Chapter 2 - Niccola Fairchild

Niccola Fairchild POV

Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. I know people might think it’s stupid, and some people even believe you can live without breakfast, but not me. This is my happy place, my happy time. Sitting in my kitchen with my coffee and my Greek yoghurt full of fruit and granola.

Humans are creatures of habit, and I am no better than anyone else. I love my routine, and having breakfast is where it all begins. I open my laptop to read the world's news and almost choke on my first sip of coffee, reading the headline in front of me.

“Fairchild Enterprises Roaming for closure.” My eyes widen, and I shake my head, trying to push away the memories I had running through those corridors every time I would go see my father as a child. I shouldn’t be surprised; after all, everything my mother touches gets destroyed.

Closing my laptop, I take a deep breath before finishing my breakfast without reading another word of the news. Surely the day can’t get any worse than it already is. “I swear your mother should be run over by a bus,” Steph says as soon as I bring my phone to my ear, as I put my docs on. I can’t help but laugh as I agree with her.

“Good morning to you too,” I say as I close my leather jacket, holding my phone between my shoulder and my ear.

“No time for that, we have a meeting in ten minutes,” Steph says, and I frown, looking at my wristwatch and frown. I don’t remember having any meetings this morning. Before I can say anything, Steph speaks again, “It’s a new wedding, received the booking around two in the morning.”

“A message would’ve been nice,” I say, and I can almost hear Steph’s eye roll through the phone.

“Good morning, Giles,” I say as he opens the building door for me with a smile and a head nod.

“Tell him that someday I am going to marry him,” Steph shouts on the phone, and I look at Giles, who laughs lightly. Giles is our youngest doorman in the building, and Steph is fond of him. What can I say? She likes the tall, dark, and dangerous guys.

“I am already taken, but thank you for inflating my ego,” Giles says, winking at me, and I smile as I walk out of the building. My bike is parked waiting for me outside. Giles loves riding it, and I don’t mind as he pulls it at the front for me.

“Okay, I am not a messenger, I’ll see you in fifteen,” I say, but before I can end the call, Steph replies. “Make it in ten or I will kill you.”

I inhale deeply, placing the phone into my pocket after connecting it to the speakers inside my helmet, blasting my favourite tune at the moment from Bad Omens. Riding in San Diego at this time can be chaotic sometimes, but I enjoy the ride. It’s like I am on autopilot.

Arriving at the office, I frown as I see two Limos waiting outside and shake my head. Probably another celebrity trying to book us for their wedding. Some of them drive all the way from L.A. to see us, just so the papas don’t get a glimpse of who they are speaking to. Not that travelling with a Limo wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention. Noobs.

“Good morning, Miss Fairchild,” Thomas says, and I offer him a small smile as I let out “Nicci” between gritted teeth and pass him my helmet and my leather jacket as he passes me the folder for the meeting. I am already three minutes late. I look over the pages as he vomits the requirements for the event, and I can’t help but gag.

We are not the most traditional event planners. We deal with high-end customers and venues, but our parties tend to be more alternative and out of the box than traditional, and what this client is asking is a fairytale wedding. Literally a fairytale. Gag. Carriage, horses, white, tule.

“I am sorry I am late,” I say as I open the conference room door and stop on my tracks. Thomas slams against my back and immediately backs away, apologizing, but I can’t even look at him. I can’t believe what I am seeing.

“Finally, Niccola, do you know how unprofessional it is to make a client wait? I was hopeful that you would be here on time, not knowing I was the one requesting your services,” my mother says, and I can’t help but bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t tell her to fuck off immediately.

I look at Steph, who has lost all the colour on her face as she looks between me and my mother. We look nothing alike, as I ditched the blonde hair that made us look similar years ago, and I always tell people I am not that Fairchild. I am not related to the monster in front of me.

I inhale deeply and enter the room, crossing my arms in front of my chest immediately, trying to keep my hands to myself and not around her skinny ass neck. My mother raises her head higher if that’s even possible and rests her hands on the table as she crosses her legs, staring at me. “Aren’t you going to sit down, darling?” She says, and those words send a chill down my spine.

“What are you doing here, mother?” I spat the words in disgust.

“Don’t use that tone with me, Niccola, after all, I am a client, and I am willing to pay whatever price you come up with for this event,” she says, and I can’t help but scoff.

“I am not doing this,” I say, and my mother spins slightly on her chair as she uncrosses her legs and stands.

“That’s where you’re mistaken, these documents say otherwise,” she says, placing some papers on the table, and I frown slightly, looking at Steph, who immediately rubs her forehead as if a headache were forming.

“What is that?” I ask, and my mother offers me the fakest smile I have ever seen in my life, and I know I have lost any battle I was willing to fight.

“A contract that says otherwise. You should make sure the people that work for you don’t make you sign papers before you read them, sweetheart,” she says, and I look around the room and frown. Steph leans on the desk, grabs the papers, and lets out a breath I didn’t know she was holding as her eyes widen and she shakes her head slightly, looking defeated as her eyes move from me to Thomas, who steps past me and walks to my mother, who smiles with her arms open.

“I missed you, sweetheart. Now go fetch me a coffee because it seems like no one here knows how to treat a client with my calibre.” My mother says, and I feel like the floor has been taken from under me as Thomas nods and walks past me, doing what she says. What the fuck just happened?