Nothing personal - !¡ TOTAL REWORK !¡

1

Song : Sweetest Ass in the World
Video belongs to : Muza Dark (YouTube)
A/N - under editing (2017)

Grishas p.o.v :

Grisha was proud of his son, and praised him so often, he had no trouble leaving his son to care for his own routines.
If he ever intended for a prosperous business, earlier on, Grisha placed his son on the working schedule.

Grisha could see the confidence, and joy it brought to his sons face, when he danced. He'd see it all the time, but when he finally brought up the subject concerning his work. Eren was hesitant, and refrained from encouraging his father's advances.

At the age of 19, Erens father decided he'd stop persisting he work fo him. Grisha was scared of those who he thought would have the pleasure of using his son for their own means.

Owning a bar/gay strip club was it's own risk, and the following year when business had gotten better, Grisha's son came from college.

the previous year Eren had attended College.
Grisha was convinced, Eren— Eren was desperate for the money, because he wasn't making ends pay for his college fees; Grisha blackmailed Eren.

Grisha, the ownner of the Strip club, had drawn in unique customers. Those unique customers, were far more interested in Eren than his establishment, for few of course.

The owner drew in a breath, and looked up. He thought, 'Now was the not the time to focus on this..' Of all his recent customers, — Those claiming they'd take Eren for themselves — he feared the one person who had the absolute power, but didn't act on it.
For those reasons, he hasn't retaliated.

Grisha stared at his supposed client with the intentions of speaking about recent holdings, but was rudely interrupted by said Client. The dread crawled it's way to the back of Grishas throat.
He'd watch them flounder from the seat, and dragged off by two body building man, clad in dark suits.

"Mr. Yeager."

Grisha couldn't help the twitch of his brow, and the reflex in his fingers. He'd squeeze onto the arms of the chair, facing the Ackerman.

Grisha watched his enemy drape his coat in the hands of his associate, waving them off. He intended to stay long.

Grisha growled under his breath, and leant back in his seat. Watching Levi, the only child of the Ackerman's, who wasn't ballsy enough to take what he wanted,— Unless it was for the benefit of the company.
What had he want now, from Grisha?

With piqued interest, Grisha leant Against the arm rest. Taking a breath with a small smirk playing at his lips.
"What could possibly have caught your eye now, Ackerman?"

The man crossed his legs, and gently place his hands in his lap. He hadn't spoken for a moment, and slowly he turned his head in the direction of the stage.
A dancer?

Grisha glanced at the stage, his eyes widening a fraction.
He saw his only child press his body against the silver rod, and his body played with the music. Teasing the audience with the shimmy of his hips, or the flick of his tongue, grazing his pearly white teeth.

Grisha attempted to hide the frown pressed firmly in places with the graze of his fingers. He'd look back at his sons supposed admirer.
He felt bothered his son had charms, that both didn't and, did help the situation.