by Fiona Cole
Grabbing two bottles of the champagne, I decided to bite the bullet and quit before I was forced out and revealed as the liar Nicholas accused me of being.
At least I could do it without the watchful eyes of the office.
It was late, but my badge should work. If it didn’t, then it wasn’t meant to be, and I’d march in tomorrow, in front of everyone, and quit, leaving my head hanging low. The image of packing up my desk with everyone’s eyes on me made my skin crawl.
Please, let my badge work.
I lifted the first bottle to my lips and clung to the other like it would save me before making my final stance for the night.
Maybe my final stance ever.
“Rush Shipping Industries, please.”
Thirteen
Nico
For every hour I was late this morning, I spent two working after.
And yet, I still had a mountain of emails to get through and files to look over. Maybe because all day my mind kept straying to Verana.
Now that I truly knew she was the vixen from the weekend, it took on a whole new meaning. Any thought of finding the woman and hoping she’d wipe Verana from my mind vanished, and all I saw was her. I saw her in my bed. I saw her peel the mask away as she sank to her knees. I saw her in my office, over my desk.
Fuck.
It was one thing to imagine and another thing to know. Now my fantasies came with a feeling that had been etched so deeply in my memory, I knew it would be with me on my dying day. Her heat, her soft skin, her moans vibrating up her neck against my lips, her hands clinging to me.
How the hell was I supposed to make it through day by day knowing all that?
Her parting words that she suggested I forget it like she would, had me both grateful and wanting to prove her wrong. That night was anything but forgettable, and my male pride reared its head, demanding a repeat.
The trilling of my phone pulled me from my thoughts.
My private lawyer’s name, Archer, popped on the screen, and I scrambled to answer it. His sole job was to work on helping me complete my revenge and takedown of Mariano Shipping. The fact that his father had lost his job when Lorenzo dismantled our family company, added to his determination to reach a mutual goal.
“Archer,” I answered.
“Nicholas,” he responded, and just from my name, I knew he didn’t have good news. “The shares went up, but the sale fell through.”
“Son of a bitch.”
This had been a rare chance at a larger chunk of shares. It’d been an opportunity I hadn’t expected, and I’d stupidly got my hopes up that my plans would be achieved sooner than planned. Now the finish line stretched further than before, and after the day, it only added to the exhaustion.
“I’ll keep my eye on them to see if anything changes.”
“Thank you.”
And with that, he hung up, leaving me with my disappointment and defeat. I dug my fingers into my eyes, trying to ease the headache I couldn’t seem to shake.
The phone rang again, this time my office line. I considered not answering it, not wanting to deal with another task today, but picked up anyway.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Rush, sorry to disturb you so late,” Hank, the front desk security, said.
I looked at the clock, seeing it was after nine. Where the hell had the time gone?
“What is it?”
“Ms. Barrone just came in, and I thought you should know. She uhh…had a bottle of champagne. She tried to hide it but didn’t do too well of a job,” he explained with a laugh like he found her attempt cute.
“Did you confiscate it? Stop her?”
“Uhhh,” he hesitated. “No, sir. She seemed harmless and had a card. But I wanted you to know as it’s so late.”
“Thank you.”
I hung up and shot from my chair, charging for the door, ready to take my frustration out on someone other than myself.
What the hell was she playing at? Was she meeting someone else for a romantic rendezvous? Not in my fucking office. It was time I caught her red-handed in her lies. It was time for her to confess she was just like I thought, trying to woo her way to the top.
Despite knowing I’d finally catch her, I slowed. I realized I didn’t want to be right.
Feeling less victorious than I thought, I made my way toward the dim light coming from the cubicles. Soft clatter and shuffling let me know she was there. Was she with someone at her desk?
“What the hell is going on here?” I growled.
She popped up with a gasp, her brown hair swaying with the jerky move. The dim lighting didn’t let me see her well, but even from afar, I could see she looked in disarray. Her hair sloppier than ever, her makeup smudged, and her shirt wrinkled with a few extra buttons undone. A hand slapped to her chest like I’d startled her, but she quickly recovered.
“Oh…hi.” Her soft greeting was quickly followed by a giggle.
A fucking giggle.
What the hell?
I rounded the corner, ready to find out who she had with her, only to find her alone with a box that held her measly belongings.
My brows furrowed. “Are you…packing up?”
“Yup,” she said with a snap of the p, completely unrepentant. She lifted the bottle of champagne, clutched in her other hand, and took a swig, facing back to her desk. Just as quickly, she turned over her shoulder. “I quit. By the way.”
As if she hadn’t dropped a bomb, she went back to organizing papers in a folder and adding them to the box.
“What? Are you drunk?”
“Sure am. Want some?” She offered me the bottle, and my lip curled in distaste.
Was that…Cooks? I turned my nose up at the bottom shelf champagne. Shaking my head and pushing the bottle away as if it was diseased, I focused on getting some answers. “Ms. Barrone, what the hell is going on here?”
