An Ex-Thug Chased by Enchanting Billionaire Women

Chapter 2: The Giant’s Job Interview

The night was late, past midnight, in fact, but Samson was still walking along the roadside alone. He was only just heading home after a second day of job hunting, which, once again, had yielded no results.

"Mom, should I just give up on going straight? Finding honest work is so hard," Samson grumbled, kicking a stone. It rolled into the street, and there, Samson spotted a car being chased by three suspicious motorcycles.

Samson stopped in his tracks. His eyes, sharp as a night hawk’s, narrowed instantly. "What’s this?" he muttered.

The three bikes accelerated, attempting to sandwich the luxury car in the middle of the deserted road. One of the riders swung an iron chain at the car’s side mirror, shattering it into pieces. The car swerved, trying to evade them, but its room to maneuver was shrinking.

"Hey, you rats! Stop right there!" Samson’s roar thundered, piercing the silence of the night.

However, the thugs didn't care. They felt they had the advantage in numbers and weapons. One of the motorcycles managed to overtake the car and braked suddenly, forcing the car to a halt with a heart-wrenching screech of tires.

SCREEEEEECH!

Three men got off their bikes, each wielding a sharp weapon.

"Get out! Hand over all your valuables!" one of them barked while slamming a wooden plank onto the car’s hood.

A woman’s scream, filled with terror, echoed from inside the car.

"Hey, how dare you ignore me? And since when is it brave to gang up on a girl?" Samson shouted, walking closer with a relaxed gait. "You’d better leave now, before I give you an early retirement from the world of mugging," Samson said in a low, threatening voice.

One of the thugs, the shortest but the most arrogant, turned around. "Who are you, Giant? Don't try to be a hero unless you want your guts spilled!"

Without another word, the thug charged at Samson with a folding knife in his hand. Samson didn't flinch; instead, he stepped forward. As the knife nearly reached his stomach, Samson caught the man's wrist and gave it a slight squeeze.

CRACK!

"Aaagh! My hand!" the thug shrieked. The knife fell with a metallic clang.

Samson then swung his hand, giving the man a single flick on the forehead.

BAM! The man was instantly sent flying backward, tumbling like a fallen fruit before passing out cold on the asphalt.

"See, I told you to stop. One flick and you're already K.O.'d."

The other two thugs stared agape. "Crazy! That’s not a human!"

"Hey, you two! Come on, fight me, the mighty Samson!" he shouted, thumping his broad, muscular chest.

"Run! That’s Samson! The King of Thugs!" yelled one of them who recognized him.

The two immediately jumped onto their bikes and sped off, leaving their unconscious comrade behind.

Samson just snorted. "Tsk, that’s all the courage you've got?" he grumbled, dusting off his hands, which didn't have a single scratch.

He then walked toward the driver’s side of the luxury car and tapped on the window. The glass rolled down slowly, revealing a beautiful woman with brownish-blonde hair who looked pale with fear.

"I-I’m sorry, thank you so much," Rose said, her voice trembling. She looked at Samson in disbelief. The man before her looked terrifying, yet he had just saved her life.

Samson tried to give a friendly smile, which unfortunately still looked like an invitation to a duel. "It’s nothing, Miss. It’s my duty anyway. Uh, I mean, I just happened to be passing by."

Rose took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Her eyes began to take in Samson’s extraordinarily powerful build. A sudden idea popped into her head. "Do you... do you have a job?"

Samson scratched his head. "Actually, I’m looking for one. Haven't had any luck yet," he replied.

"In that case, would you like to work for me?" she asked without hesitation, catching Samson off guard.

"W-work, Miss? Doing what?" Samson asked.

"This is my business card." The woman handed it to him. "Come to my office tomorrow; we will discuss a job for you."

"Um, alright, Miss. Oh, can I bring my crew?" Samson asked.

"Your crew?" The woman knitted her brows in confusion.

"Oh, I mean, my colleagues," he chuckled.

"Yes, fine. Just come tomorrow and bring your identification cards," she said.

"Understood, Miss."

"I'll be going then," the beautiful woman said, taking her leave.

"Yes, Miss. Just keep driving straight. If anyone chases you again, head straight for a crowded area. This area is notorious for muggers," said Samson, who was actually the boss who controlled the territory and whose men usually did the mugging before he disbanded his gang.

"Stay safe, Miss!" Samson called out once more, waving his massive hand as the luxury car sped away.

Samson stood alone in the middle of the road, staring at the card in his hand. It bore a short but elegant name: Rose, CEO of Roseland Corp.

"Man, even her business card smells like money," Samson muttered, inhaling the scent of the premium paper. "Mom, I think tomorrow Samson is finally going to work and earn some honest pay."

Samson, Bejo, Gopar, and Ucok were gathered in front of a towering skyscraper in the city center. They looked like a circus troupe that had lost its way. Samson wore the most polite batik shirt he owned, though his chest buttons looked severely strained; Bejo wore a thin leather jacket, Gopar carried a backpack full of snacks, and Ucok wore a turquoise suit with sunglasses perched on his head.

"Boss, are you sure the security won't kick us out?" Bejo whispered, intimidated by the guards who stood tall and firm, though still nowhere near Samson’s size.

"I’ve got the magic card," Samson answered confidently, showing Rose’s business card.

As soon as they entered the lobby, all eyes were on them. Samson walked at the front with an unshakable "boss" aura. The beautiful receptionist even swallowed hard as Samson stood before her.

"Excuse me, Miss. I’m here to see Miss Rose," Samson said, trying to lower his volume so as not to shatter the lobby windows.

"Do you have an appointment, Sir?" the receptionist asked, her voice trembling.

"Here is the appointment," Samson said, placing the gold-embossed business card on the desk.

Seeing the card, the receptionist’s expression shifted 180 degrees. "Where did you get this card? "Don't tell me you stole it," she accused him.

"Watch your mouth, Miss. Miss Rose gave this to me herself and told me to come here today," Samson replied.

The receptionist looked Samson and his friends up and down, her gaze clearly filled with disdain and doubt.

"I’m sorry, Sir. You cannot see Ms. Rose without an appointment," she said firmly.

"I have an appointment. Ms. Rose herself asked me to come. Try calling her first," Samson ordered, feeling offended by the woman’s condescending look.

"I can't. Ms. Rose is busy. You should just leave," she dismissed them.

"Leave?" Samson repeated the word, his tone turning sour. He tried to remember his mother’s advice to always be patient, but this receptionist was truly testing his faith.

"Miss, I came all this way to find honest work. Samson said softly but with heavy pressure, 'Don't let my good intentions turn into bad ones.'"

Hearing that, the receptionist panicked and hit the emergency button under the desk. Within seconds, four burly security guards in full uniform surrounded Samson.

"What’s going on here?" asked one of the senior guards, whose name tag read Bambang. He stared at Samson defiantly, though he had to look way up because Samson was much taller.

"This, Sir! They’re forcing their way in and threatening me. They have Ms. Rose’s card; God knows where they snatched it from!" the receptionist cried.

Bambang looked at Samson cynically. "Look, you and your friends better leave now. Don't cause trouble in this building. People here are working, unlike unemployed people like you."

"Why, you little!" Bejo, having lost his patience, grabbed the guard's collar and was about to throw a punch.

"Stop, Bejo!" Samson barked.

"I can't, Boss! This guy insulted us!"

***