I pushed open Grace's door and stopped dead.
Perfect Grace. All dolled up, hair glossy, makeup immaculate, staring at herself in the mirror like she was inspecting the reflection of a goddess. Pink everywhere, every frill and ribbon in its place, the air practically screaming princess. it felt like being suffocated by a cotton candy cloud.
I raised an eyebrow. "Uh… is today the wedding? Or are we just… hosting a royal gala in your room?"
Grace spun around, eyes wide. "Nicole! My wedding dress can never be this plain!"
I blinked. Plain? The thing looked like it belonged in a museum, not a casual Thursday.
She wasn't in a ballgown, but she wasn't in casual wear, either. The dress was a deep emerald silk, simple in its cut yet clearly tailored to perfection, catching the light like a trapped jewel. Grace looked utterly regal. Definitely something someone could wear for a wedding. Maybe too underdressed for an Italian mafia wedding tho but still.
"Ok, now i wonder how your wedding dress would be like. Where are you going anyways?"
"My wedding dress will require its own security detail and possibly a small crane." Grace said and only the thought of it made me laugh. A crane indeed.
"This is for… for a visitor. Papa said someone important is coming over." she adds, stuttering a bit.
Which was weird because she only stutters when she's about to tell a lie.
"A visitor? Who?" I asked, flopping onto the end of her absurdly large canopy bed.
She smoothed the silk over her hip. "He didn't say."
So that was why she was stuttering.
I gave her a look that would melt steel. "Oh, come on, Grace. You're lying."
"You look like you're dressed to win the Miss Universe pageant. Who is it? Is it the Pope? The Russian President? Wait, I know! You got all dolled up to woo a secret, dashing billionaire who's going to swoop in and save you from the Leonardo Greco alliance, right? The classic princess in distress move. You're going to steal his heart before the week is out."
Grace actually giggled, a tiny, delicate sound. "You're impossible, Nicole."
A sharp knock on the door cut us short.
"Come in," Grace said, adjusting her posture immediately.
The door opened to reveal Sergei, one of the few younger, non-intimidating guards I was genuinely fond of. He had a slight, sad droop to his mustache but a kind smile.
"Miss Grace," he said, his Russian heavily accented but respectful. "Your father requires your presence immediately in the main living room."
Grace nodded, giving herself one last satisfied look in the mirror. "Thank you, Sergei."
I jumped off the bed. "Great, I'll come too."
Sergei, however, moved smoothly to block the doorway. It was playful, but his expression was serious. "Nyet, malyshka. The boss… wants you to remain in your room until he says otherwise. Food will be brought to you, and anything you require, just call for it."
(Nyet: No) (Malyshka: Baby)
Grace gave me a helpless, apologetic look and slipped past him.
"Seriously, Sergei?" I tried to peer around his large shoulder, but he was a human wall.
"Why am I being sequestered? Who is the big secret visitor? Tell me."
He shook his head, the same infuriating, serene denial I got from Grace. "I don't know, Miss Nicole. The boss's orders."
"You do know!" I accused him, narrowing my eyes. "You're a terrible liar. Why is no one telling me anything? I'm going to be bored to death locked in here with all this… this pink fluff."
Sergei actually chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "You have your phone, malyshka. Be a good girl. I will go see if they require me downstairs, and if not, I will come back and keep you company, yes?"
I sighed, realizing he wasn't going to budge. I started backing into the room, but then changed my mind. "Fine. At least let me go to my own room. Grace's room is suffocating me."
Sergei's eyes rolled slightly, a familiar gesture. He hesitated, clearly debating the command, then gave in. "Quickly. Go to your room and lock yourself in. I cannot walk down there with you right now. I must report back downstairs first."
I nodded convincingly and headed down the hall toward my own, far less frilly, sanctuary. Sergei watched until I was out of sight, then turned toward the main staircase.
The second his heavy footsteps faded, I turned on my heel and moved to the edge of the second-floor balcony overlooking the grand living room.
I was going to find out who this mysterious, alliance-worthy guest was.
---
I crept down the last few steps, keeping to the shadows of the immense foyer. The main living room doors were wide open, and the voices were low, cordial, and deep. I moved silently to the edge of the archway and peered in.
Papa was standing by the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantle. Mama and Grace were seated stiffly on the sofa. And facing Papa, standing with a casual arrogance that was sickeningly familiar, was a man.
My boss.
I froze. Then, a slow, predatory grin stretched across my face. I stepped fully into the room, pointing a stiff, accusatory finger at the man who had ordered me to "shut the fuck up" just days ago.
"You!" I practically spat, the word laced with pure adrenaline and rage. I turned to my stunned father, who was staring at me like I was a ghost. "Papa, if this man has come here asking for a favor, whatever it is, don't do it! He is the most arrogant, self-centered—"
"Nicole!" Papa roared, a sound that rarely happened and always commanded instant obedience.
"Sshh, Nicole!" Grace whispered, her hand instinctively tugging at the edge of my simple grey crop top and jeans, an outfit completely unsuited for any formal meeting.
Mama simply slapped her hand against her forehead, the thwack of flesh against bone expressing her utter disgust with my existence.
The boss, my former boss, the man in the perfectly tailored suit, merely stood there, a dark, amused smirk playing on his impossibly handsome face.
"What are you doing here?" I challenged him, my eyes blazing, ignoring the rising panic in the room. "Seriously, forget it."
"Whatever favor you've asked my father for, you can forget it. Get out!"
"Mi dispiace," my father began, stepping forward to apologize to his guest, but the man raised a hand, stopping him.
(Mi dispiace: I'm sorry.)
"No, Dimitri," my former boss said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Let her continue. This is… entertaining."
Furious, I turned on him again. "You have absolutely no right to tell my father what to do! Do you even know who he is? Do you have a slight idea who you are talking to?"
Sergei suddenly appeared behind me, his hand settling firmly on my shoulder. "Miss Nicole, please. The boss ordered you—"
I shrugged his hand off violently. Mama was now glaring daggers that promised a painful demise, and Grace was just whispering my name repeatedly, tugging uselessly at my clothes.
My father's face was now a mask of pure, murderous fury, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. "NICOLE! Enough!"
That shout finally got through my rage-fueled haze, but it didn't shut me up entirely. "No! I will not be quiet! Papa, this is the man! The wicked, self-centered bastard I told you about! The one who told me to shut the f***k up and had a guard almost pull a gun on me!" I sucked in a furious breath. "He's the one you said you would wipe his name from the Earth!"
Grace, recognizing the final, damning phrase, clamped her hand hard over my mouth, stopping the flood of my words.
Mama's voice, cold and laced with triumph, finally cut through the silence. She stared at me, then gestured with an imperious wave toward the man who had been my boss for two weeks.
"You are always causing trouble," Mama enunciated, her lip curling in a sneer, "This man is Leonardo Greco."
The name hit me, a slow, sickening realization. Greco. Leonardo Greco. The ruthless heir to the Italian Mafia, here for an alliance.
I peeled Grace's hand from my mouth, my gaze snapping back to the man.
Fuck
He was standing there with that dark, predatory smirk.
My terrifying, arrogant, dangerously handsome boss… was Leonardo Greco????
I had just pointed a finger at the heir of the Italian Mafia, the man my father needed an alliance with, and threatened him with my father having his head-on-a-table speech.
Wipe his name from the Earth talk?
The room spun. Hell no.