Chapter 3

𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀

The car door slams, but it barely has any effect because the person who just did that is so small. I almost laugh, but I don't.

I barely even blink.

Her sharp words, deceptively calm under that soft voice of hers ring in my head, “I hope you rot, you manipulative bastard.”

She used to seem so proper, when did Miss Vance start swearing?

I rake my hands through my hair.

Our interaction though horrendous is the least of my concern.

I saw Nichole.

She was standing across the street near a cafe, with her phone clutched tightly in one hand, and an oversized sunglasses failing to hide the ridiculous wig she probably thought made her discreet.

It's been months since I've heard from her. Our last interaction was dramatic to say the least.

She'd come to my house in a silly skimpy dress, trying to seduce me. I was irritated, so irritated, I had my security team throw her out of my house screaming and kicking, late in the night.

I thought that would have drilled the memo into that thick skull of hers, it was over between us. But apparently it didn't. And she re-stratigized, returned and was going to pull that same stunt this time, infornt of witnesses.

I'd forgotten how cunny she could be.

That's why, to best her at her own game, I grabbed the tiny woman in front of me and kissed her like my life depended on it.

Seeing another woman in my arms should be more than enough. And this woman not being my regular type, should have her rethinking maybe.

I lean back against the seat and exhale, dragging a hand down my face.

Idiota.

I managed to diffuse the situation with the girl by letting the subject focus on her father. But if she remembers what happened, which she definitely would, she might decide to sue.

I can't deal with any more law suits at this time. Eyes are on me, so many people are waiting for me to make one single mistake, so the vultures can swoop in and wreck all I've built.

I glance at the driver. “Take the long route.”

“Yes, sir.”

I tap the screen in front of me. “Call Francesca.”

It rings once.

“Sir.” Her voice is brisk and alert, as usual.

“I want a deep profile on Glover Vance’s daughter. Education. Criminal records. Job history. The whole tree. She came to my building this morning.”

"Glover Vance daughter?" She asks in response.

"Yes. She was at the office today, and I need to have everything you can get on her in the next 24 hours."

“Ah. So that’s what the front desk was panicking about,” she mutters.

I didn't know she entered the building.

"She caused a scene?" I ask.

"No. The receptionist handled it well."

“Full report,” I say. “By end of day.”

“Noted."

“Also, call the lawyer. Schedule a meet with him this evening. It's urgent."

Francesca pauses. “Yes sir. Sir, is there something going on? You never ask for the lawyer.”

I close my eyes. What do I tell her? That I kissed someone without her consent and a sexual assault case might be in the works?

I don't tell her that, instead I brush her off, reminding her to ensure the tasks I've given her is completed before tomorrow.

Then I end the call.

***

Moments later, we pull up to the private lounge on 5th where I’m supposed to be hosting a lunch with three foreign investors and the CEO of a Swiss crypto firm. I don’t get out.

I remain in the car for a moment, staring at my own reflection in the tinted glass.

I used to be better than this. I never do things without thinking things through.

Damn you Nichole.

Who are the people even edging her on? I already know the answer to that question and it irritates me to no end.

I pull up my international contacts, I see the number of one of the culprits, my elder sister, Luciana, but instead of tapping it, I scroll pass and hit a number labeled Casa Moretti, Direct.

It connects after the second ring.

“Signore Moretti, how are you?.” Rina’s voice is gentle.

“Ciao, Rina. Is she awake?"

“No, signore. She fell asleep half an hour ago. No pain. She had a light lunch and wanted her Verdi album on loop again.”

“Good.”

I don’t say anything more. Just listen. The background is quiet except for faint music, La Traviata. My mother’s favorite.

“Grazie,” I murmur. “Call me if she wakes.”

“I will.”

I end the call and finally step out of the car.

***

It’s 3:52 PM when Francesca calls again. I answer immediately.

“You already have the re...”

“Mr Dante. Check your phone. Now.” she sounds very frantic. It's odd. Francesca is never frantic.

“I don’t follow social media. That’s your job.”

"I'll send you images then."

Before I can say anything, my screen explodes with notifications, texts, emails and alerts.

Then images.

One by one, they start flooding in through our secure chat line.

Francesca isn’t even bothering with a warning anymore. Just dumping them.

And then I see it.

Me.

Kissing Miss Vance.

Outside my building.

Clear daylight. Angle-perfect. Close-up. High-res.

Her scarf slipping back. My hand on her cheek. Her eyes frozen mid-shock. The shot looks intimate.

MYSTERY WOMAN OR NEW LOVER?

IS THIS THE END OF THE NICOLE-VERSE?

FORBES BILLIONAIRE CAUGHT IN UNEXPECTED ROMANCE

I scroll. More images, people quoting it, I*******m tags, t*****r edits and reddit threads popping up.

I can't understand how fast things fly on the Internet. When did I kiss her? It's not even been up to an hour.

Francesca calls back and I answer instantly.

"This is bad Mr Moretti. If this is the reason for the lawyer, then it's really bad”

I curse under my breath. “I know that Francesca .”

“I think it's best I contact her so she can be settled into keeping silent?”

"No! Just get me her information and call my lawyer now! Tell him to meet me at my place now."

"Yes sir."

"Tell Anita to get started on damage control. I want this to be snuffed out before the end of today. Pay whoever you have to, ensure I don't see this before the end of today."

She sighs. "Yes sir."

“And Francesca?”

“Sir?”

“I want Nicole blacklisted.”

She goes silent.

“Every event. Every firm. Any press we own stock in. She doesn’t get through the door.”

A pause. “You got it.”

I hang up.

The driver looks at me through the mirror.

“Sir?”

“Take me home.”

I rest my head against the window as we pull off, watching the city blur past.

Nichole.

I won't be surprised if she tipped those photographers. I'm hundred percent sure that the kiss with the girl, it would have been with Nichole if I hadn't acted fast.

I drag my hands over my face.

I don't not need this bullshit at this point in my life.