Control me.

Chapter 1 - Nick.

I never wake up before ten in the morning. There's no reason to. My world doesn't begin with the sunrise—it begins when darkness spreads across the sky. That's where everything happens. That's where I build my empire. That's where men either kneel... or die.

I live in Bel Air. A place that shines with luxury. Tanned bodies under the sun, villas rising above the water like palaces, wealth dripping from every corner. But beneath the glitter, there's filth hiding in the shadows.

It suits me.

Because I am both.

The shine and the dirt.

My mansion stretches across the highest hill in the city, overlooking the ocean. Everything is black. Polished. Glass and steel. Clean lines. Leather. Cold perfection. Everything that belongs to me smells like power. Everything I touch carries my sweat... and someone else's blood.

I always wake up with the same ritual.

Black coffee—bitter, just like my life—and thirty minutes of training. The body is a weapon, and weapons must stay sharp. I refuse to look at myself in the mirror and see weakness.

My arms are hard, my back carved in muscle, the veins in my hands standing out like reminders that blood is what kept me alive.

Then the game begins.

Forty calls in the morning. Thirty at noon. Another thirty at night. Everyone wants something from me. Protection. Work. Money. Weapons. Women. Drugs.

I decide who survives... and who disappears.

And they know it.

That's why they fear me.

Outside my apartment, my men always stand in pairs. Armed. Alert. Watching everything.

Alan, my right hand, is always the first to arrive. He knows me better than anyone. He's been with me since the moment I dove fully into the world of crime. Without him, I might not be here today.

I might be buried next to my father.

That useless bastard who chose the bottle over his own son.

I was nine years old when I found him lying on the floor, an empty bottle beside him. I didn't cry. Not a single tear. The only thing I felt was anger.

Why didn't he fight?

Why did he leave me?

Not that there was much left tying him to me anyway. My mother had left years earlier with another man. She didn't even look back.

So it was just me and my grandmother. She was the only one who mattered. She was the one who taught me what love meant.

But even she didn't stay for long.

When I was twenty, I lost her too.

And that's when every human part of me died.

Only the darkness remained.

Today, at thirty-three, that darkness is my greatest strength. I trust no one. I don't fall in love. I don't let anyone get close to me beyond what I allow.

Women?

A game.

I take them hard and wild until they scream with pleasure... or pain. And then it's over. Nothing remains. I give them nothing more.

My days are filled with decisions. Drugs moving through the port. Containers full of weapons waiting for me to "clean" them. People who need to be blackmailed. Others who need to be silenced permanently.

My empire wasn't built with smiles.

It was built with blood and fear.

This afternoon I have a meeting with a businessman. A small player who wants to get into my clubs. He doesn't understand that to enter my world, he has to kneel first.

If he doesn't show respect, I'll teach him how.

When night falls, Miami belongs to me.

In my clubs, the hottest bodies dance, women look at me like I'm a god, and men tremble at the mere sound of my name.

Nick Martinez.

A name written in blood on the walls of this city.

But deep down I know the truth. No matter how much my life is filled with money, violence, and sex... no matter how much everyone fears me...

that child is still inside me.

The kid who grew up in Brooklyn. The kid who learned to fight just to earn a piece of bread.

That kid will never die.

And he's the one who keeps me alive.

Alan opens the door, and as I step inside the car the city spreads out before me. Shining buildings. Lights. Wealth. Everyone pretending to be something they're not.

I pretend to be nothing.

I am exactly what they see.

And they fear me for it.

As the car glides through the streets, my mind drifts back to those early years again.

I was sixteen when I did my first "job." A small drug dealer in the neighborhood refused to pay his share to a local gang. Their leader handed me a knife and told me to show him who was in charge.

My hands trembled at first.

But when the blood ran over my fingers... when I saw the fear in his eyes... something inside me woke up.

For the first time in my life, I felt powerful.

And I never went back.

Now, seventeen years later, I'm no pawn.

I'm the king.

And everyone else crawls for a place on my chessboard.

Tonight's meeting is at one of my clubs: Inferno.

A neon hell of pounding music and bodies moving to the rhythm.

Alan and three more men walk in with me. The businessman is waiting in a private booth. Small, well dressed, eyes trying to show confidence but trembling underneath.

I sit across from him.

I don't speak.

I let him sweat.

I let him feel that my time is worth more than his life.

"Mr. Martinez," he begins, his voice cracking, "it's an honor."

I raise my hand.

"Don't say bullshit. Say what you want."

He swallows.

"I want to get into your clubs. I have the capital, I have people. I can bring clients. I can—"

I smile.

