Control me.

Chapter 3 - Nick.

I always wake up to the sound of my phone, even if my bed looks like it was built for kings. Bel Air stretches beyond the glass windows of my suite, but I don't look at the view. The first thing that matters is the schedule of the day.

Black coffee. No sugar, no softness.

The smell wakes me better than any alarm ever could.

Training is my law.

Every morning, more than an hour of hard work—weights, punching bag, jumps, running. My body is a weapon, and I won't let it dull for even a single day. Every muscle, every vein, every line of it proves one thing: I'm the one who decides.

After that comes the shower. Hot. Scalding. Enough to wake even the most dormant instinct inside me. My skin shines under the light, my dark hair darker when it's wet, my muscles tight and ready for the day.

My penthouse smells like leather, wood, smoke, and the faint trace of the cologne I wear.

Ready to conquer everything.

As I walk down to the first floor, my office is already waiting. Alan is there before me, sending messages to our men, organizing meetings, checking deliveries and transactions.

The first task of the day is always the same: the clubs.

A check on the night that just ended—and preparation for the one that's coming.

Inferno must always be clean. The accounts balanced. My men aware of exactly where politeness ends and fear begins.

As I pass through the first offices, employees look at me with a mixture of fear and admiration. No one speaks without permission.

The phone keeps ringing.

Everyone wants something.

Protection. Jobs. Advice. Money.

Everything passes through my hands. I decide who moves forward and who disappears.

After the morning inspection of Inferno, I move on to the second project of the day: laundering money through a chain of businesses.

Cafés. Nightclubs. Private gyms.

Accounts are checked. People are paid—or blackmailed—depending on what the situation requires. There's no room for mistakes. Every move is carefully measured.

One businessman wants to join my network. Another refuses to pay.

Alan stands next to me, silent, ready to execute any order.

The way I speak, the hardness in my words, the violence implied in every gesture is enough for anyone to understand that negotiation doesn't exist here.

Every decision I make shapes the night, my influence, my dominance.

My men know it.

Everyone else does too.

My name is legend, and every move must be precise. Otherwise they'll feel the consequences.

Time moves fast.

The office fills with new communications, messages, contacts. I never sit still. My mind never rests.

I monitor. I calculate. I decide.

Every transaction, every club, every woman that passes through my hands—everything is part of the game.

The afternoon is reserved for the rest of the projects: the new club we're opening, deals with weapon suppliers, monitoring the drug routes.

Every detail matters.

Inferno isn't just a club.

It's a symbol of power. Authority. Fear.

No one enters without knowing exactly who Nick Martinez is.

Hours pass and night finally arrives. The city lights glow outside, phones keep ringing, messages from employees, businessmen, rivals fill the screen.

I choose which ones deserve an answer.

Every choice is strategy.

Every move—another step ahead.

Night falls heavily.

Inferno opens again for the customers. Men and women who want to feel the shine, the brutality, the thrill of stepping into my world.

And I stand behind the doors, watching.

Controlling.

Deciding.

Every glance, every movement, every cry answers to my name.

The end of the day finds me back at the mansion, drinking a glass of whiskey neat, watching the city live and breathe beneath my power.

The power is mine.

The world is mine.

And the night is only the beginning.

My villa was quieter than anyone would expect.

Lights dimmed. Shadows dancing along the walls. The bar stocked with the finest whiskey and bourbon.

And me, sitting in the large chair behind my desk, looking at Alan.

The only man I trust in this place. The only one who knows who I truly am.

Nick slowly swirled the whiskey in his glass.

"We need a new lawyer," he said, his voice low and sharp. "Someone who won't betray us. Someone who understands there are no second chances here."

Alan nodded, his expression serious.

"We have a few candidates," he replied. "But you know how it is. Most of them crumble when they're standing in front of you."

He wasn't trying to flatter me. He was observing.

And I knew exactly what he was thinking—how ruthless I am, how quickly I erase anyone who talks behind my back.

We talked about the last man who betrayed us.

His name didn't matter.

The act did.

He tried to play by my rules and step forward like he was my equal.

And I made sure he disappeared with his own hands.

I know I should let others do the dirty work. But I can't.

I don't leave things unfinished. I don't let anyone believe they're safe.

Anyone who betrays me pays for it the most brutal way possible.

Alan flipped through a few papers.

"This one has experience in major corporate cases," he said. "He could cover us legally everywhere. But you need to be sure he won't back down."

I leaned back in my chair, whiskey still in my hand.

Alan walked in again with a smile I knew all too well.

"I've got someone interesting," he said, placing a folder in front of me. "Rising star. Smart. Talented. Paul Anderson."

I looked at him.

"And you checked him out?" I asked quietly, the edge in my voice unmistakable.

Alan smiled again, that ironic confidence only he could carry.

"Everything," he said, opening his laptop and turning the screen toward me. "Every detail."

Photos of Paul filled the screen.

Young. Around thirty. Blonde. Tall. Good-looking. Far from the rough faces that usually surround me.

The pictures showed a man raised in luxury: cars, mansions, galas, presentations. Always dressed perfectly. Always smiling for cameras.

Alan continued.

"Son of the most famous lawyer in the city. Took over the firm when his father retired. Big cases. Politics. Celebrities."

I studied the screen carefully.

Photos in suits. At events. Shaking hands. Smiling with the same look that searched for weakness in the person across from him.

His career wasn't just an opportunity.

It was a weapon.

And his eyes suggested he knew exactly how to use it.

With another click, Alan pulled up the rest: birth date, family background, previous cases, even evaluations from colleagues.

The information was complete.

Raw.

Unfiltered.

I kept staring at Paul's photos, analyzing every detail.

His origins. His age. His connections. His character.

Alan had done his job perfectly.

Nothing here would fool me.

A dark smile spread across my face.

"Interesting..." I said slowly. "We'll see if he's strong enough to enter my world."

Alan nodded. He already knew what that meant.

Anyone who wants to work with me must first understand who I am. What I demand.

And what happens when someone betrays me.

I laughed quietly. A dark, cold sound.

"Everyone thinks they can enter my world without paying the price," I said. My eyes hardened. "There will be no second chances."

My gaze burned.

"Every mistake. Every lie. Every betrayal... will be paid in blood. Understood?"

Alan nodded. No words needed.

In this place, the rules are simple:

Obey.

Or disappear.

And I am the center of it all.

I stood up and walked toward the window overlooking the ocean. The city lights flickered below as I thought about the new lawyer.

I need someone smart. Dangerous enough. Someone who doesn't fear violence or power.

Someone who knows how to play my game without trying to outplay me.

Nick turned slightly toward Alan.

"We'll test him," he said. "A small project. Something simple. I want to see how he handles pressure... how he reacts when he realizes what I'm really asking."

My voice left no room for doubt.

I sat back down, took another sip of whiskey, and smiled.

Night was approaching.

Soon I'd find out who was strong enough to step into my world.

No one enters unless they prove they can survive the raw reality of it.

Alan remained silent, understanding that every decision I make is final.

And I enjoyed the feeling that everything happening in this room happens my way.

Anyone who enters my world must understand one thing:

There's no way back.

Anyone who betrays me...

won't live long enough to regret it.

Night arrives.

The lights dim.

Messages about the coming night begin to flood my phone.

And the feeling of power fills the room.

Every thought.

Every move.

Every choice.

Part of the game.

Here, in the absolute certainty of my villa, I decide who lives... who dies... and who is strong enough to stand beside me.