James and Alexandra
It was just before ten o-clock on Friday evening and James Henry was sitting alone in his bedroom nursing his scotch. His usually tidy brown hair, was ruffled from him consistently running his hands through it. He had arrived at tonight’s gala event late and unaccompanied. He had stayed only an hour before heading home, alone. He was not in a good mood, and hadn’t been for the past month. He couldn’t keep his thoughts off of Alexandra Morgan. It kept him in a continuous state of anger and...