The Boss

Chapter 3

The awesome book cover was made by her!

Chapter 3    

Zador was not pleased with the deal, and his inner beast was not at all happy. Still, he had agreed...for some mysterious reason. An instinct he had just had. Zador knew better than to go against his instincts. So when the man pleaded for his release in exchange for his daughter, Zador actually spent a minute pondering over the offer, while the man, Robert, lay writhing on the floor, at the mercy of the club’s large bouncers.  

Zador didn’t know how it happened, had no fuc***g clue why he agreed, but he did and the deal was done. Being the man he was, enjoying the things that he did, he still had enough mind to stay true to a deal. It was not going to harm him in any way, nor would it benefit him. He had all the women he needed to satisfy him, there was no need for a teacher. A teacher. A woman who had a mind and thought for herself. Zador hated women like them. They were sly and knew their way around men. Another piece to the question of why he agreed. A teacher’s wage wasn’t about to buy him paradise; his club earned a hundred times more in one night. But then again, he wouldn’t dominate the night if he earned a teacher’s salary. The thought was almost funny enough to set his sides aching.  

Yeah right. There was nothing funny about the situation. What the hell was wrong with him? He was playing mister sarcastic man with himself. Showed how pathetic his life was. He was talking to himself. What a loner. That would surely have his opposing club owners in stitches. They would laugh in his face if he didn’t intimidate them. The rumours of his little habit were more exaggerated in the ears of all theses pathetic people. The pathetic people he lived off.  

Sighing, Zador got off his chair. It could be that his sitting too long in one place was driving him nuts. It wasn’t like he had much to do except make deals with the biggest drug Lords, which he did over the phone, count the money and sort out the wages, which he did sitting in the very same chair he used for the phone calls and reading books. It could have surprised a lot of people to know that he read, and enjoyed it too. There was a lot of information on those thin papers. It was true that the ink on those papers held more knowledge than the local priest. And that old geezer claimed he knew a lot. Zador knew that the man was just trying to get a little fame and money in the name of religion. A lot of people these days did that. Too bad nobody cared about them. People loved the dirty and daring things in life these days. His club was proof of that.  

Making his way over to his large bookshelf, rather bookshelves, Zador scanned the spines of the many novels and encyclopaedias. There was no pattern to their order, nor was there any certain genre that he had limited himself to. All kinds of books rested on his shelves and he was proud in his large collection. It was most unbefitting of his coarse nature.  

Not finding a book to his liking, Zador decided on a walk. Enclosing himself into one room did him no good. He needed exercise.  

As he exited his study, he could not help but notice how quiet it was. This very place was going to get loud and dirty this very night. Thanks to the cleaning crew, that came every day, the club was spic and span, but it would not take long to dirty it.  

The line at the entrance at the club started forming way ahead of its time and the place was crowded in a blink of an eye. When so many people gathered at one place, majority of them wild youths and delinquents, then there was sure to be a mess.  

Zador was not, and had never been the socialising type, nor had he ever suited the word gentleman. But he had always partied. And no matter what time or era it had been, his parties had always hit it with the crowds. He had lived a long life. And a very cursed one too; desiring violence, blood, sweat, and occasionally letting his masculine desires take over. It had not been fun, but it had been eventful.  

Zador let himself out of the back door, used only by him and his faithful bouncers. That reminded him. Hank and Kane were off kidnapping his deal. She should have been here some time ago. He had to stay in to welcome the lady into his den. He had no idea how he was supposed to do that or what he was supposed to do with her. He had never, in his life, kept a female companion. They were too inferior to be bothered with and they were nothing better than toys. So how was he meant to keep a woman who he knew nothing about? How had he gotten himself into this shit?  

The fresh breeze in the air – more like a tugging wind – pulled at his hair, stinging his scalp. Zador shivered and the beast stirred, glad to be let out. The breeze was refreshing. Zador breathed it in, before digging in his pockets for a cigarette. He needed to smoke. The beast wouldn’t like that. He hated the smoke. Loathed it. It didn’t help with his breathing and Zador loved that. It meant that it would be just him and the Beast would sleep. It was the only reason he smoked.  

As he took the first puff, he felt the beast stir and growl. It pleased him to have power over his curse. Taking another puff, he breathed into the air, watching the grey smoke curl and dance, free of him, and drift away. He was envious of it.  

The beep of as a car caused him to look up, just in time to see two cars collide. The crash was so loud it sent a wave of pain through Zador’s head. So much for peach and fresh and air. Throwing his cig down and stomping it out, he turned back for the club.  

The moment he stepped inside, his beast stirred again and let out a loud roar. Zador leant against the wall to prevent himself from falling. His whole body was shaking. The roar had him trembling. Placing his hand on the wall, he pushed himself straight. Weak was not in his vocabulary.  

But as soon as he was standing straight, his knees buckled under him and he was down on the floor, breathing hard. He could feel his beast preparing to roar again. It took each ounce of his remaining strength to suppress it. He struggled, duelling with it mentally, before collapsing on the floor, unconscious, his battle won. His beast had sensed something wrong.