TURF

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It was 06:47pm at the local mall, and Dianne's feet were in unfamiliar pain. Her car was stuffed with appliances and cutlery for her kitchen, yet she still had a shopping cart filled to the brim with decorative items for the living space.

Her plan was to decorate the house from back to front, bottom to top, and then the pool house. Her last stop before completing her first day of shopping was at the furniture store near the exit of the mall.

An exhausted Dianne swooned at the idea of elegantly laying onto any one of the high-density memory foam mattresses on presentation. Unfortunately, the best she could do was throw herself onto the office chair at the front desk.

"Hello." she nervously blushed at the clerk on the other side of the desk. "Six o'clock appointment for Dianne? Sorry I'm late..."

The elderly man was not impressed with Dianne's lack of punctuality, but it was nothing he hadn't yet experienced 40 years within the business. "Let's cut to the chase." his gaze lazily shifted towards the computer monitor. "This is rather a large order, I must admit. Everything is processed to be delivered this week. Would you like it to be delivered at one go or-"

"No, actually, I've emailed someone a schedule? Sam, I think."

A curious look crept onto the man's face. "Sam's been on paternity leave, ma'am. Would you mind taking a look at who's working the lounge section right now? My gout won't let me." The man humbly asked.

Dianne pushed herself up with the little strength that she had left in a slight panic and marched straight to the west wing of the store. She could immediately see a young male physique, wearing the store's neon blue uniform, with his back towards her. He looked like he was doing some inventory with a clipboard in one hand and a pencil in the other.

She approached him cautiously. "Hi, are you responsible for this section?" Dianne's nerves had her on her toes and fiddling with her fingers.

Words could not express how excited he was to finally hear her sugar-coated, strawberry-sweet voice. He didn't hesitate to drop the blank clipboard before turning around for her.

"It took you long enough." He smirked, removing the uncomfortable polyester store vest. It was only right for him to toss the matching cap along with the rest of the disguise.

Dianne could not believe her eyes. The name tag on his plain white T-shirt said Sam, but the face was undoubtedly "Matthew??" she yelped.

The sneaky agent wasted no time to snake his arm around her waist and pulled her in until their chests collided. "Ma'am, you were supposed to be here at six." he whispered softly just beside her ear.

Dianne pushed herself out of his clasp at a loss for words.

"A brown couch was a terrible choice for that living room, I would have gone with a warm off-white... or beige at the very least." The young man teased. "But it doesn't matter now because you're selling the house to me."

The mood completely changed when he uttered those words. As playful as Matthew could be, he was equally as ruthless when provoked - a personality trait that had been passed down to him from his father.

"No!" Dianne asserted once again. In a pathetic attempt to escape the conversation, Matthew caught her by the arm and aggressively pulled the weak woman in again.

"Sit." he instructed coldy as his patience with her was running thin.

As he loosened his grip, Dianne decided that it would be best to cooperate, this time... The lounge section was fairly empty since the store was due to close within the next hour. Matthew already knew that he didn't have to worry about any wandering eyes. He could get away with almost anything he wanted to do to her.

The youngest prince of the Monrowe empire joined Dianne on a black suade family couch. "I can offer up to 150% of what you paid for it!"

"It's not about the money!" she pleaded.

"You don't know how right you are." There is a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and Matthew was struggling to conclude which side Dianne fell on. "You may see me as your enemy right now, but I'm the only one who's actually trying to help you." He continued regardless.

Dianne was utterly perplexed at how stripping her of her last asset was him 'helping'.

"I've lived here all my life, you know? And I've seen people like you, people who refuse to sell, end up paying a harsher price simply because they had too much pride... It's just a house, Dianne. Let it go."

Chills went down her spine when her name left the young man's lips. These were eerie chills. How come? Nothing about Matthew hinted towards immediate danger, at least not quite yet. She almost wanted him to say it again, but her fury had gotten the better of her. "For fuck's sake! It's my house!"

Dianne tried one last time to escape... Did she really think it'd be that easy? Matthew pounced onto the woman like a jaguar and pinned her down by the neck to the soft cushions.

His medium-length strands of wavy hair fell just over his eyes and nose as he hovered over her. She could only see a glimpse of his baby-pink lips with the accompanying silver accessory. "What Monrowe wants, Monrowe gets." he said coldly.

In the midst of her shock, Dianne also felt a brief rush of belonging that she hadn't quite experienced for ages. It was as if she was getting some type of high from being in the grasp of a power-hungry man just like her former husband.

She could see it in his eyes and remorseless face. He had meant every word of that.

Perhaps she wasn't completely over James yet, it was all too confusing for her at the time. All she understood was that Matthew was way too young to be evoking such feelings within her, regardless of how long it's been since she had been touched. "Get off me!" She whispered. "I'm not afraid of you."

The young man applied slight pressure on the woman's neck. He didn't do this to strangle her or anything, this was just enough to add a bit of color to her already flustered face. All for his amusement. "I can tell," he smirked with his gaze steadily focused on Dianne's fingers as they were desperately scratching to unhook him from her neck. "but I'm only 1 of 8."

Matthew withdrew his hand and stepped away from the frail woman. "I can't buy you more time, Dianne. And by the way, the store is closing. Go check on your order." An unfazed Matthew snickered while unbuckling the name tag. "I have a feeling that 'Sam' messed it up."

He got up from the couch and headed for the west exit without any further interaction. All that he had left behind was the champagne coloured name tag. A shaken and breathless Dianne couldn't keep her eye off the door. She knew that she wasn't afraid of Matthew per se, but who were the seven other people in question?

It was a heavy pill to swallow on her own. She immediately reached for her phone and had to dial the most recent number in her call log. It was unsafe to fight this battle alone.