Nothing Compares

Some people spend their whole lives searching for what’s missing, not even knowing what it is. Me? I knew. I wasn’t looking for love. Not the cheap kind that comes with easy smiles and shallow promises. I’ve had all that, and it left me empty. What I wanted was something raw. Something that burned and scarred, something real enough to shake me down to the bone. I’ve always been a man who knows what he wants. That’s not arrogance—it’s survival. Life doesn’t hand out second chances, and I don’t waste time with people who can’t keep up. I move fast, think faster, and expect the world to follow. It’s a game I’ve played for a long time, and I’ve won more often than I’ve lost. But winning doesn’t mean you’re satisfied. It doesn’t mean the emptiness goes away. There’s a weight that sits on your chest when you’ve seen too much, lost too much, and built walls that not even you can climb. I’ve had wealth, power, influence—but all of it is hollow if you can’t find someone who can meet you at the edge, someone who doesn’t flinch when they see the fire in your eyes. I’ve met people like that. But they’re rare. Rarer than I expected. Most people fear the storm—they run, they hide, they pretend it doesn’t exist. And I’ve learned to respect that. Or at least, pretend to. And then I saw her. Phoenix Zika. She didn’t just walk into a room—she owned it. Not with noise or flash, but with silence, like she was daring anyone to try and measure up. People watched her, wanted her, whispered about her. And she kept them all at arm’s length. Like a flame, beautiful but merciless, daring you to touch and promising to ruin you if you did. I should’ve looked away. She wasn’t the kind of girl a man could have—she was the kind who could undo him. But I couldn’t stop watching. Couldn’t stop wanting. There was something in the way she held herself, in the way her eyes gave nothing away and everything at once, that told me she wasn’t untouchable. Not to me. Because if fire is all she knows…then I’ll be the one who walks through it. And when I finally reach her, she’ll see—nothing compares.

They say I’m untouchable. Not because I’m perfect—far from it. I’ve built walls higher than anyone could climb, armed myself with sharp edges and a heart I pretend doesn’t feel. It started as a joke once—a nickname tossed around by people who couldn’t figure me out. But it stuck, like every rumor does, until it became my truth. Untouchable. Unreachable. Cold. Whatever word makes people feel better about keeping their distance. People look at me and see fire, but they don’t realize it’s the kind that burns everything too close. That’s why no one dares to reach for me. That’s why I stay alone. But loneliness has a way of sinking its teeth into you, even when you swear you don’t care. Nights stretch long, and the silence gets loud. I tell myself it’s better this way. Safer. No one can hurt me if no one ever touches me. The truth is, I made it that way. People only take what you give them, and I’ve learned not to give much. Not my trust, my time, not my heart. Especially my heart. Because every time I handed pieces of myself to someone, they broke them, carelessly, like glass dropped on concrete. So I stopped handing them out. I learned to hold myself together. On the surface, I make it look easy. I wear confidence like a crown, keep my head high, and make sure no one ever sees me flinch. If someone gets too close, I laugh it off, cut them down with a look, and walk away before they have the chance to leave me first. It’s a system. It works. Most of the time. But sometimes, late at night, when the world is quiet and I don’t have to play the part, I feel it. The ache. The emptiness. The hollow space where something real should be. I tell myself it doesn’t matter. That I don’t need anyone. That being untouchable means being strong. Then he showed up. Xavier Lopez. Mysterious. Dangerous in a way that has nothing to do with weapons, and everything to do with the way he looks at me. Like he already knows the cracks in my armor. Like he’s not afraid of the fire, like he’s ready to walk through it just to reach me. No one’s ever dared. No one’s ever tried. But Xavier…he makes me wonder if I’ve been wrong all along. If maybe being untouchable isn’t strength—it’s a cage. And he has the key. The question is…will I let him use it?

Not too far outside of New York City

The skyscrapers faded into endless trees and lanes, a rose garden. It wasn’t grand or famous, but it felt like another world—silent, fragrant, and untouched by the noise of the city.

The sun shined brightly that day as the rose petals blossomed. My family would come to New York once a year during the summer. For whatever reason I’m not sure about. There was always a lovely rose garden not far from the city. The garden was lonely and silent. Visiting this garden was one of my childhood’s most calm and joyful memories. However, because I was young at the time, I was uninterested in flower gardens. That wasn’t until I saw her – which I only saw from a distance once a year when I went to the garden. Mother warned me not to go too far off the path because danger might follow. We lead a perilous existence, with adversaries from every corner of the globe. But the year I turned ten, I began to feel rebellious and brave – you know, when you’re all strong and nothing can hurt you? That day, I deviated from the path…and boy, she was correct. Danger did indeed follow.

Young Xavier whispered to himself as he slipped through the roses. “Mae and Pai won’t notice if I’m gone for a couple of minutes, right?” His heart pounded in his chest. “Where is she?”

