Pretty Little Savage

Chapter 1 It starts as an ordinary day. Now, it makes you wonder—what is an ordinary day? Simple: wake up, brush your teeth, and comb your hair (that is, if you have time. If you're in a rush, you run for your life, combing your hair on the way out while hopping on one leg( trying to put your shoes on). If you're lucky, you’ll grab a piece of toast hanging out of your mouth and sip the cold coffee you made earlier but forgot about. This is a normal day. A good day is 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 workload. He checked if all his trucks were heading to the right locations, if his bodyguards were on time, and whether his special forces team had reported in. Sindy entered, strolling toward Mack, her eyes fixed on him. Tall, broad-built—his arms so big that a woman would need two hands just to wrap around one. His MacBook rested effortlessly in his arm while his other hand scrolled across the screen. Sindy took a moment to admire his freshly cut hair and newly trimmed beard. He looked up and frowned. “What do you need, Sindy?” he asked in a smooth, polite voice. “Sorry, sir. I need to let you know the tables have been booked for tonight. The car will arrive at 6 p.m. from the cleaners,” she mumbled. “Okay. Leave now.” He turned away, heading toward his chair, muttering under his breath. Sindy walked out. Mack never said more than a few words to anyone, whether they worked for him or not. He was laid-back—most people said he was rude. But he was a laid-back man with a dangerously handsome face. He went about his day, just waiting for 6 p.m.—dinner with his team—the best way to cool down. “A coffee, please. And some crumbed mushrooms with cheese sauce—that’ll be all, thank you.” She smiled up at the waiter, tapping away on her laptop. The café overlooked a river—a beautiful sight that always soothed her. This was Viola. A strong, short woman whose world had come crashing down in a single day. She spent years with one man—the man she thought she'd die beside. After two decades, he left her. Cheated on her with an office assistant. Viola lost everything—except some furniture. Thankfully, her mom and sister helped her pull through. She became a romance author. Her stories were hot and steamy, keeping her fantasies alive. Short brunette, long curls that fell down her back, though she hated them. The straighter her hair, the better. She often joked about her tattoos and her short height. But today… she felt nothing. Just her, alone. She sipped her coffee, typing away, taking slow bites of her crumbed mushrooms. Her friend Samantha had just started her shift. Viola planned to stay and type until late. Samantha had warned her—it would be a busy night. Elites, businesspeople, and locals would fill the restaurant. Some would drink, some would dance. Viola nodded toward Samantha, who was moving tables around. The place was getting busier—nothing Viola wasn’t used to. Outside, five cars pulled into the parking lot. Handsome men stepped out in jeans and button-ups, each a different colour. Samantha greeted them with a smile, gesturing toward the tables outside by the river—perfect for business, drinks, and views. They sat across from Viola. She didn’t even glance up. Mack frowned when he saw her—head down, typing, sipping coffee, occasionally gazing at the river. “Waitress! We want drinks!” Ronald waved his hand dramatically. Luckily, Samantha reached the table before the new trainee. “Welcome, gents. What can I serve you this evening?” she smiled, pen poised on her notepad. They all ordered drinks. Mack ordered coffee, steak (rare), garlic bread, jalapeño sauce, and fried rice. This was divine. Rare enough that if you poked the steak, it might moo. The noise in the restaurant grew louder. Viola sighed, sipped her cold coffee, and looked up—just as a man raised his cup toward her. She frowned and closed her laptop. That was enough for the night. It was past 7 p.m. Time to go home—maybe stop at the store. She is independent now. Or so she told herself. “Sam, can I get the bill, please? I’ll see you tomorrow—it’s your day off.” “Of course. Wait for me—I’ll get you. I’m working late. Sorry, Boo, I can’t come watch movies and cuddle.” Viola giggled and shooed her away. Their love for each other might seem odd to outsiders, but it was normal to them. Samantha often called Viola a psycho, saying her heart was made of stone. “Hey boo… so, your bill’s been settled. No need to worry about it. And I got a nice tip too.” She grinned. “Huh? Who paid for it? I’m here alone…” Viola frowned, stood, and slung her laptop bag over her shoulder. She took cash from her purse and walked toward the table that Samantha pointed at. He was handsome. Looked like a mafia boss. But that meant nothing to Viola. It was the same man who had lifted his coffee cup at her. As she approached, the men turned to watch. Mack had told them that by nightfall, she would be his. “Excuse me. Here—take this. I didn’t ask you to pay for my bill…” She placed the money in front of him, locking eyes with him, her breath steady. “Did I need your permission to pay it?” he asked, surprised. “You should be grateful. Smile instead of being stubborn. Thank me.” He was shocked. No one had ever dared talk to him like that. “You’re a stranger to me. I only thank my friends. This is your chance. Don’t do this again. Some people prefer to pay their way.” Viola turned and walked back to Samantha, who stood cheering her on. She was badass—and she knew it. No man would hurt her or take anything from her again. Mack sat back, stunned, but with a grin. He chatted with his men as the night wore on. Eventually, the chef came out to say the kitchen was closing—the last orders were being taken. It was midnight. Normally, they closed earlier. But when Mack was there, the rules bent. No one dared say otherwise unless they wanted a gun in their face or to end up in a ditch,—untraceable. Mack tapped Hyde’s shoulder to escort the team out. “What is your name?” “Samantha, sir. I was your waitress. I hope everything was to your expectations,” she said with a nervous smile. He nodded. “Yes… I want to know who the girl was—the one who hugged you.” “She’s my bestie, sir. Her name’s Viola. May I ask why?” “No, you may not. Give me her address and number. I’ll tip you well.” He held out his phone. “Sir, I can’t do that. She’s my best friend. I can’t just give away her details—not even for a big tip.” His anger flared. “What if I told you I’m in love with her? I want her? I can make her the happiest woman. She’s different. I need to know more about her,” he pleaded. “Sir… you should’ve said that from the start. I’ll share her details, but you won’t get anything you just said. I’ll be here watching you crumble. And don’t forget the tip.” Samantha smirked as she took his phone, typed in Viola’s number and address, and then handed it back. Mack tapped his card and gave her a hefty tip. This was going to end in disaster—for him, of course. How could he possibly win her over? Viola—the girl who only trusted shrimp and a single fish. How could anything ever work? As he walked out, phone in hand, he smiled to himself. Viola… Viola… I can be your shadow. You seem like a vixen in lace who can’t be tamed. I like that, Princess. Laughing, he bumped his shoulder against Hyde as they stood by the cars, exchanging dirty jokes before driving off into the night.