"I made a mistake in the black book. He had asked me not to touch it but… but I thought I could handle the accounting. I asked for help but still..." I continued to hold Nico's gaze even as his expression went completely blank and unreadable, yet I forced myself to keep speaking.
"You were his favorite! He was ignoring me and barely paid any attention… I—I was convinced he would kill me. It was his life's work!" I whispered, holding the tears in as they gathered in my eyes without falling.
"How did a mistake in accounting lead to billions of dollars missing?" he asked, a trace of confusion appearing on his face, and I answered immediately.
"I needed help. You were busy with father and I got someone online. A drive arrived and I plugged it in," I said, lifting my head to meet his cold dark gaze, waiting for judgment to fall—and it did.
"That's fucking stupid," he said.
"I was sixteen!" I muttered under my breath, biting my lips until I tasted blood, especially since that was only half of it. The rest of the truth stayed buried deep inside me, the part I would never say out loud. It was the reason I had dedicated the rest of my life to being better… to doing better.
"I'll owe you a favor! Anything!" I instantly told him, lifting my head with a hardened, determined look.
Nico and I had been inseparable at one point, closer than anyone else in the world, but I didn't dare expect the same now. Too much had changed. Too much had been lost. At this point a bit of civility from him would be more than enough.
A strange silence settled between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I didn't dare speak again, simply standing there and waiting quietly to hear what he had to say next. I felt more relieved than I wanted to admit when he finally did speak.
Taking a step back, his gaze softened slightly—not warm, not forgiving, but no longer as harsh as before. The coldness, however, remained.
"You'll owe me and I'll cash it in," he said slowly, enunciating each word carefully as if he wanted me to fully understand what I was agreeing to.
I nodded my head immediately to show that I accepted.
I stood there silently as I watched him move back toward his chair, gripping the back of it as he positioned himself behind it before speaking words I had least expected.
"For a million dollars, you'll accompany me to a charity event tomorrow."
For a brief moment I was taken aback, my attention fully focused on him as I processed what he had just said.
"You can refuse…" he added.
But I knew better than to do that. Moreover, if it was something I would have done for free, then there was no real reason to refuse.
"I'll come," I responded, already mentally calculating how many millions remained for me to pay back my debt as I watched him nod his head, making it clear that he was about to leave.
"Then our conversation is over," he said as he moved to walk past me, clearly meaning that whatever else needed to be discussed would be talked about another time.
He had just reached the door and was about to open it when I spoke.
"What about the food?" I asked.
Only then did I realize he hadn't once touched a spoon, and recalling everything that had just been said between us, there was absolutely no way I would eat any of it unless I was certain I was safe.
I was stunned when he responded by glancing back at me, his eyes dark and cruel when he spoke the next words.
"I poisoned it all. If you had lied to me… I would have killed you. I can always make more money."
His gaze made it clear just how serious he was right before he stepped out and slammed the door behind him.
My heart hammered loudly in my chest as I stood there for a moment, frozen in place. I didn't look at the dishes even once before I walked out, suddenly realizing just how close I had come to dying.
I knew Nico could be crazy, but clearly it had only gotten worse.
My hands balled together as I fought the fear tightening around my chest.
It wasn't until I got back to my room, with the maid silently leading me there before taking her leave, that I realized the true meaning of being famished.
With no other choice left, I stepped back out into the hallway, relieved when the guard didn't bar my way or send me back to my room.
Still, I needed instructions.
"Can you point me in the direction of the kitchen?" I asked. It was late, but if they had been able to make the food that had just gone to waste, then they were bound to have leftovers that were still edible.
"Go left, then down the stairs to the first floor. You can also ask any of the maids," he responded with a polite nod.
'His guards are civil… ex-military?' I wondered silently as I nodded back before heading in the direction he had given me.
The mansion was huge. Well built and expensively decorated. Everything about it screamed wealth. From the polished marble floors beneath my feet to the carefully crafted railings along the stairs. Even the ceilings had not been ignored, stunning chandeliers hanging from them and casting warm light across the hallways.
But as much as I wanted to stare and admire everything, I was far too hungry to linger. I hurried my steps and headed straight toward the kitchen, occasionally asking directions from the guards I passed since the servants seemed to have already retired for the night.
It didn't take long before I finally found the kitchen section.
To my relief, it was empty.
Still, I headed straight toward the fridge and the massive freezer, opening them eagerly and feeling immediate relief at the mountain of food I found inside.
Containers, trays, and leftovers from what looked like a full banquet were stacked neatly inside.
Bringing them out one after the other, I began warming what I could, preparing to eat and devour everything within reach.
I had just made a plate and placed it inside the microwave when I heard footsteps approaching me.
They weren't quiet. The sound of them was heavy and rough, nothing like Nico's controlled, silent movements, so at first I assumed it must be one of the guards.
But when I lifted my gaze, I froze slightly.
A tall, muscular man walked in.
He was covered in tattoos, one of which I immediately recognized as gang affiliated, and he carried himself with the kind of confidence that suggested he believed he owned the place.
'A territory manager?' I thought briefly, only to discard the idea almost immediately.
Territory managers were smart. They had to be. His head was held too high and his shoulders were squared too proudly for someone who understood how to keep a low profile.
'Muscle, then?' I wondered, questioning what he was doing in here as I sat by the counter on one of the many stools.
Still, I ignored him. It wasn't any of my business if Nico gave his men free rein around his house.
But that was until he spoke to me.
"Make me something, woman!" he snapped, running his hands through the short mass of his hair as he walked further into the kitchen.
Maybe it was the fact that I had just experienced one of the worst days of my life and somehow it still wasn't over. The urge to lash out rose instinctively, sharp and immediate.
But I slowly fluttered my eyes shut, forcing myself to breathe before reacting.