Slowly.

Coldly.

"You can do a lot, huh?"

I nod to Alan.

In less than ten seconds the guy is on the floor. Alan has him by the neck, pressing him against the marble table. A muffled cry escapes him.

I lean over him.

"You want to enter my world? You don't get in here with money. You get in with fear. With blood. If you can't handle it, then go screw yourself somewhere else."

The man nods frantically. He doesn't dare speak. He just trembles.

I signal Alan to let him go.

Alan pulls him up. His shirt is soaked with sweat.

"You'll pay every month. No questions. If you're late even once, they'll find you in the trash. Understood?"

"Y-yes, Mr. Martinez... yes..."

I nod.

"Good. Now get out. And don't ever make the mistake of looking me in the eyes like we're equals again."

I watch him run away.

A smile spreads across my face.

I like this.

I like seeing them tremble.

The night flows with drinks, women falling at my feet, men signing deals they don't understand.

For me, it's just another day.

For them, it's the point of no return.

The music of Inferno still roars in my ears, but I'm not here for the bodies dancing under the lights. I'm here to blow off steam.

To forget the tension of the day.

I call one of the best dancers in the club.

Sarah.

Tall, a body glowing under the lights, smooth skin, endless legs, and a face that knows exactly how to play every man like he's already hers.

Not that she could ever conquer me.

And yet there's something in the way she looks at me that makes a dark challenge curl into a smile on my lips.

"Come to my office," I tell her, my voice low and sharp.

Her eyes change.

She understands.

This isn't a game.

It's an order.

When she walks in, I close the door behind her and the atmosphere changes instantly. The room smells of leather, perfume, alcohol... and fear.

Sarah tries to provoke me with every movement, but she knows I'm not a man who gets impressed.

I'm the one who gives the orders.

With a quick, sudden motion, I grab her by the waist and pull her against me. I feel her body tremble.

There's no tenderness here. No softness.

Only tension. Dominance. The raw certainty that I'm the one who decides.

My lips find hers—hard, rough. My tongue pushes in without warning, forcing every bit of resistance to crumble.

My hands move over her body, across her breasts and down her back, and the resistance she tries to hold onto fades beneath the force of my desire.

She pushes me slightly—a challenge.

I smile.

That's exactly what I want.

The pure tension before the release.

I turn her against the wall, my hands on her skin. I feel her breath break, her heart pounding like a drum. Every sound she makes feeds me, gives me strength, gives me life.

There are no limits.

Every movement is raw, wild, intense.

Sarah tries to keep control, but I'm the chaos that overwhelms her.

My fingers at her throat, my lips against her skin, my tongue finding every place that makes her cry out.

Every resistance melts away. Every breath becomes mine.

Sarah bends under the intensity, but she isn't a victim. She knows what's happening is a game of power—one that only I control.

My raw desire breaks every barrier.

There's no romance here.

Only tension.

Only the power of Nick deciding how the night will unfold.

The tension reaches its peak.

Sarah's body stretches and cries out beneath every movement I make. Every touch, every pressure is absolute, without any restraint. My fingers tighten, my palms strike against her back, and the drop of her voice becomes music to my ears.

There is no tenderness. Only power. Only control.

Her body bends beneath the violence of my desire, but she doesn't truly resist. She knows there's no escape, no defense. Every cry is for me. Every breath she takes pushes her beyond the limits of pleasure and pain.

I grip her waist and pull her closer, feeling the control take over completely.

Outside, the night is full of lights and music, but in here there is nothing except us—the tension and the raw game of power.

The scent of her skin, the heat of the room, her cries—every movement becomes a dance of absolute dominance.

And when we finally reach the climax, it is merciless.

Sarah collapses completely, her body surrendering, and in that moment I feel the release I had been searching for.

There is no after.

No love.

No mercy.

Only the sensation of power—my power over a moment, over a body, over a soul that recognizes my dominance.

I let her breathe. She's still trembling, but she knows what just happened.

It was raw, wild, purely physical.

And that truth alone satisfies me.

There's no romance. No attachment. Only raw, absolute control.

As she dresses and leaves, I watch her silently. Every woman who passes through Inferno learns one rule:

Here, Nick Martinez decides.

The night may end, but the feeling of power remains.

As I turn toward the window overlooking the ocean, I feel that boy from Brooklyn again. The one who grew up fighting just to survive.

But this time there's no weakness left.

Only dominance.

Only revenge.

Only the power I carved out of blood and pain.

And I know one thing for certain:

No one enters my world without submitting... without recognizing exactly who Nick Martinez is.