I groaned softly as a painful pounding sensation spread throughout my head. 

God, that hurt...

I moved a little, causing the strong scent of male cologne to invade my nostrils, and strangely I found myself taking in a deeper breath. It smelt good. 

And I mean, really fucking good.

Still in the process of trying to figure out what on earth had happened, I felt something unmistakably shift underneath me, followed by a low groan.

Oh fuck, I'm on top of someone.

Pulled back into the present, I realized my head was pressed against someone's neck, their rapid pulse just about detectable against my skin. Around that same sort of time, I noticed two hands were placed loosely around my midriff - the feel of them creating a strange kind of burn underneath my skin. 

Another low sound emitted from underneath me before the hands moved lower down my back - stopping at a position dangerously close to my arse. 

Okay, this was getting weird...

I quickly put my hands on his chest and pushed myself up into a seated position, my legs still straddled either side of him. The moment I looked down, I froze - the music and voices all around me seeming to fade away. 

 Two luminous green eyes studied me with a piercing curiosity, and soon the rest of him came into focus. The masculine jawline; the rich brown skin, his full lips. It was the very guy I had been gawking at only seconds before: it was Nathan Woods.

I blinked down at him in shock, a thousand different thoughts running through my mind.

I mean, at least I landed on someone hot...

Suddenly whatever weird connection that was happening between my brown eyes and his were lost. His eyes flickered with a feverish kind of anger all over my face. 

Rather sharply, he pushed his hands on the floor to sit up, causing his body to shift underneath me. With our faces now completely aligned, he glared at me, his eyes racked with disdain.

 "You're so clumsy! Look what you did," he accused, his eyes still working over mine with perpetual irritation.

 Leaning back in shock, I found myself at a loss for words. Those warm, dazing feelings he had been stirring up inside me mere moments ago faded away into nothing like they were never there at all.

 I mean, could you blame me? He had confirmed himself as a complete and utter dickhead.

I let out an incredulous scoff, my eyes narrowing into crinkled slits. 

"You're calling me clumsy," I spat out in a bitter laugh. "That's rich, coming from the moron who grabbed my waist and pulled me down with him," I huffed. 

Still propped up on his elbow, Nathan lifted one of his perfect eyebrows, a mocking little smile appearing on his face.

 "Oh, you think that was an accident?" he jeered. "Sweetie, I wanted you to fall down," he whispered condescendingly.

 My blood boiled with rage, and every nerve in my body was screaming at me to wrap my arms around his neck and wring, and wring, and wring. 

Calming myself down a little, I sat a little straighter up on his lap and drilled my eyes back into his to gain back my confidence. 

I tilted my head a little. "Aww, why? Has Nathy-wathy not been laid in that long that he has to forcefully push girls onto him," I taunted with a condescending little pout. 

He didn't even flinch at my insult; it seeming to barely bother him in the slightest. Letting out a breath of a chuckle, his lips quirked up at the corners. 

"Wow, you even know my name. I was going to give you the benefit of the doubt, but it appears to me you have quite literally thrown yourself at me," he quipped; musical laughter to his tone.

 Not having a smart response for that, I helplessly pressed my lips together tightly as more irritation bubbled up inside me. 

Nathan seemed to take my silence as an indicator to carry on sprouting more bullshit, and that annoying little smile of his grew as he leaned forward just that little bit more. "

And I think you and I both know that I don't struggle with getting laid. I can get any girl who's into guys. Even you," he whispered. 

Then with the tilt of his head, his eyes loosely worked themselves from my face down to my torso as though he was doing a quick analysis of me. It made me feel a little self-conscious, considering I was dressed in my inappropriate uniform. Before I could dwell on it for too long, his eyes quickly returned to mine with a smirk. 

"Not that I'm interested in blondes, of course," he added quickly, his eyes narrowing tauntingly.

 Despite my insistence that I didn't care what he thought, his comment hit me like a sharp stab. I held my face steady like his comment hadn't bothered me at all. Briefly, letting my eyes brush judgementally over his face, I let out a lazy snort. 

"Oh, is this the game where we confuse dreams for reality? Didn't realize we were playing?" I snickered.

Still loosely smiling for some reason, he slowly shook his head, almost pityingly. 

"Those are awfully big words for a girl who's still happily sat in my lap, aren't they?" he questioned, his eyes sparkling wickedly. 