There she stood in the exact spot I would find her every year. In the garden full of roses. Little red. Fitting name, isn’t it? Everything about her was red. My English wasn’t great at the time, but my mother used to tell me a story about a girl who wore a red hood and went into the forest. I think I made the link between the story’s main character and little red. Little red was a flower picking girl in the garden. It’s amazing how our little minds function. I was so mesmerized by her dedication to the color. I knew absolutely nothing about her but I felt a certain pull towards her the instant my young eyes laid on her. I stood far enough away so she wouldn’t see me but close enough to observe her. She smelt the roses as she stood there holding a bunch of them. That’s when my love for flowers ignited. Watching her stand there admiring the flowers as I admired her brought me peace. Unfortunately that was the last time I’d ever see her–before I risked my life to attempt to save a girl who didn’t know me.

Years Later

The airport’s polished floors reflected the bright overhead lights, and Phoenix adjusted her sunglasses as she walked through the terminal. Her heels clicked with measured grace, but inside her chest she felt the prick of discomfort. So embarrassing.

Tanya’s voice rang out like a siren. “FIFI!!”

Phoenix froze, shoulders tightening.

Tanya Owens, my closest friend from infancy. Her father is the governor of New York. Tanya and I are really close since my father and her father are great friends. Our personalities are really different; she is more bubbly, open and loving. I guess opposites attract but she adds energy to my life and nothing will separate us. She’s the one with whom I have the closest bond after my parents and two brothers. Most people find me intimidating but Tanya is the one of the very few people who feels at ease with me. She’s not only my best friend but also my personal assistant, keeping me informed of all my business meetings and other activities which I’ll discuss later.

Phoenix sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please stop.”

Tanya only grinned wider, sweeping across the cleared terminal with effortless charm. “Oh please, who are you embarrassed in front of? I cleared the entire section of this airport for you. But welcome back, bestie.”Despite herself, Phoenix’s lips curved. “I’m so glad to be back…it was too hot in Thailand.”

Tanya looped her arm through Phoenix’s, steering her with the same energy that had carried her since they were children. “Let’s get you back home, I have the chef cooking your favorites. By the way, your dad wants to see you at 8:00 a.m. sharp tomorrow. It sounded important.”

Phoenix groaned. “Is the old man not going to give me a break?”

Tanya replied smoothly, squeezing her arm in reassurance. “He’s just making sure you’re ready to take over the family business. Come on, your penthouse has missed you.”

The penthouse doors swung open, revealing the sweeping skyline of New York framed by floor to ceiling windows. The air smelled faintly of polished marble and fresh-cut flowers.

But to Phoenix it smelled like home. She dropped her carry-on on the velvet couch with a thud and stretched her arms high above her head. She spoke, voice filled with relief. “Home sweet home. I hate planes. So fucking crowded.”

Behind her, Tanya let out a sharp laugh, tossing her blazer onto a chair. “Bitch, you have a giant private jet. Don’t act like you were packed in coach with the rest of humanity.”

Phoenix smirked, though she didn’t bother turning around. “Still counts. Too many people. Too many hours.”

Tanya waved a dismissive hand, already heading for the elevator. “Anyways, don’t worry, you don’t have any more business deals to attempt as of right now. I’ll let you get some rest and we can catch up tomorrow. Good night.”

Phoenix called back, her voice softer now. “Night.”

I’m back in New York, baby.

Phoenix’s lips curved in a smile as she slipped out of her travel clothes and into a fitted tank and leggings. Sleep could wait. She needed to shake off the restlessness clawing at her skin. Without a second thought, she padded barefoot through the sleek halls and into her private gym, the sound of her steady footsteps echoing in the quiet like a promise.

Who am I? I’m Phoenix Zika. The daughter of a family which owns several illegal underground fighting clubs all around the world. You could say the Zika family is the largest underground fighting business. Some of the best fighters come from our clubs and are trained by our people. Inheriting the business is the destiny I’ve written for myself…soon I’ll be receiving a bigger responsibility within the business—running the fight clubs in New York. My father has decided to take a step down and go into retirement mode…he will still be running things behind the scenes and I’ll be making most of the decisions. New York is a big city and is the most popular for underground fighting. Just myself alone will not be able to run things so my older brother Theo will be my business partner. However, that’s not the only thing I have on my plate here. I’m a fighter. I fight competitively. My parents’ attempts to stop me haven’t been much successful since today I saw my older brother Alessandro fighting at one of our clubs when I was ten years old. I wanted to be just like my older brother—well I actually wanted to be better. I trained myself for the first couple of years because my parents refused to let me have a trainer. I would sneak a peek at people’s fighting sessions while my parents weren’t watching and memorize their movements and practice them and my room at night. I’m their only daughter and the youngest so they are always protective of me. I never gave up though. It wasn’t until I was thirteen that they allowed my brother to train me…he’s one of the best. They would rather me not fight but it’s just who I am. The jet lag is starting to kick in. Maybe it’s time to call it a night.

The next morning, sunlight slipped through the cracks in the heavy curtains, landing directly across Phoenix’s face. She groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around her body as if she could will the day away.

Who allowed 8:00 a.m. to exist?! It’s too early in the morning.

