"Hey!" I cried out, my voice echoing through the busy streets as I found myself violently shoved. I stumbled, struggling to regain my balance, and ended up falling hard on my ass on the unforgiving stone-paved sidewalk. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" I yelled, anger coursing through my veins.
A cold, chilling voice growled from above me, sending a shiver down my spine. "Are you trying to steal from me, boy?" it questioned, dripping with disdain.
I looked up from checking my bruised elbows, meeting the gaze of the coldest hazel eyes I had ever seen. "Steal from you?!" I replied, my voice laced with disbelief. The audacity of this jerk. "You ran into me and shoved me, you jerk!" I enunciated, emphasizing each word for the clueless imbecile.
"Hey, watch your mouth!" one of the men accompanying the jerk interjected, taking a menacing step toward me. He had an earpiece, the kind worn by security operatives, suggesting he was some sort of bodyguard.
"I am going to sue your asses!" I blurted out, realizing immediately that it was an empty threat. I couldn't afford a lawyer, but sometimes bluffing could rattle people. The guy paused, his eyes narrowing as he glowered at me.
"Really?" the jerk who shoved me drawled in a slow, taunting manner, raising an eyebrow in an exotically daring way that momentarily captivated me. He was as handsome as the Duke of Hastings from the regency series Bridgerton and just as arrogant, I presumed. Unfazed by my threat, he exuded an air of wealth and entitlement that annoyed me to no end. Rich people always seemed to believe they could get away with anything, and it grated my nerves.
"Darling, let's go. He's probably just some poor hippie looking for scraps," a velvety female voice chimed in, drawing my glare toward the redhead clinging to the jerk like a leech. You know the type—those insecure Bambies who try to send women back to the 1900s.
"Boss, your wallet," a hefty man beside the jerk picked up a leather wallet from the ground and handed it over. It must have fallen when the idiot ran into me, and he must have assumed I was trying to steal it.
"Give it to him," the jerk instructed, still assessing me with his cold gaze.
"Boss?" the hefty man hesitated, confusion evident in his eyes.
"Give it to him. Let him give it to me with an apology!" the jerk snapped impatiently.
"You've got to be kidding me!" I exclaimed, unable to believe the audacity of this situation. I had encountered my fair share of rich assholes while working multiple jobs since the age of ten. By thirteen, I was already waiting tables, dealing with jerks like this guy as part of the downside of being a waitress. But none had stooped as low as this ass in front of me.
"Get up, boy!" he snarled, reaching for my forearm and yanking me up roughly. I struggled against his grip, causing my face cap to slip off, my hair cascading down my shoulders to frame my face. The jerk blinked, startled backward.
"Dear lord, it's a girl! Is this how street urchins rob these days?" Bambi gasped in horror, almost making me roll my eyes.
The jerk, whom I mentally dubbed "Jerkface," narrowed his eyes at me. "What exactly is your mission?" he demanded.
"Dude, I'm coming from evening classes, got distracted by a yell across the street, and the next thing I know, you slammed me to the ground. Tell your... associate to let go of my hand so I can get my bag!" I retorted, frustration boiling within me.
"Get the bag," Jerkface ordered one of his lanky minions, gesturing toward my fallen backpack a few feet away. I silently prayed that my phone hadn't been damaged. Today would be a disaster if it were—I had saved up for weeks to buy it. The lanky minion picked up my bag and tried to open it.
"Hey! What the fuck! You can't open my bag! Who the hell do you think you are?!" I exclaimed, my anger escalating.
Jerkface chuckled, the sound devoid of any warmth or humor. "You want me to believe that you don't know who I am?"
"Trust me, pal, I couldn't care less. I just want my bag and for you and your... Bambi to get out of my face!"
"Hey! Watch it! Who the hell is this little shit?" Bambi fired back, clearly offended. I was surprised she understood the meaning well enough to be insulted, but if the shoe fits...
Jerkface, however, remained unfazed by Bambi's outburst. He observed me quietly before snatching the bag from the lanky minion and ignoring my furious growl as he rummaged through its contents.
"Are you some kind of med student?" he asked, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes, while a cruel twist formed on the corner of his lips. This guy was a psychopath.