His words immediately raised my alarm, and I sprung my head downwards, horrified to find his words were indeed true. I was still sat rather comfortably on his thighs, with my legs tucked on either side of his torso. Or, in other words, I was literally straddling him by the side of the club floor. 

I could feel his eyes on my face, likely taking satisfaction from my humiliation.

Riled up with shame, I ripped myself off of his lap and scrambled to my feet before shifting my angry gaze downwards to where he still sat. I practically had to siphon energy from the gods of self-control themselves to not jab a sharp kick to his ribs while he was still down.

At a leisurely pace, he followed me up to a standing position. As he did, he glanced down at his clothes in disdain before starting to rapidly beat away imaginary dust. 

He shot me a brief disgusted glance. "Now, look what you've done. You've gotten my Louis Vuitton jacket all dusty," he accused as he continued to angrily pat the non-existent dirt from his jacket. 

I couldn't resist a laugh, which I poorly covered up with a cough. "Sorry? Your Louis Vui-fucking what now? You're literally wearing a normal bomber jacket," I snickered as I eyed him and his jacket up and down in confusion.

 I didn't understand rich people at all; they paid millions of dollars to parade around in designer clothes that look exactly the same as the ones at a dollar store.

He rolled his eyes skyward. "Of course, you don't understand fashion. You are dressed like a cheap hooker, after all," he jeered as he made a flippant hand gesture from my chest to my thighs.

Something in me snapped, and I stepped forward and shoved him roughly back by his shoulders. He stumbled back a few steps but once he regained his balance, he laughed.

"Oh, so we're violent now too, " he taunted. 

"How fucking dare you call me a hooker!" I hissed, my eyes narrowing in on his in threat.

Teeth broke through his stupid grin. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to hit a nerve," he drawled mockingly. 

Taking a step closer to me, he leered down at me, his annoyingly good-looking face shrouding my entire view. 

"Fine, what about if I promote you to a fancy escort," he suggested, not an ounce of kindness to his tone.

My mouth gaped open at his audacity. This only seemed to encourage him, his smile growing broader as he slowly surveyed me from head to toe. I didn't miss the way his eyes stopped at embarrassing places to further drive home his point. His eyes finally made their way back up to mine, and he smiled. 

"Hmm, not bad, how much do you charge?" he whispered, his eyes moving downwards to make a pointed look at my breasts.

 I physically felt a part of myself snap, and I could no longer hold myself back, my anger bubbling over and consuming me.

"That's it, you're dead," I snapped out in a war cry.

As I was about to lunge for his neck, I felt two arms slide around my waist and pull me back sharply.

"Soph, stop it, that's enough," I heard Brandon's voice whisper warningly against my ear.

 Deafened by rage, I flailed my legs around wildly and screamed like a banshee as I tried to free myself from his grip. 

"Put me down, Brandon! Put me down! I need to kill him! Let me kill him!" I shouted out in a mad frenzy. 

Brandon ignored me and half-wrestled, half-carried me away. From his heavy pants and occasional profanities, I could tell it was quite a struggle. 

Nathan, the fucking arsehole, was laughing his head off and gave me a little condescending wave as I got carted off. 

"I hate you," I screamed at his retreating figure. 

From the way people were looking at me, I knew I was acting like a madwoman, but I didn't care. I wanted Nathan Woods dead - plain and simple.

Eventually, at many attempts of escape, I stopped struggling, realizing Brandon wasn't going to let go. He grew up taking kickboxing classes at the same youth club as I did, so he could be pretty forceful when he had to be. 

Walking me over to the bar, he finally dumped me down on one of the stools like a child.With an exhausted sigh, he pulled out a stool alongside mine before flopping down onto it. He turned to me, still working to regain his breath. 

"Now, Soph, what did I tell you never to do again?" he asked softly.

 I crossed my arms and looked down at the floor. "To not get into any more fights at the club," I mumbled, still staring downwards. 

"And what did you just do?" he asked.

 "Try and fight someone," I mumbled as I lowered my chin down in shame.

 "But come on, Brandon, in my defense, the dickhead was asking for it," I argued as I threw a flippant hand over my shoulder to where Nathan had been standing.

Brandon paused, then slowly nodded his head in agreement. "Can't argue with you there, I listened in on your whole conversation, and boy was it interesting," he whistled.

The reminder of our conversation was enough to depress me once more. With a soft groan, I dug the edge of my elbows onto the table before sinking my head into my hands. 

