Chapter 1

The walk to work is tedious and draining. I've walked here many times, much too accustomed to the everyday violence that unwinds in the streets. I try to ignore it because I'm usually not a victim of it. Broken glass bottles lay on puddles of alcohol, blood, and another substance which puts me on edge to think about. How did it get there? Was it voluntary, or forced? Either way, I try my best to ignore everything that makes this alley terrifying.

It's not rained in a couple of days, so the streets are pretty dirty. I wish cleaners would come here to at least make this place look a little less like something out of a horror movie. I also wish there were more streetlights. I hate bumping into things, stepping on shit, and tripping over bottles on my way to and from work.

When I finally arrive, I breathe a sigh of relief. I've made it here without any issues. Upon entering the club, I am greeted by blasting music, a crowd of dancers, people sitting at the bar, and numerous staff members. I hold back the urge to join everyone and start dancing on the dance floor. Maybe one time I will if I turn up to work drunk.

"Hey, Boss. We got a new shipment of wine. Where do you want these?" An employee asks.

"You can place them there," I reply, pointing to the storage room. I make my way up the stairs then to the back and head into my office. I can barely hear myself think on the main dance floor.

I am met with papers strewn about on my desk. Sighing, I look through them. They mostly consist of bills I need to pay, and costs of certain equipment. I throw myself on my chair. I can afford it, but it's exhausting all the same. The good thing about this place is that it's very popular. Loads of customers enjoy coming here. The downside is this place is very expensive to keep running.

A knock on the door snaps me out of my reverie. I quickly sit up and shout, "Come in!" My Personal Assistant - David - enters.

"Have you received the email I sent to you?" He asks, timidly.

"Not yet. Let me have a quick look." I grab my laptop from my bag, log in then load up my work emails. I notice the email from David and load it up. I open the attached file and come across a cash budget, containing the profit made and the costs for this month. According to this, we've made some good profit, but the costs are higher than ever. We had to invest in more seating arrangements because this place is so popular, new speakers, lights, drinks, etc. Everything nowadays has shot up in price. The numbers make my brain hurt. I wasn't a big fan of maths in school, and I sure as hell am not a big fan of anything remotely close to maths now. I sometimes forget such basic calculations, and almost always need to use a calculator.

"Is that everything?" I ask, wanting him to leave.

"Yep. I'll leave you to it." He leaves the office, gently closing the door on his way out. Once he's left, I lean back in my chair. I zone out, mentally preparing myself for my workload for today. I want to get this over with so I can go home and sleep all day. Hell, I could even sleep in here if it was not considered unprofessional.

***

After work - which is very late at night - I leave the club. I'm too tired to be scared at the possibility of being harmed. I learned martial arts when I was younger anyway, so I'll just bust out some of those moves if anyone tries anything.

The silence unsettles me. There is no one in sight. The street is empty. There is no wind - it's a warm, summer night. The only thing that can be heard is my footsteps, even though they're quiet. That's odd - I usually hear muffled noises or drunken laughter and chatter. I guess everyone decided to go home early tonight.

Footsteps approach from behind me. They're running. Before I can turn around I go crashing to the ground, with the weight of someone else on top of me.

"Lady! You gotta save me! Please!" Before I can answer, the man is thrown off me. I sit up to find another man choking him.

"You dare hurt my family?" he mutters. The guy being choked whimpers.

I slowly back away, staggering upright. I make as little noise as possible to avoid being the next target. I stop breathing. What is even happening? Are they drunk? Is it fake? What do I do in a situation like this? I should call the police as discreetly as possible.

As soon as I take my phone out, I flinch as the aggressor is already in front of me, squatting.

"Don't bother calling for help. I was after him, not you." He motions his head to his victim, who is lying on the floor, completely still.

"...You killed him,"

"I didn't. Just knocked him out. I'll call the police to take him away,"

"Why?"

"He almost killed my family," His blue eyes fill with anger. I fall silent. It's better not to say anything - I don't want to provoke this man. Hesitantly, I put my phone away. I want to return home unharmed.

He stands upright, moving his long red hair away from his face. Is he really that tall, or is it because I'm on the ground? Conforming, I stand and dust my clothes. Yep, it's not me - he's still really tall. Maybe he won't notice me if I make a run for it.

"Halt," he demands as I turn around. Gulping, I face him. "What are you doing out here so late?"

"Erm, I was coming home from work,"

"Where do you work?"

"The club over there, Dizzying Daydreams,"

"You work there? Do you think I can speak with the owner?"

"I… I am the owner,"

His mouth curves upwards in a smirk. I shiver, not knowing what to make of the situation. Does he plan on choking me like he choked that man just now? Or worse?

"Why do you want to speak with me?" I try masking my fear, but my voice betrays me.

"Relax. I don't plan on harming you. I just want to talk, Samantha Walker." He holds his hands up, showing me he's unarmed. He knows my name. That's terrifying. "How far away is your house from here?"

"Erm, not far,"

"Lead the way,"

"What?"

"I said lead the way." I glance at him - he's serious about this. I ponder the decision I'm about to make. I mean, I have some means of protection at home, and I know the basics of self-defence. But he has the capability of choking a man until he's unconscious. I guess I'm about to find out if I am capable as well if need be.

Cautiously, I turn around and continue my way home. The feeling of trepidation does not leave me, even as I approach the familiar door of my home.

"You live here?" The man asks, disgusted.

"Yes," I sound offended, even though I know this place is shit.

"For the owner of such a prestigious club, I expected you to live in a nicer place,"

"Well, I do invest a lot in the business. It's my life." I shakily unlock the door, afraid of what he wants to talk to me about.

Upon entering, I turn around to keep my eye on the man. I will not let my guard down. He throws himself on the sofa as if he owned the place. I remain standing up.

"What's your name?" I ask, getting straight to the point.

"Noah Harris,"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He's the reason I'm living in this shithole, hiding. He's the reason I struggled so damn hard with my business. Now, this cunt is in MY house, sitting down as if it were HIS house.

Anger bubbles within me. I clench my fists to stop myself from lashing out. A fake smile spreads across my face. I don't want him to know I've been hiding from him. I don't want him to become suspicious of me. I just want to hear him out so I can call the police.

I just realized, if I call the police and they arrest him, I will be free of him and will be able to expand my business without fearing his rival company. Yes, that's a good idea. I'm tired of hiding from him. He should be the one hiding from me.

The silence is awkward. I'd better say something. I take a deep breath, before plucking up the courage to initiate a conversation with my enemy.

"Oh, Noah. I've heard so much about you in the news!" Out of everything, I choose to say this?

"Is that so?" Noah asks, resting his head on his hand, smirking. My mouth twitches.

"Yep. You're very famous. You're the majority of what the news talks about,"

"But of course. Everyone loves knowing about successful people rather than important stuff that actually matters." He becomes serious. I don't know what to do with myself, so I just agree.

"So, why did you want to speak with me?" I rub a nervous hand behind my neck, getting straight to the point. He adjusts his position on the sofa before talking.

"I want to make a deal with you,"