Dakota Black

"Do you remember how we used to party, got drunk and did shits? Because I didn't forget."

Ryan stands in front of me with that irritating smug face, but there is something darker hidden in his voice.

My gaze sharpens as his smirk widens, twisting into something more sinister, like a layer of threat that I can't quite place, and it somehow push my nerves on edge.

What the hell does he mean by that?

My heart picks up speed as I try to decode his comment. It's been five years, he wouldn't have it, right?

Ryan grins, gleaming like a predator catching a whiff of fear. The smirk never leaves his lips as he hisses, "Enjoy."

I watch his back disappear into the crowd, leaving me rooted to the spot with unsettling thoughts.

He couldn't possibly mean what I think he does.

Tension tighten my muscles as I replay his words in my mind. He didn't elaborate, didn't clarify his intent, just let that vague, loaded statement hang in the air like a ticking bomb, which is now fucking up with my head.

Whatever game Ryan is playing, he has just gotten a head start of it.

"Dakota!"

I flinch at the voice cutting through the silence in my mind and turn around to find Ryan's father standing before me.

Robert Damison. A powerful man, notable chairperson of Stallion Groups, trustee of this college, and someone who never walks into a conversation without a purpose.

I quickly straighten myself, wiping any trace of unease from my face as I face the man with the most wealth, power, and influence here.

"Mr. Damison." I clench my jaw.

We shake hands like businessmen. His grip is firm and mine just as solid.

"The speech was fantastic, Dakota." As our handshake breaks, he leans in with a playful smile, "I wonder who blocked you."

I scoff, playing cool as he rubs alcohol on my scars.

"Someone who clearly isn't into yachts." I murmur with a forced smile.

Robert chuckles lightly, but I know he isn't here for just a chat. He is not the man who does small talk.

"I saw you talking with Ryan earlier." He states with a concern of a father dressed up as curiosity. "What did you two catch up on about?"

Of course! He is here to pry about his son, scared I might spill the beans.

"As usual.. Ryan being a dick." I reply casually, not holding back the sting in my voice.

Robert gives a slow nod, looking off into the distance as if considering something deeply. I notice how he doesn't speak against my statement as if secretly agreeing to it.

"I wish he was smart as you." He speaks in a regretful voice, and I can see in his eyes that he meant every word of it.

"I really admire your work, Dakota. I have heard great things about your Design2Reality software, it's revolutionary." He praises me, but with a calculated edge beneath the surface.

"How much are you planning to trade its rights off?" He asks me, shifting from fatherly disappointment to a businessman in a flipping switch.

I have seen this play before. I knew he is not here for idle chit-chat, but to fish a deal.

"It's not for sale." I tell him flat on his face.

Robert's smile doesn't shrink, but I see a subtle change in his posture, more friendlier.

"Dakota, you are an intelligent man. You know eventually someone will crack the code and create a better software than yours. Maybe not better, but a copy of your version. It's only a matter of time."

His words stir up my anxiety, bringing them on the surface and I take a gulp of the cold drink to calm myself down. Only to instantly regret it, hating its sickly sweet taste sliding down my throat.

"So when the God of money forwards his hand, like a wise man you should grab it." Robert advises me, dropping his playful tone.

I scoff ridiculously at his statement.

"If my software was that easy to be copied, you wouldn't be here trying to convince me to sell it for your son." I grit my teeth, looking him dead in the eye.

Robert's gaze softens as he keeps his hand on my shoulder in a warm gesture. "Dakota.. I would never offer you a dirty deal. After all, you are like a son to me as well."

His words burn deep through me, like pouring acid on my barely healed wounds. His soft gaze cuts me deeper, peeling back the layers of my armor, exposing the vulnerable parts of me I buried long ago.

But then a wave of darkness hits me for a fraction of second, draining all the emotions and suddenly, those words no longer burn me.

"Please, save the flattery for yourself, Mr. Damison." I let out a sarcastic chuckle, making sure he sees that I am not buying any of it.

