Control me.

Chapter 9 - Nick.

My villa in Bel Air was drowned in an almost otherworldly silence. Only the guards outside, changing shifts, broke the routine with their discreet footsteps.

The sun had nearly disappeared behind the horizon, and shadows stretched like a veil over everything.

Tonight would be my night.

I stood in front of the mirror in my room.

My wardrobe, filled with suits tailored exclusively for me, stood open. I didn't need to think much. I already knew what I had to wear.

A black Brioni Italian suit, cut perfectly to fit my body. The fabric shimmered faintly under the light, and every detail—from the stitching to the sleeves—screamed luxury and power.

The shirt? Pure white silk, with platinum cufflinks.

The tie was black, slim, tied with flawless symmetry.

I buttoned the jacket and slowly let my gaze travel across the mirror.

The reflection staring back at me wasn't just a man.

It was a leader.

A man who could make a city kneel with a single move.

On the nightstand, my watch was waiting — a Patek Philippe Grand Complications.

I fastened it around my wrist with mechanical precision.

Every time I wore it, I felt time working for me, not against me.

I stepped out of the bedroom, walked down the marble hallway that gleamed beneath the lights, and descended the staircase.

At the entrance, two of my men were waiting silently.

One of them opened the door.

The night smelled like summer and expensive leather.

My car stood in front like a beast ready to roar: a black Lamborghini Aventador, modified specifically for me.

The cabin gleamed under the courtyard lights. Every curve, every line radiated aggression and speed.

I stepped inside and let my fingers touch the steering wheel.

The sound of the engine when it started made me smile.

There was no better music than the roar of a V12.

With two bodyguards following in SUVs, we left the villa and headed toward the Sunset Strip.

The closer we got to my new club, the busier the streets became.

Lights. Horns. Crowds.

A wave of energy was rising in the air.

From a distance it was already visible: the club's logo glowing, the red carpet rolled out, photographers and cameras lined up on both sides.

A celebration for outsiders.

A power move for me.

I parked in front.

The doors opened immediately, my guards surrounding me discreetly.

Flashes exploded the moment I stepped out of the car.

Cameras, reporters shouting my name, microphones stretching toward me.

One journalist pushed forward through the crowd.

"Mr. Martinez! Tell us about your new project! How much did the club cost? What should the city expect tonight?"

I didn't answer anyone.

My gaze remained cold, focused straight ahead.

A man like me didn't need to speak.

My presence said everything.

At the entrance stood Alan, dressed in his suit, calm but with eyes constantly scanning the crowd.

When I approached, he gave me a faint smile.

He leaned slightly closer.

"Everything's ready, boss. They're waiting for you inside."

I gave him a nod.

I took the first step onto the red carpet, and the lights around me flashed brighter than ever.

Tonight I would step back into the spotlight.

Tonight the city would receive the message.

Nothing moves without Nicolas Martinez.

The bass pulsed softly against my chest, rhythmic and controlled, designed not to drown out voices but to keep the tension at the perfect level.

The club had been built to impress from the first glance.

Marble floors.

Crystal chandeliers casting warm light.

Leather couches and tables already prepared with champagne bottles waiting to be opened.

Nothing looked cheap.

Every detail made one thing clear:

Only the best belonged here.

Only those with money, name, and influence.

I slowly scanned the room.

Everyone was there.

Familiar faces from the screen. Actors who sold millions of tickets. Singers with gold records. Models with bodies carved as if made for sin.

Politicians, perfectly groomed, wearing smiles that hid garbage beneath them.

Businessmen with heavy wallets and even heavier consciences.

And among them, luxury escorts moving like predators, their gazes hungry for blood.

When I walked in, conversations dropped for a few seconds.

Everyone knew who I was.

I could feel it.

Like electricity running through the air.

I didn't need to say a word.

A simple smile — cold, slow — was enough to remind them that I was the center of this universe.

Alan walked beside me, always half a step behind, his eyes scanning every corner of the room.

Nothing escaped him.

He knew exactly how to move.

Like a shadow.

Like an extension of myself.

He leaned closer and spoke quietly.

"Everyone came. The names we wanted are here. The rest just came to lick."

I smirked.

"Let them lick. As long as they pay for the drinks and fill the registers, I don't care."

At the VIP tables, champagne corks were already popping.

Bottles of Armand de Brignac, Dom Pérignon, Cristal.

Waitresses moved through the crowd carrying trays, their uniforms leaving little to the imagination.

I had personally taken care of every detail.

Image was everything.

We walked toward the main floor.

A group of models stood up instantly, their eyes locked on me.

One of them — with legs that seemed endless — started approaching.

Alan stopped her with a single glance.

It wasn't the time for distractions.

Tonight I wanted to show who ruled.

Not waste time on meaningless gestures.

I stopped at the bar and picked up the glass that had already been prepared for me, filled with eighteen-year-old whiskey.

I brought it to my lips and felt the fire slide down my throat.

Everything around me was exactly as it should be.

Ready for the move I had planned.

Alan lowered his voice again.

"Do you think he'll come?" he asked, referring to Paul.

I rotated the glass slowly between my fingers, my gaze fixed on the dancing crowd.

"He'll come," I said calmly. "Men like him can't say no to an invitation like this. They want to feel like they belong in my world."

I took another slow sip.

"The question is whether he can handle the weight of it."

Alan smiled.

He knew I was thinking much further ahead than I showed.

For me, tonight wasn't just an opening.

It was a test.

For Paul.

For those who would see him walk in beside me.

And for myself.

I took another drink and turned my gaze toward the entrance.

I knew he would appear soon.

And with him...

maybe someone I didn't expect.

Nothing about that scared me.

It amused me.