Brandon patted me on the back. "There, there little one," he comfortingly whispered. 

"He's such an obnoxious asshole!" I whined into my hands. 

Everything from the assault to losing my job to Nathan being an absolute piece of shit to me was all too much. I couldn't and wouldn't take it anymore. I was done being pushed around by my life. 

Pressing my lips together in a harsh line, I snapped my head up. "I want revenge Brandon," I hissed, my fingers digging into my palm. 

Brandon lifted a surprised eyebrow. "Really? I'm intrigued; what are you planning?" he questioned in a hum. 

Focusing on a single spot in the distance, I let my mind circle with ideas. I needed to do something that would ruin this man, something that would strip him of his pride. I scoured my mind over and over again for plans of revenge, and then one beautiful idea hit me. 

Slowly, I turned to Brandon, my mouth quipped up into a smirk. "I'm going to Gold-dig him," I proclaimed proudly.

Brandon paused and stared at me for an unnaturally long time, barely even blinking. Then suddenly, he cracked a smile and broke out into laughter. 

"I have to admit, you actually got me there for a second," he snickered, his smile still loosely resting on his face. 

Soon his brows started to furrow when he realized I wasn't laughing or even smiling. 

I blinked back at him. "I'm not joking," I said flatly. 

Brandon's smile instantly vanished from his face. "Wait, what- huh? You're...you're serious?" Brandon blabbered out, his face seeming a cross between confused and worried.

"Yes, obviously, I'm serious; I hate him," I hissed, still continually curling and uncurling my fists.

 My head ticked towards Brandon once more, a cruel smile sitting on my face. "And what better revenge is there than tricking him into falling in love with me so I can get my hands on his money," I spat, my voice rippled with disdain. 

Brandon snickered, his eyes dancing with amusement. "You're still forgetting one tiny detail. You hate him. How are you gonna stomach the idea of flirting with him? Or kissing him? Soph, you might even have to sleep with him," he explained passionately.

 My nose wrinkled at the mere thought of granting a jackarse like him an ounce of sexual pleasure. "Gross," I shivered. 

"See, this is exactly my point," Brandon laughed.

Unconcerned, I rolled my eyes. "Relax, I don't need to do anything sexual with him for the plan to work. I'm gonna play hard to get," I explained with a simple shrug.

"Hard to get?" he questioned slowly.

 "Yeah, you boy's always like what you can't have. If I make him think I'm not attracted to him, it'll make him want me even more," I explained simply.

Slowly, I swiveled around on my chair and looked around a bit before stopping at my target. "Just look at him," I said. 

Brandon turned around and slowly followed the line of my gaze. I watched Nathan Woods the same way a mass- murderer might watch their next kill. He was reclined back on one of the sofa's, but he wasn't alone. 

Not by a long shot. 

The dickhead had somehow managed to convince some super-hot Hispanic-looking chick to perch herself onto his lap. My face scrunched up in disgust as he ran his finger up and down her bare leg and whispered something in her ear. It was beyond me how he had managed to make so much progress in such a short time.

 I nodded my head over to him. "A guy like him has never been rejected. So, what I'm going to do is worm my way into his perfect little life and not show him a single ounce of sexual interest," I said, a proud smirk sitting on my face.

Brandon let out a rude snort. "From the way you were looking at him before, I'm not too sure you'll be all that convincing," he sang.

 I turned to face him with a scowl and whacked him roughly. "Shut up. I wasn't checking him out." 

Brandon pouted and rubbed his arm. "So yeah, the plan is simple. Get him to love me. Take his money. And then dump him. And you know what my favorite part will be?" I smiled. 

"Taking the money?" he guessed. 

I laughed. "Close, but no. It's going to be looking that bastard dead in the eye when it's all over and telling him it was all a lie," I announced.

There was a moment of silence before Brandon broke it with a long whistle. "Jesus Christ, Soph, that's some dark shit," he chuckled a slight nervous trill to his tone. 

"Well, I'm a dark girl," I shrugged. "Now, let's get going," I chirped as I hopped off the chair. "I've got some major planning to do." 

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Author's note:

So there's chapter four done, hope you enjoyed xx

Dare I ask, but what do people think of Nathan?

I know he seems...quite bad right now, but you've got to trust the process lol. Just trust the process...

Next update: Friday (6-8 PM - UK time)