A/N: Just a prewarning, this chapter contains mention of domestic abuse.

Fountain pen scrawling away, Lana's ears tuned in passively to the crackling ambience of the warm hearth to the right of the high backed plush black chair she was currently seated in.

It was a gloomy Saturday in Saint Denis, just outside of the windows the rain pattered relentlessly and cried tears down the window panes. Somewhere from skies miles away, a rumbling sound of thunder reverberated across the grey expanse of sky, causing the singer to look up from her notepad – eyes flickering across the room to the nearest bay window.

The small gesture she had made, the first noticeable one in the last ten minutes – caused Harper's dark eyed gaze to flash up from the letter he was studying at his desk. Knowing she wasn't looking, he cracked a secretive gaze to himself, like he often did as he looked upon his girl. His glamorous queen, his living and breathing trophy and by far, the best thing he owned. Ownership; that was the big kick out of having Lana Grant. This was no real love for Harper at all, he had cared for few in his lifetime. No, he was fond of having her as his own because he was aware of her cultural influence on the city he owned. She was Saint Denis' biggest celebrity in her own right. The way Harper figured, he should be the only one to have her anyway. Lana was the brightest star in the city that he ruled.

"Lana." The man suddenly piped up, breaking the otherwise gentle sounds in the study. Quick as anything, she glanced sheepishly around to attention. James simply made an obvious statement of setting his empty whisky tumbler down on the desk top with a glassy thunk, a wordless command for another tipple of his favourite alcoholic drink.

Straight away, she rose up from the chair and crossed the room to the small table that sat just by the desk. A large bottle of the amber liquid sat there calling to be poured, as she tried to do the mindless task without feeling the usual fear that always ended up creeping over her.

This past week had not been an easy one; that was for sure. For the first half of the week, Harper was infuriated most days upon hearing the news about the Van Der Linde boys raiding one of his warehouses and stealing a load of weapons. So furious, in fact, that the moment a rather embarrassed Tommy St Kilroy had been shunned from Harper's study – the leader of the Cobalt Jackals himself raised his hand to a rather frightened songbird.

Over the past year or so since becoming a permanent piece of furnishing in this tyrant's life, Lana quickly learned he had little value of love, morality or decency when it came to women. If Harper was mad, he was like a savage creature. Teeth bared, eyes ablaze with some malevolent ferocity that was unchained in lashings of hurt. He hit her bad, no regard for the terrified pleas and the begs for him to stop. Besides the physical violence, there was a lot of emotional abuse and manipulation too. In fact, the whole thing frequently had her head spinning with anxiety.

Mulling over these thoughts whilst slowly pouring the golden whisky over the large cubes of ice,  Lana flashed her (eye colour) eyes up daringly at Harper to try and wager what sort of mood he was in today. Of course, straight away he caught her gaze, and a slow, somewhat sinister looking smirk appeared on his face. Whether it was meant to be charming or not, Lana really was not entirely sure.

The brute rather had her head in a whirl most days. For weeks at a time, she could be living in utter fear and feel like she wasskirting around the edge of the large mansion the man lived in – trying to avoid him and his terrible temper. However, other times – he would be so affectionate, and so convincingly so that for a while it seemed it could erase the memories of the hurtling fists and the screamed derogatory terms that were blasted in her oppressed direction. It was as if he was a man wearing a mask, a changeable face and personality he swapped between every now and then.

Living like this, there was no sense of real stability or security. It was like permanently living in a storm, a cascade of hardship and fear of where the next beating was coming from, and brutal battling winds of insecurity. There was no beacon blazing brightly at the end of this tunnel, no sense of change on the horizon. Harper was a broken man, every one knew that. Dangerous, a real force to be reckoned with and so twisted out of any moral shape that nothing could be done to offer him any sanctuary. Living under his shadow taught Lana to be cautious, and reduced her to have little trust in anyone.

Her mind was ruminating over this miserable truth as her dainty hands finished pouring the drink, setting the glass down on his desk gently and then stepping back without a word, going to make her way back to the comfort of the chair in the long, dark navy satin dress she adorned so beautifully.

"Whatever is the matter, sweetness?" that sickeningly sweet voice cooed from behind. The very sound of Harper making such an endearing statement seemed so unfitting, it was like hearing a cat bark.

"Nothing at all." Lana had replied, offering a wry smile as she returned to your seat. She knew very well that if she once told him the way he made her feel, frightened, fearful and fragile – he would absolutely come undone and go insane about it. It was best to pretend she was living in a pretty paradise where she could be his little lovebird.

"I'm just nervous about the show tonight." The singer instead replied, returning to rest in the arm chair, collecting her notepad and pen and making it rather clear she just aimed to get on with her writing without fear of a conversation. Oh how she should have known it wouldn't be that easy. It appeared Harper was in the mood now where he wanted to appear to be this gentle, adoring lover who was the saviour, this role sickened Lana the most – because it was so far-fetched from the abysmal truth.

"Oh darling-" the legs of the chair slid across the floor with a protesting screech, and immediately she scrunched her eyes up tight and waited on bated breath, listening to the slow and heavy footsteps approaching closer and closer to where she was situated.

Far too soon he was there right at her side, and Lana felt the back of his hand graze against her cheek in an affectionate way. The initial contact caused her to flinch, something it seemed Harper was going to ignore and pretend was natural in a relationship... whatever relationship this was.

"You needn't worry." His low voice cooed, the tentative strokes of the backs of his fingers gliding over the skin of her cheek. "You know they all love you by now, you shouldn't need to feel nervous."

The singer was aware that she could not even bring herself to look him in the eyes, because the thought of even doing so sent a flush of sickness into the base of her stomach. How she wished she could escape from this vicious circle that had her poor mind running around madly like a hamster on a wheel.

"I'll be there watching, as I do every Saturday night." He cooed again, but it sounded smug. It felt like it was a response from reading Lana's very thoughts. A sentence that veiled a subliminal message – 'I'll be there watching, as I do every Saturday night. Watching, to ensure you can never escape me.'

Her thoughts led into no response, and a strange silence fell into the room, pressing almost. Harper smirked to himself, touching his trophy's cheek one final time as he scoffed to himself – filling Miss Grant with great relief when he began to walk away.

Alone in the study, she allowed the rigid tension in her muscles to flee like a frightened deer. Harper was such a strange force, it seemed even when he walked into the room he brought a sense of great fear and intensity with him.

It made Lana wonder whether he actually knew the effect he had on people – more specifically, herself.

She had quickly followed this up with an affirmed thought train that, yes, of course he knew the impression he made on. He must've done, he seemed to get too much of a smug thrill out of it not to know.

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A/N: Sorry this is rather boring (very), in this chapter I just wanted to set up the reader's relationship with Harper so you guys have some kind of an idea of what it consists of and how you feel about him etc etc.

The next chapter will be heckin' juicy, I promise (I just hope I can write it well skskasdaksjd)