The white devil

Quinn, "Huh??"

"Mmm, try this. It tastes really good. It's called pink nipple Hehehe," she said changing the subject quickly.

Quinn wanted to go back to that subject but after taking a long and hard sip she forgot about it. The drinks flowed like it was the end of the world pumping up these two drunk chicks who took a trip to the scumbag ex boyfriend's mansion that is after raiding a gas station store on the way.

These are the exact events that led to this tragic situation. Instead of busting the windows out of the slag man's cars, they got caught and Alison actually hugged the man's thigh balling her eyes out begging for a chance.

Not only that but this so-called 'ex boyfriend', note the quotes, was one of the world's richest men globally. It was rumoured that the extent of his wealth was simply an estimate because underneath the surface he was still an underworld boss.

Before her grandfather died the word 'white devil' never left his lips. It was the name that sparked fear among the members of the Overseer's Concord, an organisation of which all crime bosses were a part of, with rules and regulations on the principles of operating illegal businesses. Not many knew but she knew that this man right here was no freaking saint.

He was the most sought after bachelor with plenty of women and men alike worshipping at his feet. By day he was an overbearing CEO and by night he would turn into the white devil. And guess what? She had just messed with him.

Images of what this man was capable of flashed in Quinn's mind as she tossed and turned stuck within this nightmare.

With a start, she woke up checking if she still had all her ten fingers. She tried to pull her hands but she soon realised that her wrists were bound behind her with a zip tie.

"Ah, shit," she swore trying to pull her wrists apart her movements vigorous. Because she was too enthusiastic she began to move with the chair making irritating screeching sounds as the legs scraped the floor.

"Hey! Hey! Get these things off me. It's illegal… this is kidnapping," she yelled but it was to no avail. Like a person with multiple personality disorder, she changed from the pouting sweet girl begging for mercy to a 'get me out of here or I will burn your shit down' type of captive.

"I say. How long do you think it will take her to get out of those?" asked a young skinny youth as he sat down crossing his legs at the knees with a lit cigarette in between his fingers.

The woman from earlier snorted coldly as she tied up her blonde hair. The young man almost choked on the smoke as he stared with a raised brow.

"*cough *cough *cough," he let it all out before a slight quirk appeared at the corner of her lips, "That, Quinn Regal… the legendary dark witch that brought nightmares to anyone who met her."

The woman named Freya rubbed her neck covered in artistic tattoos before saying, "The underlying word here is a legend. Look at her she looks like those washed-out corporate slaves."

The young man named Lars chuckled while saying, "Come on, you want to bet how long it will take for her to cut herself loose?"

Freya laughed while taking out some money but before they could place their bets a tall figure walked into the room and said, "No need, she has already cut her restraints," before pressing his fingerprints on the keypad opening the door.

When Quinn heard the high pitched click sound of the fingerprint reader at the door she immediately turned weak and docile like a wounded animal intending to reduce the other person's vigilance. Unfortunately, she was facing off with a veteran and someone who knew her like the back of his hand.

The tall man took off his suit jacket and partially folded it before placing it on the couch next to him his aura unpleasantly overpowering. He carefully rolled the sleeves of his shirt revealing a pair of strong arms that could arouse anyone's curiosity. They were toned but not brawny and muscular not in an off-putting way.

"You can stop pretending. I know you are awake," he said his voice low and rough in an attractive way as he sat opposite her.

Quinn felt his ears itch from that voice burrowing into her ears. Yes, she liked deep low voices just like any other girl and would turn on the radio to listen to some talk show host, not for the content but the voice.

Even then she could still keep a calm demeanour. The man was as rumoured and even more. He had the charm of a thousand and a face that could make gods envious. Handsome as he may be this person was a viper, if not the king of all vipers and she would very much want to stay away from him as far as possible.

She calmly took out her already free hands astonishing the two people who had been watching her through the two-way mirror. "When did she…..," muttered Lars pointing at Quinn through the glass.

Freya's brows creased glowering at Quinn her expression complicated. Just who was this Quinn girl and how come she had never heard of her in her (Freya's) circle?

Back in the room, Quinn apologized sincerely. She had lived an honest quiet life for the past few years and all it took were a couple of drinks with Alison to ruin everything. She had trespassed on this man's property and had to accept the consequences of her actions.

"Mr… sir, I was wrong. I shouldn't have trepas-," she said only for the person to interject as he sat down opposite her his attitude cheeky and nonchalant.

"She is not my girlfriend… she isn't even my ex either. She has been stalking me for months pursuing me so her parents restrained her but I guess she escaped and found you to help her enter my private property so she can see me," he said and Quinn's expression sank hearing this.