Alex

Chapter One

Rosie

How did I go from teaching little fourth graders to filling up an application as a waitress? Not just any waitress, but a waitress at a club owned by them. No one knew where they came from or how they even reached our town, but they were quick to take over the entire town.

Their name and faces and names were everywhere, bikers, motorcycles, too many tattoos, and weapons. They rampaged through the town, revving their engines, swearing, drinking too loudly, and taking over the small, populated town.

The sheriffs, mayors, and half the too-small population were in love with them or under their thumb. I don't know. You couldn't know. You couldn't know if they had something on them or if they killed anyone who tried to protest.

Willington was a small town, we weren't even on the map, and barely a place tourists stopped by, but we did well for ourselves.

We had a good thing going for us before they came and of course, the first thing they did was tear down the school. I remember crying, and sobbing, as the machinery came and broke it down. I've been a teacher there for years and I loved teaching, being there for my students, and helping the children.

It was what I had. It was all I knew. My hands were shaking from anger and fear as I finished my application. The restaurant slash bar was beautiful and clean, but I was too angry to give them compliments or appreciate the architecture.

They didn't deserve the praise or compliments for what they did, for tearing down that school, for ridding everyone of their jobs, and for doing so without blinking an eye. They were horrible people.

I could see other women applying, beautiful women that I'd see in shops around town, and it was sad to see that they had gone from elegant clothing to ripped jeans or revealing clothing. I'd never sell myself short, and if they didn't hire me here, I'd go right back out there and look. The thing is...they owned the town.

They owned every building, every scrap of land, and every store, restaurant, bar, café, and much, much more. I needed this job. My father was sick, and I was the only person taking care of him.

He needed me and the money I made as a teacher barely paid the bills, but it was enough to buy his medicine. The two wooden benches of women began to slowly lessen as the office door opened and shut.

I noticed each woman walking out crying or with a look of murder on her face as they stomped out. The man who owned this specific restaurant was Alex Grayson.

Alex Grayson was as brutal if not more than any other of the Grayson family members. He was ruthless, degrading, and humiliating, and though I've only had a few encounters with him, I believed he was the Devil. Alex didn't care if you were dying in front of him.

He'd walk over your dead body and complain about the trouble he had with lifting his foot over your body. Some of the townspeople thought they were some mafia, gang, mob type of group, and even though you could speculate a hundred million types of reasons, you really never knew anything.

The Graysons were quiet, low-key, and secretive. The door swung open, and my name was called just as a younger female ran out crying. I swallowed, smoothed my hand down my skirt, and walked inside.

The man sitting on the other side could have been Lucifer with how evil he looked. He was wrapped in an all-black suit, expensive, maybe even Italian, with how detailed and perfect it seemed. No tie or bowtie.

He left the two buttons on the top undone and I could see some ink there, but it was too far for me to fully make anything out. A heavy stubble took place over his face, and a thick mustache over his lips.