*WRITING AND EDITING*
Warning ⚠️ this book contains adult themes and violence. Read at your own risk.
~ Hardin Scott Fan-Fiction ~
Hardin Scott is the ruthless son of a well known London mobster. With his teeth bore and his guard up will he be able...
(Song- I'll Make You Love Me by Kat Leon) ———— Hardin's POV
I watch as my feet glide across the glossy hardwood floor. Seeing my scuffed boots beside the polished pointer shoes of men of 'upper class' makes me want to strangle Bruce and then myself. Why would he let such stuck up, snobby people come here?
Sure, with the dim lights and the smell of liquor the bar looks 'aesthetic' and shit but that doesn't excuse the rest of the fucked up things that are wrong with the place. Everyone is just so full of themselves that they have not taken the time to notice all the little things. I bet there is fucking mice in here.
As long as business is good and I get my money then everything should be fine..
Whilst I wait on Bruce to finish with a customer I stand by the bar and let my head droop down towards the counter top. I take on board the multiple initials that have been carefully carved into the aged wood of the counter by young hooligans. A small smile ghosts my face. I used to be like those teenagers. Roaming the streets and illegally sitting in clubs and bars whilst one of us fucked the bar tender. I shudder at the thought of being so careless in my youth.
"Hardin?" Bruce speaks out with a seriousness to his voice. Finally. My ears perk up and I lazily drag my gaze from the counter to meet his face.
"The money, Bruce." I seethe as I warn him, letting him know that I am in no mood for his shit. My hands find my pockets as I desperately try to expand my shrinking patience.
My muscles begin to tense and my teeth grind together as I feel my stomach twist. I need a drink. I've been stressed from the moment I opened my fucking eyes this morning.
Just before my agitation gets the best of me a loud ring of interference booms from the mic on the stage and ricochets off of all the hollow walls of the bar, forcefully grabbing my attention. My hand flies towards my belt where my gun is hidden beneath my jacket.
My eyes frantically find the stage as I prepare myself for whatever might come. However instead of pulling my gun out to start firing I oddly feel my chest tickle as it flutters and my jeans become uncomfortably tight. There she is. What a fucking beauty.
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"Uhm." She utters into the mic, "Hello everyone. My name is Ivory and I will be playing for you all tonight." Nervousness is evident in her voice as she tumbles over her words. Her tongue darts out to wet her plump lips.
Erotic thoughts swirl through my mind as I notice how tight her tits appear in the dress she is wearing. Each of her curves are inched in perfectly and I just can't help the small, inaudible groan that leaves my throat. Fuck, she looks fucking amazing.
She squints up at the warm light that is centred on her body, her eyes glitter with each beautiful shade of blue that is flecked in her irises and her blonde hair is effortlessly wavy..
