Chapter 5 In case I need you.

Nora's POV

Molly Campbell was a renowned star whose music captivated audiences worldwide, making her the object of desire for many.

However, an unfortunate incident led to her, being dubbed 'Beauty without brains' by envious women.

Despite rumors that she traded favors with producers for fame, I knew Molly to be kind-hearted and honorable.

When I approached her to join her backup singers, she welcomed me warmly after my voice passed the test, a gesture that other celebrities had denied me.

Her generosity left a lasting impression on me. Hitherto, when her career took a downturn, so did mine as a backup singer, forcing me to work as a waitress until a life-changing opportunity arose two years ago.

Don Giovanni Dawson, the CEO of Dawson's Group, acquired this club and entrusted me with its management, along with others in different states, under certain conditions.

His associates had informed him of my connection to Molly, whom he sought.

After convincing him that I truly had no knowledge of her whereabouts, he assigned me the task, just like he did with other managers in different states and countries, despite knowing she was married.

Molly used to enjoy places like this, but ever since her scandal, she disappeared, so it wasn't surprising that Dawson bought this place in hopes of attracting her. However, his motive for this pursuit remained a mystery to everyone.

We were instructed to notify him immediately if we had any leads on her location, but as the years passed without any sign of her, my hope dwindled, especially since we had no information about Molly's husband.

Last night felt like a miracle when an IT officer alerted me about a familiar figure in the parking lot.

I hurried there and confirmed it was her, visibly distressed and eager to leave.

I managed to persuade her to stay and informed Don Dawson over the phone while fetching her a drink.

"Boss, Molly is here," I reported.

"Don't play games with me," he coldly responded, but I overheard him instructing someone to head to the Manhattan club.

Uncertain of the arrival time, I did my best to keep Molly there until he showed up, and to my surprise, she opened up to me about her situation.

My heart ached for her, and despite my fear of Don Dawson, I wished suffering upon Molly's ex-husband and sister.

My mistake was leaving her alone in her intoxicated state to use the restroom.

Upon returning, I discovered that the troublesome client in booth five had already left, according to Ursula, the waitress who reported the incident.

As I rushed back, Molly was nowhere to be found in her booth, and Ursula mentioned another peculiar incident.

Suspicions arose as I realized that the situations seemed to be resolved strangely, leading me to question Ursula's credibility.

It appeared that she might have been fabricating issues to divert my attention from Molly, who still had numerous enemies in the club due to past grievances.

Concerned for Molly's safety, I frantically asked Ursula about her whereabouts, only to be met with a shocked expression.

"Who? Who is Molly?" she asked, leaving me unfazed by her reaction, considering the urgency of finding Molly in a potentially dangerous situation.

With half the club familiar with Molly, I couldn't afford to waste time on someone who seemed oblivious to her existence.

Every moment lost increased the risk to Molly's well-being.

About to alert the IT department to check the cameras, Don Dawson arrived, using his private elevator.

"Where is she?" He demanded, his voice cold and frightening.

Ursula had disappeared into the midst of dancing customers, increasing my suspicions.

There were rumors that Don Dawson had a woman and a son, so his search for Molly was just too weird.

Not only that, his business extended into the mafia, and most people who went missing were ones who must have offended him in one way or another.

At this point, I was afraid of the worst. "Don, she went to the restroom, but I can't find her."

His pitch-black glare, filled with disappointment and pain, caused a strange weakness to cruise through my legs. I almost lost my balance.

It slowly dawned on me, the reason Don Dawson was nicknamed the devil in white. He hated dirt, and the only black thing on him was his curly hair.

To some, it was easy to recognize any dirt, for which reason Don Dawson was always clad in white, but others said it was his style of measuring strength.

If the devil in white got his attire stained in a fight, then he would accept defeat, which has never happened.

He always defeated his opponents without staining his attire.

"Find her," he ordered his bodyguards, and even with the loud music, his voice was clear.

"Any clues?" He asked me, I quickly remembered the waitress, Ursula.

"One of my waitresses told me to check on an emergency twice, and both times I did, but they had been resolved, or there was nothing to begin with."

I didn't have to explain further. He already understood what I meant.

"Get her."

I easily found Ursula and silently led her to the booth. Don Dawson gave me a stern look, and I knew what he wanted, so I kicked Ursula in the stomach.

She winced in pain, letting out a groan. "Tell me where Molly is, or you'll get more," Don Dawson growled.

It was no secret that a kick from Don Dawson could be fatal. Trembling like a frightened animal, Ursula whispered, "Room 403. It wasn't me..."

Don Dawson passed by her and ordered, "Lock her up." I was about to follow his command when he stopped me.

"You're coming with me.

Zak, lock her up. Nelson and Jace, come with me."

We trailed behind him, and when we reached room 403, Don Dawson's powerful kick sent the door flying, showcasing the reason for his nickname. Who could survive such force?

He was always cold, but now he seemed angrier than ever.

His bodyguards swiftly subdued two men before I spotted Molly in just her underwear. Tears welled up in my eyes.

"Don't kill them yet," Don Dawson's icy voice lingered in the room.

If we had hesitated even for a moment, Molly would have been in grave danger.

Don Dawson was visibly shaken, his usually composed demeanor faltering. In a surprising move, he removed his white jacket and draped it over Molly.

To my astonishment, he then lifted her gently in his arms. Even his bodyguards, who had returned from securing the two men, were taken aback by his unexpected display of care.

His voice when he spoke to her was different from how he spoke to anyone else. "It's okay.

You're safe now. No one will hurt you again."

"I heard Molly mutter, 'Fuck me,' in a voice that didn't sound like hers, and it dawned on me that she had been drugged, and it was my fault. I should never have left her alone, no matter what the emergency was.

But then again, Don Dawson wouldn't take advantage of her, would he?

He carried her to the presidential suite and gestured for me to follow. "Prepare the bath," he commanded, with his bodyguards waiting outside the door.

I complied, and he took her to the bathroom, motioning for me to come along. Molly was submerged in the cold water before he left the room.

I took over from there, cleaning her up and dressing her in a gown. When I finished, he returned to carry her to bed.

"That's all for tonight, but you'll be sleeping in the adjacent room in case I need you."