One

Omnipresent POV

Its been days of being locked in his private home office and he had no interest of company. On the other side of the door, he just watches the screen from his desk as his ex-wife flaunts herself across the red carpet with her new fling, David.

The divorce wasn't even nearly finalized, yet she started to embarrass him, taunting him in the press with wide smiles and those lengthy red nails that read slutry.

Those same nails she used to hang onto his last name waiting til the end for the year to secure another year of alimony . He knew her too well.

He loathed her.

" Newly divorcée, Reneé Langford-Jackson has been quite the entertainment lately as she hints towards what it was really like to be with one of the BIGGEST CEOs in America. Currently every woman in the world would like to know what it was like, he was always been quite secretive with his affairs even even about his marriage...shall he get a sneak peak at this rocky road that led to this? Coming up on NBC News!" The news anchor lady reads off .

"Tsk....bitch." He mutters rolling his eyes with annoyance before powering the tv off as his right hand man, Frank, continues to pound on the door . "Yea yea I'm coming."

He retorts wishing it meant something else. It's been a while since he's had a decent lay.

As one of the biggest Business CEOs of a highly productive business organizations, he couldn't find himself to court a streetwalker.

Not with a repetition as great as his.

He'd practically be gambling it away.

He had no desire to court them, or even to wife them . To him they were nothing more than an accessory. It was nothing more he needed.

They were bound to try to take not just a piece of him but a piece of whatever he owned along with his scandalous ex wife. He refused to add onto his load. He needed something or an opportunity to secure something more promising.

He's have yet to get ahold of an idea that was 100% planned out, no gaps, no holes and definitely no opportunity for some whore to sell off his private times to the nearest journalist.

He sighs going over to unlocked the door for Frank who comes rushing in with an envelope with a look of distraught almost if he knew his boss was only moments away from being furious.

"Frank, I specifically asked not to be interrupted." Michael mutters with his arms folded, his body propped against the desk watching as Frank smirks at him waving yet another envelope .

" I-I know Michael, but...I'd figured you'd want to be notified...since it says 'Urgent'."

For a moment Michael looks at him, his facial expression is BEYOND unreadable .

If Frank didn't know any better he would've thought he'd ofd him right where he stood, with no remorse.

He also refused to show Michael that he was weak, one sign of it and he was surely to be dethroned from his position as Michael's right hand man.

He stood there as Michael continued to stare at him, studying deeply.

"Hand it over. " Michael says, taking into his hand, walking around his desk.

Frank takes time to release his tensing breath as Michael braces himself in his seat, opening the envelope.

He couldn't help but chuckle, because THIS of all things that this woman has attempted to pull over his head...she decided to go with this.

Michael laughs to himself, laying the papers off straight into the shredder.

Frank looks at chuckling Michael, confused .

"She wants my business..,"He says lowly, looking out the window down at the meadow of daisies that laid in the flower bed below.

He couldn't wait to fire the gardener for putting them there, Reneé liked those flowers. Better yet he couldn't wait to have the next gardener rip them out of the ground from their roots.

"So, what are you thinking ?"

"I'm guessing she wants my hand as well."

"I wouldn't put it pass Mrs. Langford-Jacks—

Michael quickly snaps his neck at Frank stopping him in his tracks. "Address her for what's she is ...I don't want my name linked to that leech."

"I apologize for my inconveniencing, sir. It's a force of habit."

" Well, let's make a habit of not letting trash come from out mouths." Michael hisses playfully popping the left side of his cheek.

" Understood."

" Hell, It's practically already shredded my reputation. Now everybody thinks I'm a joke of the quarter . Especially Naveen and his people " Michael hisses lowly with an expression for thought.

"I'm sure you could refresh their minds, sir. You still haven't dealt with Issaam." Frank suggests, trying his best to sound up for it .

Issaam was the son of Issham Naveen, a corporate business owner who's been Michael's rival for a while.

He was a son once. He had no clue what Michael had up his sleeves, but he tried to brace himself.

The smirk he began to see on his face, showed that Michael was pleased. Exactly what Frank wanted.

Truly enough he was only trying to prove to himself, that what Michael saw in him was exactly what it was.

He knew though, he was nothing like that. He couldn't stand watching him do it, but what other choice does he have.

Michael eyes Frank for a while, before sitting back in his reclining desk chair, continuing to smile.

" Fraaaankie boy, you're a damn genius ."

"Exactly boss, that's why you shouldn't even worry. Until then take a load off..go out."

"Where do you suppose I go to celebrate after?"

" I have just the place ..." Frank replies.

•••

"Why am I here again?" Michael asks inquisitively in a section hiding behind his hat, highly annoyed, side eyeing the multiple half naked women that graced his presence.

They were all over the place, all different shapes, colors, and sizes. He was stopped in mere thought every now in then with the meet and greets of round, plump asses. Others not to pleasing. Breast, lots of them hanging onto dear life in the set they wore for the night. It's been years since he's been to a strip club and seen this much diversity.

Either way he wasn't amused, and already found himself to be quite bored.

His trust let him get beside himself, anyways.

The crowd was thick enough for him to hide in. Easy to slip in and out of where he resided as well.

"I thought it would be fun, ya know." Frank says moving over into a private section. " Why don't you relax, have yourself a drink?"

He didn't trust drinking with all of these money chasers in the room. It was clear he was important, sectioned of by himself high up with dancers lined up outside of that section.

He couldn't let his guard down in here . He had to stay alert .

"So one of these whores can spike my drink, I think not. " Michael says hollering back skeptically, ironically drinking from his own personal flask. He did it all in hopes that the line of women would die down.

Frank in exchange laughs . "You're way too uptight. I doubt they'd do that."

"Your certainty makes me think you're well acquainted with this facility." Michael says reading him off . "You like watching these night crawlers attempt to shake a quarter out of their assholes? Really kinky, Frankie." Michael says nonchalant causing Frank to spit out his drink laughing.

"What's the real reason I'm here ?" Michael says stoping Frank from his bursts of laughter . He could see his seriousness. "Mac, put you up to this didn't he?"

Malcolm Tucker was an old friend of Michael's when he prior to the business world...this was in his days in his apprenticeship.

They used to be friends that is.

Michael just going trust Mac with the amount of dirty work he was doing underneath.

It didn't matter if they were friends or not . All in all Mac was for himself, and would do anything to get himself further to the top. Including putting Michael in the worst positions not only as a business man but also leader of a underground organization .

He always had to be on his Ps and Qs.

Frank just breaths and looks down. In silence

"Then, where is the lousy bastard anyways?" Michael mutters.

"Well, I'll be damned . Michael fucking Jackson..." Mac says whilst walking into the section.

With a foul smell of his cologne hugging his brown Armoni suit, he greeted Michael with a smile.

"How's it been being Don Corleone...should I call you that now that you've taken over Uncle old Louis's position ?"

Michael under eyes him, "It's no mafia, Mac, it's a business." He retorts in a monotone . "And you know I don't talk that kind of stuff out in the opened."

"Well, let's go somewhere more private shall we, catch up for old time's sake." Mac yells over the music slightly just enough for him to hear, with opened arms. "I've missed ya."

Michael slow to get up, but before glancing at Frank who seems to be completely clueless of Mac's moves.

He stands from the table and straightens himself tucking his hat downwards, but not before whispering to Frank, "Have Abe and Tomas leave the car. I prefer to have them close."

"Noted." Franklin replies before taking his small phone from his pocket as Michael continued to walk away with Mac towards the stair case.