Chapter 1
It starts as an ordinary day. But what is an ordinary day, Really?
Simple: wake up, brush your teeth, comb your hair — that is, if you have time. If you're in a rush, you're running for your life, hopping on one leg while trying to put on your shoes and brushing your hair on the way out. If you're lucky, you've got a piece of toast hanging out of your mouth and a cold sip of coffee you made when you woke up... and forgot about it.
That's a normal day. A good day? That's when life is sorted — no rush, no stress hitting you like a curveball.
Mack stood at his desk, leaning forward with a MacBook in one hand, flipping through his daily schedule. He checked if all his trucks were heading where they needed to be, if his bodyguards were on time at their stations and if his special forces team had checked in.
Sindy entered the room, strolling toward him, her eyes locked on his broad frame. He was tall, big-built — a man whose arms needed two hands to wrap around. He held the MacBook effortlessly in one arm, scrolling with the other. She admired his freshly trimmed beard and clean-cut hair until his head snapped up and he frowned.
"What do you need, Sindy?" he asked, voice smooth but firm.
"Sorry, sir. I just wanted to let you know the tables are booked for tonight. The car from the cleaners will arrive at 6 p.m.," she mumbled.
"Okay. Leave now." He turned away, muttering something as he sat down. Sindy walked out.
Mack didn't talk much — to staff or anyone else. Most said he was rude, but truthfully, he was just laid back. Handsome in a way that made people stare, he preferred his solitude and stuck to his routines. Tonight was different, though. Dinner with his team — the best way to cool off.
"Coffee, please. And some crumbed mushrooms with cheese sauce. That'll be all, thank you."
Viola smiled at the waiter and tapped away on her laptop. Her seat overlooked the river, a calming view that always soothed her.
She was short, fierce, and recovering. After two decades with the man she thought she'd die beside, he cheated — with an office girl, no less. Viola lost everything. Except, thankfully, her mother and sister, who helped her start over.
Now she was an author of steamy romances, living in her little world of fictional passion. Short brunette hair curled down her back — curls she hated, always trying to slick them flat. Her tattoos were conversation starters, and she joked about how adorably short she was. But lately, she felt... nothing.
Typing away, she took bites of her mushrooms. Her friend Samantha had just started her shift at the restaurant. Viola planned to stay late, fueled by coffee, working into the night.
Samantha warned her — it would be a busy evening. Elites. Businessmen. Locals. The usual crowd. The music here was always good — some classics, old-school stuff. Viola gave her friend a nod as Samantha rearranged the tables.
Five sleek cars pulled into the lot. Handsome men stepped out, dressed in jeans and button-ups, each in a different colour. Samantha greeted them and led them to the outdoor tables by the river — just across from Viola, who didn't look up once.
Mack frowned when he spotted her, her head buried in her laptop, coffee in hand, eyes on the water.
"Waitress! We want drinks!" Ronald called out, waving his arm.
Samantha beat the trainee there, smiling. "Welcome, gents. What can I get you?"
They listed their drinks. Mack ordered his usual — black coffee, steak almost still mooing, garlic bread, jalapeño sauce on the side, and fried rice. Divine.
The place grew loud. Viola, overwhelmed, sipped her now-cold coffee and looked up — only to see a man lifting his cup toward her in a greeting. She frowned, closed her laptop, and decided it was time to leave.
It was past 7 p.m., and she thought she might stop at the store. Independent now — or so she told herself.
"Sam, can I get the bill? I'll see you tomorrow — it's your day off."
"Of course. Wait for me. I'll grab it. Sorry, boo, I can't come over for movie night and cuddles."
Viola giggled and waved her off. Their friendship was intense, weird to outsiders, normal to them. Samantha often called Viola a psycho with a black heart.
"Hey boo... your bill's settled. You got a tip, too."
"Huh? Who paid my bill? I'm alone." Viola frowned, pulling out money anyway. Sam pointed to a man — the same one who had lifted his cup at her.
He looked like a mafia boss. It meant nothing to her.
She walked to his table, the men turning to look.
Mack smirked. "By nightfall, she'll be mine," he whispered to his men.
"Excuse me," Viola said. "Here. I didn't ask you to pay my bill." She slid the money toward him, making firm eye contact.
"Did I need permission? You should say thank you and smile instead of being so stubborn."
Viola's breath caught, but her voice stayed sharp.
"You're a stranger. I thank friends, not men who assume. Take this — and don't do it again. Some people like to pay their way."
She turned on her heel and walked off. Sam stood nearby, cheering her quietly. Viola was a badass, and she knew it. No man would ever take something from her again.
Mack leaned back, grinning. The chef came out, announcing the kitchen's last call. It was nearly midnight. They usually closed earlier, but no one argued when Mack was around. Not unless they wanted a gun to their face — or worse.
Mack tapped Hyde's shoulder, telling the men to wait in the cars. He'd settle the bill.
"What's your name?" he asked the waitress.
"Samantha, sir. I hope everything was to your expectations." She smiled nervously.
He nodded. "Yes. Now, who was the girl that hugged you?"
"She's my bestie. Her name's Viola. May I ask why, sir?"
"No, you may not. Give me her number and address. I'll tip well."
"I can't just hand over my bestie's info to a demanding stranger."
His jaw tightened.
"What if I told you I'm in love with her? That I want to make her happy. She's... different."
"You should've led with that," Sam smirked. "You won't get any of what you just promised. But I'll give it to you anyway. I want to see you crumble. Oh — and don't forget my tip, sir."
Mack grinned as she typed the details into his phone. He tapped his card, left a fat tip, and walked out with a smirk.
As he stared at the screen, he whispered:
"Viola… I can be your shadow. You seem like a vixen in lace — wild, untamed. I like that. Princess."
He laughed to himself, bumped shoulders with Hyde, and walked toward the cars. They stood around, cracking jokes before driving off.