

“Considering the kind of man Barlow is and the condition you left his face in, we’re lucky a mandatory therapy session is all we get,” Alex concluded.

“Well, now that you put it like that, it kinda makes sense,” Daniel said, his gaze shifting from Alex to me. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…he’s right.”

Of course, he was right. I knew that he was, and that was the reason I was so pissed. But as much as I hated the bitter truth, there was little or nothing that I could do about it.

Law enforcement was already looking into my case, and the last thing I needed was more trouble. Disobeying a direct court order would only escalate the matter. There was no need to make the situation any worse than it already was.

Despite my reservations, I knew deep down that I couldn’t afford to ignore the court’s verdict. In order to avoid more severe legal consequences, I would have to swallow my pride and attend the therapy sessions.

It was a ridiculous idea—yes. But I didn’t have much choice. I couldn’t risk jeopardizing everything I’d worked so hard to build over some little dispute with the court. No. It wasn’t worth it.

Perhaps the therapy sessions might be good for me, even though I highly doubted the possibility. However, the sooner I got the stupid task done, the sooner everything would return to normal again.