"Don't try to bring feelings into business." I slowly slide his hand away from my shoulder and the emotional manipulation he is mastered in.

None of that shit can fold me, because I am just as heartless as he is.

"Neither I am your son, nor I am selling my software to you." I state as I hold his gaze firmly, not leave a hair behind for misunderstanding.

Robert forces a smile on his face, before regaining his composure. But I have already seen it. The power dynamics have been shifted, and he knows it.

"Think about my offer, Dakota. You are a nice guy." He tells me, like a calm teacher.

But I am not a nice guy. I have never been one.

"Mr. Damison. Hello!" A loud, commanding voice cuts through the air and I glance over, immediately recognizing him.

The police officer who arrested me and remanded for seven days in the jail. None other than Emara's father.

"I am Brad Stone. It's good to finally meet you." His voice carries authority, someone who knows his place in the hierarchy of power.

Robert's face lights up with that smooth, polished charm he reserves for special people. "Ah, yes! Mr. Brad Stone. Likewise, a pleasure to meet you, chief. Rose has spoken highly of you. I must say, quite proudly."

My chest tightens instinctively, as I watch them shaking hands. Two powerful men coming together, who operate on the levels above most of the people.

"Rose is such a lovely girl. I have never met any girl as respectful as her." They start talking, way more friendlier than I had expected.

Meanwhile, I stand there like a third wheel, feeling the air grow heavier around me, and more suffocating.

I feel... inferior.

Despite my status, and all the money, I feel completely outmatched like I am not even in the same league.

Suddenly, Brad's eyes shift towards me and a flicker of recognition crosses his face.

"Dakota." His gaze sharper than his daughter's as he glares at me like a vulture, just waiting for my last breath to feed on.

"Mr. Stone." I nod at him respectfully while keeping my tone even and hiding the rising anxiety under my skin.

This man has more control over my life than I care to admit.

The officer acknowledges me with a brief nod in return, nothing more. And just like that, he turns his attention back to Robert, both of them walking away to continue their conversation as if I am invisible again.

I feel utterly powerless. Like a kid playing dress-up in a suit that is just too big for him.

My breath comes quicker, and I try to swallow down the panic rising in my chest. I find myself glancing at the watch, checking my heart rate. It's racing too fast.

Calm down, Dakota. Don't let them get to you.

I tell myself, maintaining my cool. But Ryan's threat, his dad's words and then her dad's piercing gaze, they all are dragging me down into the dark hole where I lose all my control.

Suddenly, coming here feels like a bad idea.

The room feels smaller and the suit tightens around my chest, as if it is shrinking every second. I want to tear it off and escape from this place where I feel like a bleeding person, swimming in between sharks.

I need to get out.

My breath gets shorter, my pulse louder in my ears as I walk towards the exit in a desperate need of fresh air, and a pill.

Just as I am about to leave, a notification buzzes on my watch from the Tesla app. I whip out my phone to see a mysterious movement detected by my car's side camera.

I zoom in and my heart nearly chokes on watching some punk vandalizing the door of my limited edition sports car.

You got to be kidding me!

Rage replaces panic like flipping a switch and I grip the phone tightly, walking faster than ever towards the parking lot.

This person has a fucking death wish!

I dig into my suit's side pocket for my bottle of pills, as I feel my heart trying to break some kind of Olympic record.

I grit my teeth in mad anger as I spot a figure kneeling down by the door of my car, scratching something into the paint.

What kind of idiot.. Wait! I squint my eyes as I look carefully at the back figure and colour of hair. That's not just an idiot.

That's... Emara.

🐈‍⬛ ྀི

NOTICE: I won't be updating next week as I'll be on my maid duty to help my mom clean our house and bake sweets for the upcoming festival.

I'll upload my pictures on instagram- imalmostpsycho and will post sneak peaks of what is going to happen in the book next. 

So stay tuned and wait impatiently for me 😉 

See you in November Chicas!!