“I quit,” she said again. She turned and leaned against the desk, dropping her eyes to her toe sliding around the floor. “Figured I’d clean out without an audience. Not that I have much with all of the two months of freedom.”
She scoffed the word freedom like it was a joke to her. Her hair fell over her face, only leaving a view of her lips twisted in derision. What the hell had happened between now and our meeting? She’d handled the knowledge it was me at the party so much better earlier. What had changed?
Seeing her defeated, begrudgingly softened my accusations against her—that and finding her alone. If I absolutely had to admit, maybe she was a good worker. And maybe I didn’t want her to quit, especially because of what happened.
“Look, Verana.” I sighed, dragging my hand through my hair. “You don’t need to quit because of earlier.”
Her shoulders shook, and I froze, bracing for tears I hadn’t expected. I stood like a dear in headlights until she looked up, and I realized she was laughing.
“Oh, no. It’s not because of you.” She said it like it was the craziest thing I’d said to her ever, and my irritation roared back. “My future husband won’t allow me to work. So, with my impending engagement—that I had no say in, by the way—I figured I’d quit now.”
I had to close my eyes to even try to process the wealth of information she announced. But one word made its way to the forefront of my mind: engagement.
If I thought I was angry before, it didn’t come close to the rage at thinking of her with someone else.
“Were you seeing someone when we slept together?”
“No.” She shook her head hard, her hair whipping back and forth. But then she shrugged and tipped her head. “Well, not really. It’s kind of arranged.”
“That’s barbaric.”
“Right? But it is what it is.” Her energy fell away, and her humor vanished, her shoulders dropping in defeat. “I thought it would be fine, like my parents’ marriage. I thought it would work out. At least until he showed up and was a giant dick.”
She pushed her hair back and finally looked directly at me
for the first time. Standing so close, I could see a red discoloring on one side of her cheek, and fury ignited inside me. I stepped forward, like I was readying for battle. “Did he hit you?” I asked, dangerously soft.
She touched her cheek before quickly dropping her hand and rolling her eyes. “Not like you’d care.”
“I do not condone abusing women.”
“Well, it wasn’t him.” Another shrug like she wanted to pretend it wasn’t a big deal when the reality was too much to bear. “My father didn’t take it well when I said I wouldn’t marry Camden. He took it even worse when I threw my dead mother’s disappointment in his face.”
Another barrage of information, and I fumbled to process it all. But her struggle to hide her pain pushed all of it aside.
“Verana…”
“My future husband assaulted me, and my father still wants me to marry him. Seems about par for the day.”
Finally, the first tear fell, only to be quickly wiped away. Instead of freezing like I had before, a sharp pinch pierced my chest, and I had to force myself to stand still, despite wanting to comfort her.
“What do you mean, assaulted?”
“Nothing.” She took another swig of her champagne and plopped it down on the desk with a loud thud, turning back to packing up her belongings. “By the way,” she said over her shoulder. “My real last name is Mariano. I used my grandmother’s maiden name to get the job since my father forbade me from working, you know, because of the future engagement and all that. He said he’d blacklist me, so I worked around him.”
Thankfully, she had her back to me, missing the information hitting me so hard, I stumbled back a few steps.
Mariano.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Holy shit.
She was Verana Mariano.
Lorenzo Mariano’s daughter.
Under my nose this whole time.
Of everything that came pouring out tonight in this small cubby, this almost brought me to my knees. She’d been hiding something, all right. She’d been lying this whole time. I just hadn’t been looking in the right place. No wonder she knew so much about shipping. She’d grown up in it.
My mind whirled with thoughts and ideas like a computer screen with windows opening and closing as I considered and rejected ideas. Missing out the stocks factored into each one, and the hope that vanished earlier slowly seeped back in. One idea piqued my interest, but I needed more information before shutting it down.
“So, let me get this straight,” I said in the strongest voice I could form around my shock. “Your father wants you to marry Camden Conti, his new CFO. And you don’t want to. And you used a fake name—”
“My grandmother’s name. Not fake.”
“You used a name that isn’t legally yours so you could find a job in the shipping industry without Lorenzo blocking you?”
She stopped but didn’t turn. “Yup. Sums it up. Lucky me.”
“Why here?”
At this, she did turn and gave me the full force of her dark eyes and delicate lips. “K. Rush Shipping is less known. Recently brought to the forefront of the industry and acquiring companies to grow—like Pacman,” she said with a giggle—even adding the chomping motions—before sobering to continue. “You’re on the cusp of being huge, and I wanted to be a part of it. Also, you had very little interaction with Mariano Shipping, so I assumed you’d be less likely to figure me out.”
My chest puffed with pride at her analysis of my company. She had no idea about the full history of the company. She didn’t know what the K signified. I’d worked hard to hide it in plain sight. But the future she laid out was all true and all because of me.
I watched her, the giggly, frantic energy from before gone, leaving a tired girl in its place. Defeat clung to her, and she wore it uncomfortably. I didn’t blame her. From the small time I’d known her, Verana Bar—Mariano, wore her strength like an armor. She stood tall with her back ramrod straight as if daring anyone to doubt her. Her pearls, cardigans, and sweet smiles presented a kind woman, following the rules, but somehow, with me, I saw the fiery determination beneath. She may follow the rules to a t, but she didn’t want to.