"Chemical Engineer student, not that it's any of your concern. Now, may I have my bag back, please?" I retorted, my patience wearing thin.
"Okay, after you apologize," he said, the glint in his eyes growing more pronounced, his lips curling into a smug smile. I thought he was absolutely insufferable.
"This isn't happening," I groaned, realizing the absurdity of the situation. "What are you, ten years old? You ran into me!"
"Not the way I see it. I see a rude, young lady dressed as a boy attempting to steal from me and failing, and now making up stories."
"I could prove to you that I'm great with chemicals... How would you like me to blow up your car, sir?" I threatened in a honeyed tone, giving him a wide smile and trying not to be affected by the change of emotions in his arresting eyes.
"The mouth on this homeless-looking bitch," Bambi snapped, her irritation evident. "Why are we wasting time with this nobody?" she questioned. While I agreed with her logic, I couldn't help but feel offended by being labeled as homeless, even though it wasn't far from the truth.
"An apology, then you can have your bag back," Jerkface insisted, opening the back door of a luxurious Bentley and carelessly tossing my bag inside.
"What are you doing?!" I cried out in disbelief, my frustration reaching its peak.
"Apologize," he demanded. I let out a low growl, calculating the value of the books, wallet, and phone inside my bag, and how long it would take me to replace them if I simply walked away.
"I would rather choke on a pile of nails!" I growled, surprising even myself. I had worked tirelessly to obtain everything in that bag. "Bloody hell, Adele!" I admonished myself silently.
"That's what I thought," Jerkface said with smug satisfaction, turning to walk away. On impulse, I reached out to grab him, but one of his lanky minions held me back. Jerkface turned back to face me, a maddening smirk playing on his lips.
"I'm going to call the cops!" I yelled up at him, my voice laced with frustration and anger.
"Please, be my guest. It should be interesting," he taunted, placing a hand on Bambi's back and ushering her into the club. The lanky minion followed suit, leaving me behind on the sidewalk.
"Argh! You fucking... arse!" I unleashed a guttural growl, my anger boiling over. "You have no idea what I'm capable of... you do not want to cross me, sir!" I paused, my empty threats hanging in the air as realization struck me. The car was unattended. A slow, devilish smile stretched across my face. "Homeless, huh? I'll show you just how street-smart this urchin can be," I muttered to myself.
A few minutes later, I strode purposefully down the sidewalk, my backpack securely on my shoulders. A devilish smirk remained plastered on my face as I rounded the corner and continued walking. It was a few blocks away when a deafening explosion rocked the neighborhood, followed by the sound of gunshots. I instinctively hugged my back to the recess in the sidewall, listening as chaos erupted.
"What the hell?!" I muttered, my heart racing with a mix of fear and adrenaline.
Chapter Two: Archer – 8:50 P.M. Illicit Liaison & Chaos
I must admit, I thoroughly enjoyed that episode. The boy/girl was quite an intriguing character. No one has ever dared to speak to me like that before. It may seem odd, but her boldness was a pleasant surprise. I couldn't determine who ran into whom between the two of us, but as Victor Donovan's heir, I always have to be on alert, as death could be imminent. My initial thought was that she might be a daring thief, but that seemed unlikely in this part of town. This was my territory, and almost everyone here knew who I was.
"Trust me, pal, I couldn't care less. I just want my bag and for you and your... Bambi to get out of my face!" Her voice resonated in my head, and a smirk formed on my lips. I didn't believe for a second that she didn't recognize me, but I had a knack for spotting lies. It was a survival skill I acquired in my position, and the lighthearted way she said it made me consider the possibility that she might be telling the truth, or she could be an exceptional actress. There was a certain idealistic innocence about her that piqued my interest. It was a rare trait I seldom encountered. And she was beautiful, almost angelic. However, I couldn't help but wonder why she was dressed like a boy. Was she in some sort of trouble?
I thought about asking Ajax, one of my men, to return her bag, but that would mean letting her slip away, and I might not have another chance to see her, which was a disturbing thought. I couldn't fathom why I couldn't simply do as Sandra asked and let the infuriating imp go on her way. I had far more important matters to deal with at the moment, and a seemingly intriguing personality of a child shouldn't be a distraction.