Phoenix’s eyes fluttered open reluctantly, and with the strength of someone fighting for her life, she sat up. “TANYA?!”

From the other side of the room, Tanya’s groggy voice carried back. “Why are you yelling so early in the morning?”

Phoenix rubbed her face and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Do I really have to meet my dad today? I am extremely jet-lagged.”

Tanya appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, one brow arched. “Yeah…no. You’re meeting your dad. I don’t want to be on his bad side…he’s scary.”

Phoenix blinked at her, unimpressed. “He’s not scary.”

Tanya shot back, rolling her eyes. “That’s because he treats you like a princess. Now go get changed. I don’t want to get fired.”

Phoenix smirked, tilting her head. “Only I can fire you.”

Tanya countered with a dramatic shrug. “Well, technically, your dad is your boss. Which makes him the boss boss.”

Phoenix groaned, dragging herself off the bed. “Ugh, whatever. I’m going to get changed.” She shuffled toward the closet, muttering under her breath.

Tanya caught the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her lips.

Across town The Zika Residence

Phoenix walked through the house like she owned every creak of the floor—because, in a way, she did. The house smelled faintly of lemon polish and old leather; sunlight pooled on the rugs as she crossed the hall and pushed open the heavy door to her father’s office. He sat behind the desk with the relaxed menace of a man comfortable in control.

He’s not even that scary. He looks like a soft bear. My father Icarus Zika, The man in charge. He’s been running the family business since he was thirty when his father, my grandfather passed down the business to retire. He’s the best father you could ever ask for. He’s kind, supportive, loyal and occasionally funny but don’t tell him I said that. And most importantly— powerful and influential. He’s one of my role models and I strive to be like him.

Phoenix stopped in the doorway and called over her shoulder with rolling bravado. “Does he need a finishing off?”

Icarus lifted a brow, a slow smile spreading. “I think your old man’s punch knocked him out cold, louloudi mou. Welcome back. I’ve missed you. Can I have a hug? You don’t need to if you don’t want to.”

Phoenix crossed the room before she could talk herself out of it. “Let me hug you, papakis.”

This doesn’t happen much…hugging. I’m extremely claustrophobic and really don’t like to be touched or feel confined by someone’s arms. So when we hug, he can’t hug back or else I’ll go into shock. The reasoning behind this is the story for another time.

Icarus’ smile softened into concern. “Thank you for this. By the way, you’re a week late.”

Phoenix shrugged with a practiced, lazy grin. “I might have decided to stay a little longer in Thailand to get my tan on.”

Icarus scolded gently. “Just tell me next time. I’ve been worried.”

Phoenix asked, folding her arms and leaning against the edge of his desk. “Well, I’m here now. What did you need to talk to me about?” she asked, folding her arms and leaning against the edge of his desk.

Icarus steepled his fingers and met her eyes. “Right. You know the Lopez drug cartel in Brazil?”

Phoenix’s chest tightened despite herself. “Yeah? What about them?”

Icarus replied. “While you were gone, I made an agreement with them.”

Phoenix blinked. “And what was this agreement?”

Icarus let the silence sit like a weight for half a second. “They have a son.”

Phoenix’s mouth dropped open before she could stop it. “You didn’t arrange a marriage, right?!”

Icarus shook his head with mild amusement. “What?! Never. If that’s what you were expecting, maybe this news won’t be so bad.”

Phoenix’s relief was short-lived. “Then what is it?”

Icarus folded his hands on the desk, voice steady. “Pedro Lopez—the leader of the Lopez cartel—will be sending his son down to New York. Our clubs will be used to store their stock while they expand into the city.”

Phoenix laughed—incredulous. “Why our fight clubs? Why not set up their own warehouses?”

Icarus’ tone was casual. “Our clubs are highly protected and numerous. We can spread the risk across locations; less chance of an attack from rivals. Pedro is an old friend. We go way back.”

Phoenix’s jaw clenched. “Fine. As long as he doesn’t get in my way, or I’ll knock him out.”

Icarus’ eyes shadowed, then he added. “There is also one more thing.”

Phoenix’s question came out before she could temper it. “What?”

Icarus replied, his voice firm. “This is a business deal. As you know, you’ll be working alongside your brother—but now you’ll also be working alongside his son. He’ll be your partner.”

The word ripped from Phoenix like a thrown punch, echoing off the wood-paneled walls. “No!!”

Meanwhile, the private jet sat hunched on the tarmac like a bullet, its engines whispering faintly in the air. Lights from the terminal painted the polished fuselage with streaks of gold and blue as the two men stood near the boarding stairs, silhouettes against the hum of late-night departures.

Zackary grinned, a flash of reckless excitement in his eyes. “And so our new adventures await us, my friend.” His voice held equal parts nostalgia and promise, as if every risk ahead had already been plotted and labeled with their names.

Xavier let out a low laugh, shoulders rolling as he tightened his jacket against the breeze. “Time to rain havoc.” The grin that followed was all teeth and mischief — the kind that meant they were both ready to set the world on fire, together.