The club pulsed with life, far too alive for the hour.
Dim lights bled into velvet shadows, music thumping low and steady beneath the hum of voices, laughter, and the occasional sharp clink of glass. Women moved with confidence across the floor, heels clicking, hips swaying, eyes scanning for the next man willing to spend.
To anyone else, it was indulgence.
To men like this, it was business.
In a private section above the main floor, separated by tinted glass, sat the man who owned it all.
Victor Hale.
Mid-forties. Controlled. Expensive without trying. The kind of man who didn't raise his voice, because he never needed to.
He watched everything.
And right now, his attention was locked on Nolan.
"This wasn't the agreement," Victor said, voice calm but edged with steel.
Nolan leaned back in his chair, a glass of whiskey in hand, completely at ease despite the tension. "I know."
Victor's eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you?"
A dancer brushed past Nolan, her fingers grazing his shoulder. This time, he caught her wrist lightly, pulling her just close enough to press a folded bill into her palm before letting her go. She smiled, slow and practiced, before disappearing back into the lights.
"The Bitch is proving difficult," Nolan said, taking a slow sip. "That's all."
Victor's jaw tightened, just slightly. "Difficult doesn't mean sloppy."
Below them, the bass thudded harder, laughter rising from a group of men throwing money like it meant nothing.
Victor leaned forward now, resting his elbows on the table. "You remember how this works, don't you?"
Nolan's smirk returned, faint but present.
Of course he remembered.
Years ago, before the money, before the suits, Victor Hale had been cornered. Wrong place, wrong deal, wrong people. It would have ended there… if Nolan hadn't stepped in.
Quick thinking. He had saved Victor's life.
And Victor never forgot debts.
Since then, they had been… partners.
Victor provided the money. The influence. The doors that didn't open for ordinary men.
Nolan handled the things Victor preferred to stay distant from.
But there had always been one rule.
Victor's voice dropped slightly. "No police. No uniforms. Ever."
Nolan nodded once. "I know the rule."
"Then why am I hearing your mess is brushing too close to one?" Victor asked, sharper now.
Nolan's fingers tapped lightly against his glass.
"If this touches the police," Victor continued, "I cut you off. Completely. No money. No backing. You disappear on your own."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Nolan smiled.
Relaxed. Confident. Dangerous.
"Relax," he said. "It won't get that far."
Victor didn't smile back. "You don't know that."
Nolan leaned forward slightly now, his voice lowering, controlled. "I do."
Victor's gaze hardened. "Explain."
Nolan tilted his head, eyes glinting. "Because by the time they start asking the right questions…"
He paused, swirling his drink slowly.
"I'll already have what I want."
Victor's expression didn't change, but his attention sharpened. "The properties."
Nolan nodded.
"She signs them over," he said calmly, "and this all ends quietly."
"And if she doesn't?"
For the first time, something darker flickered in Nolan's eyes.
"She will."
Victor studied him for a long moment, then leaned back, exhaling slowly. "You're pushing this."
Nolan shrugged lightly. "Opportunity doesn't wait."
Victor's voice turned cold. "Neither do consequences."
Nolan's lips curved again, that same unsettling confidence settling back into place.
"Then it's a good thing," he said, setting his glass down with a soft clink,
"I always have an alibi."
Victor's gaze lingered on him, unreadable.
Below them, the music swelled. A woman spun around a pole, the crowd erupting in cheers as bills rained down. Another slid into a booth with a group of men, laughter spilling over the music.
Nolan leaned back again, signaling lazily. A waitress appeared almost instantly, placing another glass in front of him before slipping away.
Victor picked up his drink, studying Nolan over the rim. "You're a greedy boy."
Nolan let out a low chuckle, lifting his glass. "I learnt from the best."
Their glasses clinked softly,
A quiet agreement!!
***
Stacy POV:
Stacy weaved through the crowded mall, eyes glued to her tablet, scrolling through her shopping list. Ice cream, chocolate, a few energy bars, anything to keep her alert during the long day ahead. She barely noticed the people around her, sidestepping shoppers with a quick brush of her shoulder.
Suddenly, she bumped into someone.
"Sorry," she muttered automatically, not looking up, still focused on her screen.
A firm hand caught her wrist, stopping her movement.
She finally looked up, and froze.
It was him.
Her face flared, heat rising instantly.
"It's… you," she muttered, her voice a mixture of surprise and irritation.
Julian smirked, leaning slightly closer, clearly enjoying the reaction. "Hey, didn't expect to run into you here."
Stacy jerked her wrist back subtly, her glare sharp. "Well, congratulations, you did. Can I go now?"
Julian chuckled, the kind of grin that promised he wasn't going anywhere fast
"Are you always glued to your tab?" Julian asked, leaning just a little closer, a teasing edge in his voice.
"If you must know," Stacy shot back, her patience thinning, "some of us actually have work to do."
"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at his lips.
"Yes. Now move." She tugged her wrist gently, trying to free herself, her glare sharp.
Julian chuckled softly, clearly entertained by her attitude. "Alright, alright… no need to be so hostile."
Stacy rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as she stepped around him, clearly intent on keeping her focus on her shopping list, and her sanity.
Stacy hurried down the next aisle, hoping Julian wouldn't follow. She clutched her tablet and her small shopping bag, determined to focus on her ice cream and chocolate haul.
But of course… he was there.
"Hey, slow down! You're going too fast for me to keep up," Julian called, jogging slightly to catch her.
Stacy spun around, her patience snapping. "I told you, I don't have time for this!"
Julian held up his hands in mock surrender, grinning. "Relax, I'm not here to bother you… much."
She glared, muttering, "You're the 'much.'"
Before she could step past, Julian moved just enough to block her path. Stacy groaned, exasperated, and tried to sidestep him, but he mirrored her movement, like some annoying shadow.
"You know," he said, leaning closer, "you could smile once in a while. Makes life easier for the rest of us."
Stacy's cheeks flared—not with happiness, but with sheer irritation. "Or… you could mind your own business!"
Julian laughed, that teasing, lighthearted sound that somehow grated on her nerves. "Ouch. Tough crowd. I'll take that as a challenge."
Stacy huffed and finally stormed past him, muttering under her breath about "annoying men in malls," while Julian followed just long enough to toss a playful wink over his shoulder before letting her go.
Julian's eyes didn't leave Stacy as she hurried down the aisle, tablet clutched tightly, her focus split between her shopping and keeping him at bay.
"Dude," a familiar voice called from behind him, cutting through Julian's reverie.
He turned slightly to see August strolling up, hands casually in his pockets, an amused smirk on his face. "You said you were hungry. Grab something already."
Julian glanced back at Stacy, then shrugged nonchalantly. "I… I'll get something in a minute," he said, his attention still glued to her.