I forced myself to focus on my date for the night, determined to enjoy myself despite the looming threat of retaliation from the Bernard Kuklinski family. Someone had tipped off the authorities about their recent contraband shipments, causing them to lose trillions. Naturally, since we shared the same region, they assumed it was our doing and sent a clear message to my father by blowing up one of his ships. I advised my father not to react, but rather let Bernard Kuklinski know that he was barking up the wrong tree.
I always advocated for restraint before taking action, as rushing into things would leave no one standing when I strike. My father believed it wise to lay low for a while, a piece of advice I took to heart. However, that was two weeks ago, and now I was done waiting. I called Sandra, informing her that I would be picking her up. Sandra was the daughter of Senator Isaac Blackwell, and I chose her as my date for the night for that reason. Her attractiveness was merely an added advantage. Sandra had wanted to sleep with me for a while, but I respectfully declined, not wanting any drama with her father when I inevitably grew tired of her. I grew up in a family so dysfunctional that it would make any psychologist's head spin. I was messed up to the point where women didn't hold a significant place in my life. Hence, I only dated for one purpose—to satisfy my physical desires. I don't do relationships. I hate labels, and I most definitely do not date a woman for more than a month. Women are liabilities I can not afford.
I have been to this nightclub countless times. It was one of my family's businesses, and the bouncer at the door welcomed me and Sandra with a smile. He ushered us past the velvet rope and held open the double doors for us to enter.
Confidently, I strode into the popular nightclub, the pulsating music resonating through my body. The interior of the club was extravagant, adorned with sleek black leather couches and a massive crystal chandelier hanging overhead. Mirrors lined the walls, reflecting the vibrant strobe lights and adding to the opulent ambiance. The club was as crowded as ever, with people packed on the dance floor, moving to the loud music.
"Follow me," I murmured close to Sandra's ear, leading her to my favorite VIP section. The club manager, Luke, appeared in front of us, wearing a broad grin.
"Archer, my man! Good to see you," he exclaimed, gesturing with his hands.
"Hmm..." I replied, nodding as I guided Sandra into the private booth and gestured for her to sit. I waited for her to settle down before taking a seat beside her.
"Your usual, I presume?"
"Sure... Do you want something special, beautiful?" I asked. Sandra gave me a dazzling smile, a hint of surprise flickering in her eyes at the endearment, a calculated move on my part.
"I'll have Dom Perignon Champagne," she said, teasingly. I nodded at Luke, signaling for him to leave.
"Champagne?" I raised an eyebrow. "Did I miss something? Is today your birthday?" I added playfully.
"No, silly. Just to celebrate the start of something fun and fiery with you," she replied. Poor thing, she thought this was real. Before I could respond, she leaned in to kiss the corner of my lips, and her hand boldly caressed the bulge in my pants. I parted my legs to give her more access, pleasantly surprised to find that she wore no panties. 'Oh, naughty you, Miss Sandra Blackwell,' I thought to myself as I slid my hand between her thighs, gently teasing her opening with my thumb. She moaned, and I slipped a finger inside her.
When she arched her back, I used my free hand to retrieve a condom, tearing it open and quickly putting it on. Without interrupting our kiss, I guided her to straddle me, and she eagerly impaled herself on me. With one hand gripping her ass, I began to thrust as she rode me. I took one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking on it, driving her into a frenzy. Her moans grew louder, and I had to cover her mouth with my hand to muffle the sound while I continued to thrust into her.
Luke returned with our orders, accompanied by two waitresses. Sandra froze as Luke placed an expensive bottle of scotch on the table, followed by the waitresses setting out glass cups, finger foods, and Sandra's order.
"Hey, focus on me," I whispered against her lips, holding her hips and guiding her movements on top of me. Even in the dimly lit space, I could tell she was extremely uncomfortable, but I didn't care. She clearly didn't know me well. I don't adhere to any rules; I make my own. These people were my employees, and I paid them to see and hear only what I wanted them to. What did she think she was getting into? I am Archer Donovan.
