The receptionist knew the sound of Leon Wolf's shoes against the marble lobby floor. It wasn't just footsteps; it was a drumbeat of consequence. Every employee in the vicinity froze, pretending to study their spreadsheets, but their eyes tracked the six-foot shadow gliding toward the private lift. He wasn't wearing a suit to look good; he wore it like armor, perfectly tailored to hide the lethal mass beneath.
When the lift doors whispered open, they saw the face that launched a thousand scandalous fantasies across the city. It wasn't handsome it was dangerous. Chiseled and cold, utterly devoid of warmth. As he passed, his hand brushed the corner of the receptionist's desk, leaving a whisper of expensive cologne and the scent of fear.
Leon stepped into the lift alone, punching the top floor button. He was twenty-six, a billionaire CEO by day, and the most feared man in the city by night. His fingers tapped once against the polished stainless steel, impatient. He had a contract to review, a competitor to crush, and a promise he needed to keep a promise that would end in a bullet hole and a freshly dug grave.
He got out, closed the car, and locked it. Then he walked to the door of the company.
He entered and made his way to the receptionist. He didn't need to talk; everyone in the company already knew what was to be done. He looked at her.
"Good morning, Sir. You have four messages. I wrote all of them here," she said.
Leon took the paper the receptionist gave him and headed to his office.
The receptionist smiled because her hands slightly touched Leon's hand as she handed him the paper.
There were people waiting to enter the lift. But, as always, if the boss comes, they know that they should all wait for him to enter, and then they will enter after the lift comes back.
He entered the lift and went up to his office.
He got there and sat down.
He sighed, "Sigh."
He then looked at the paper the receptionist gave him and read the messages. Nothing out of the ordinary.
He started with his job.
After a while, he got a call on his office phone. He picked it up.
"Mr. Wolf speaking. How can I help you?" asked Leon.
"Good morning, Mr. Wolf. The journalist from the Everyday News Magazine would like to place an appointment to meet you," said the Receptionist.
"Regarding?" asked Leon.
"She said something about 'young businessman on the move'," replied the Receptionist.
"Not interested," said Leon.
Before the Receptionist said anything, Leon hung up.
He then sat back and took his phone. He looked up the magazine, chuckled, and then just went out of the search.
Someone knocked.
"Come in," said Leon.
He looked at the door like he was scanning the door. It turned out to be his assistant.
"You are late," said Leon.
"Was held up at the meeting," replied Joe.
"How did it go?" asked Leon.
"Well. He signed off the agreement," replied Joe.
"So we scored another contract?" asked Leon.
"Am I great, or am I great?" exclaimed Joe.
"You're an ass," said Leon.
"Ouch! Is that the 'thank you' I get?" said Joe.
Joe is the closest stranger to Leon. He is even closer to Leon than some of Leon's own family. Leon is not an open book, and he is very careful about whom to trust.
Little secret: Leon doesn't trust anyone, not even family, not even Joe.
His only bad point is his coldness. He is surely even colder than ice.
The Troublemaker: Beauty (Boi)
The stench of stale beer and desperation clung to her skin. Her birth certificate read Beauty, but on the street, everyone called her Boi. The name fit the grit in her gaze and the way she moved quick, dangerous, and always ready for a fight. At twenty, she was already a veteran of survival. Her high school teachers had been relieved to see her leave, but only because they no longer had to deal with the girl who once beat up three bullies in the cafeteria and left a teacher's car keyed after being sworn at.
Boi wasn't a sadist; she was a retaliator. If you started trouble with her, she finished it.
Her survival was paid for in cash and paranoia. Ever since the accident took her parents in Grade 11, the government grant and the kindness of Mrs. Lina (the only teacher she respected) had dried up. Now, her rent was paid through quick, dangerous exchanges. Selling drugs. It was dirty, it was terrifying, and it kept her and the dealer she lived with in their cramped shack.
She clutched the worn dollar bills in her pocket, the only thing separating her from an empty stomach. She was currently perched on the cracked curb outside a dimly lit convenience store, watching the shadows. Every car that slowed down, every set of footsteps, made her muscles tense.
Boi didn't fantasize about rich husbands or idols. Her only dream was to get enough money to buy her way out of the shack and out of the city before her past or her present finally caught up to her.
The lives of two souls in one story. A Mafia boss in a tailored suit, and a young woman living on stolen time, nicknamed Boi. The only question was how high the sparks would fly when their paths finally crossed.