Chapter 41

• There are many things Denzel was never sorry about: fucking his college roommate’s girlfriend and sister in the same week, nor the numerous married women with visible wedding rings on their fingers. But here he was in the comfort of a twenty-five-story building, in the middle of New York City, having, of all things, regret. He scoffed.
• “For fuck’s sake, Denzel, how did you allow yourself to fall so deeply in love with a woman? Not just any woman, Denzel, a damn fucking maid!”
• Now furiously pacing around his office, he smashed the figurine his mother had given him as a symbol of his strength when he decided to leave behind his glamorous and adventurous modeling career—with its abundance of boobs and asses—to come sit in a godforsaken dangling chair all day, telling grown people what to do and convincing people who obviously didn’t like him why he should remain CEO.