She tried to dismount and pull up her dress to cover her breasts, but I didn't allow it. I latched onto one of her nipples with my mouth, giving it a playful bite, while raising her and thrusting into her with a long stroke. She wrapped her arms around my neck, burying her face in the crook of my neck and letting out a muffled moan. I continued until she climaxed, then focused on my release, pulsing inside her as I buried my face in her chest to catch my breath.
"I can't believe we just did that," Sandra whispered breathlessly.
"Have you never done anything like this before?" I inquired.
"Have sex with onlookers... No!"
"Shame. Now you can check that off your bucket list," I said, winking at her. She giggled hesitantly. I maintained eye contact as I slowly kissed her lips, then lowered my mouth to her nipples, sucking on them.
"Archer!" she moaned.
"We'll continue this later," I said, giving her nipple a playful bite before handing her a handkerchief. She lowered her gaze, accepting it, and I carried her off of me, placing her back on the seat with a playful smack on her ass. I retrieved another handkerchief to clean myself up and zip up, discarding the used condom and the fabric in a nearby trash can. I poured myself a drink and another for Sandra. She took a shot and excused herself to go to the restroom.
Just as Sandra left, Luke reentered the booth, carrying on as if he didn't just see me fucking my date.
"Hey, Archer, your friend Mark is already here. He's out back. Should I fetch him?" Luke asked.
"Sure," I said, leaning back in the plush leather seat, feeling a bit weightless after that unexpected release. I took a sip of my drink.
It wasn't long before Mark carefully peered inside the private booth before striding inside to stand by the low table. His black hair was cut military-style, and his dark eyes surveyed the glass enclosure with a calculated gaze.
"You're late. What happened?" Mark said. I offered him a hand for a handshake and he deliberately pocketed his hands, giving me a pointed look. I chuckled and picked up my glass cup.
"You are an arsehole," I said fondly.
He shrugged, and replied, "I'm not shaking your hand, Archer, why were you late?"
I laughed and sat back. "Nothing much. Just got a little distracted at the entrance," I replied, recalling the encounter with the girl and wondering about her absence.
Sandra returned from the restroom, and I introduced Mark to her as a friend. Mark gave her a curt nod. To Sandra Blackwell, and the public, I was a wealthy businessman with various investments, but there was a hidden side to the Donovan empire that regular folks merely speculate about but people in power like Sandra's father know the full extent of the power my family wields. But I doubted he had informed his daughter. Or perhaps she does know what I am, and like some females lured by the thought of a dangerous liaison until I take off the mask.
Sandra attempted to engage Mark in conversation, oblivious to his withdrawn demeanor and his frequent glances in my direction. It either meant she was trying hard to impress me or she lacked awareness. As more of my friends arrived, the VIP section filled with laughter and noise.
However, our relaxation was abruptly shattered as an earth-shattering explosion rocked the building, causing glasses and bottles to rattle on the table. Panic ensued as gunshots echoed through the enclosed space.
"Boss, we need to leave!" Ajax, one of my bodyguards, rushed to the table, panting.
"What's happening?" I demanded my senses on high alert.
"Unknown assailants, boss. They're attacking the club," Ajax replied urgently.
"What?!" Sandra asked, her voice filled with panic. Ajax, Mark, Ken, and Andrew swiftly rose from their seats, aligning themselves behind me. Sandra's hand trembled in mine as I contemplated whether or not it was safe to have her by my side. Perhaps it was better to let her find her way out, but that would require an explanation I wasn't prepared to give. I'd rather appear like a heartless jerk who abandoned his date, but Sandra wasn't just anyone—she was a senator's daughter. Ajax and two of my men took positions to flank us, providing additional protection as we maneuvered through the chaos toward the exit.
Just as we neared the door, a barrage of bullets tore through our group, forcing us to seek cover behind a nearby wall. I did my best to shield Sandra from harm; I couldn't afford her dying on my watch. It took a moment for the adrenaline to subside before I realized I had been hit. A sharp, intense pain radiated from my left thigh and side. Damn! Blood trickled down, staining my clothes. "We need to get out of here," I shouted, struggling to be heard over the deafening gunfire. "Now!" I growled, urgency seeping into my voice.