The idea from earlier expanded with the added information. It shifted and grew like a snowball down a hill, picking up pace, racing to an answer. It was a risk with zero facts behind it, but most elites distributed shares to members of their family. Surely, Verana had some too.
Before I could think it through and fully weigh the pros and cons, my lips parted, and blurted it out.
“Marry me.”
Her head jerked back. “What?”
“Marry me. If you marry me, you can’t marry Camden.” I practically sneered his name. She seemed to just be discovering what an asshole he was, but I’d always known.
“I—I can’t. My father—”
“Can’t hurt you under my care,” I interrupted, daring to reach out and run my finger along her reddened cheek. Electricity shot down my arm, and I struggled to remain still.
“Nico,” she breathed the nickname only my parents called me, and pleasure mixed with the jolt, creating a dangerous concoction I shoved aside. Now wasn’t the time. I dropped my hand and shoved both hands into my pockets to keep from repeating the process.
“Listen, Verana. Leave the box. Go home and think on it. Take tomorrow off. Then come to my place tomorrow evening for dinner, and we can discuss it more. It’s been a long day, and this isn’t a discussion to have after a bottle of champagne.”
“Two,” she muttered.
My brows shot high. Two bottles in her tiny body? Jesus…would she remember this tomorrow? Ignoring that for now, I pressed on.
“Come on. I know it sounds crazy, but just…think on it and promise we can talk.” I struggled to keep my tone neutral and not plead for her to accept the crazy idea.
God, it was so crazy. But it was crazy with a chance of victory—to replenish the opportunity I just lost. And I hadn’t gotten as far as I had without seizing every opportunity I had.
“Ummm…” She shook her head, pinching her eyes shut, and I took my chance to push the box to the corner. Not wanting to startle her, I gently rested my hand on her hip and guided her away from the cubby.
She let me lead her to the elevator and stood in silence, waiting for it to come. I glanced her way, watching her study the floor like it had the answer to the question I asked. Her lips pursed, and her brows pinched. I studied her like she did the lines in the hardwood, and I wished I knew what went on in that head of hers.
The doors slid open, and she stepped in. Before they could close, she finally spoke, “But you hate me.”
Maybe it was the hope she wouldn’t remember from all the alcohol or the raw honesty that had spilled around us tonight, but my tongue loosened, and my admission slipped free. “I don’t hate you. Far from it. I might even admire you a little.”
In the final moment, before the doors slid closed, her lips tipped in a shy smile.
With her gone, the reality of what I’d just offered roared around me.
My blood pumped harder, adrenaline flooding my veins. I’d asked Verana Mariano to marry me. She hadn’t said no. The daughter of my enemy had been under my roof this whole time, like a gift I’d yet to find.
Of all the emotions and doubt swirling around me, excitement hit me the hardest.
I just didn’t know if it was because I had an ace up my sleeve to take down my opponent or if it was because my ace was her.
Fourteen
Vera
Unknown: I’ll have a driver pick you up at 6:30.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: Nicholas Rush
Me: How’d you get my number? Or my address?
Nicholas Rush: It’s in your file.
Nicholas Rush: Or did you lie about that too?
Me: No.
Nicholas Rush: Good. See you then.
He didn’t ask if I still wanted to come or if I had any plans. He commanded.
Surprisingly, after the last twenty-four hours, I didn’t mind.
I’d waffled all day. I’d stumbled home last night and passed out, his offer barely touching the alcohol. However, when I awoke this morning, it slammed back to me like another painful slap to the face.
Along with shame, embarrassment, anger, and a whole hurricane of emotions.
I’d considered calling the office and telling him that there was no way I’d even consider his offer, but I always stopped, knowing it was a lie.
How Camden treated me, left its mark. While I may have drank until my face tingled, I’d checked my locks twice and slid a chair in front of my bedroom door just in case. And my father. I didn’t even know where to begin. Something lingered behind it all that I couldn’t see but knew was there—like an ominous shadow. Whatever it was, I didn’t care to find out. I wanted no part of it. I’d gone to him for help, and he’d hurt me. My own father. My Papa.
There is nowhere you can go that I won’t find you and drag you back kicking and screaming.
His words played on a constant loop, stopping me from packing a bag and running. All my doors closed just as I tried to open them.
So, just as fast as I’d dialed the office number, I set it aside and went back to pacing my apartment.
I’d also picked up to call Nova and Raelynn just to toss my phone in a drawer and walk away. They’d have questions I didn’t have answers to, and I had enough crowding my mind without others there joining in. I decided to wait.
So, when his order came without question, I’d almost been relieved at having the decision made for me. Besides, I could always walk out.
The driver was professional and cordial on the drive over, nice enough to not comment on my wringing hands and tapping foot.
Knowing Nicholas didn’t spend all his time in New York, I was shocked to be pulling up to a fancy building on the edge of Central Park.
