Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
___________
Vito
The gathering is packed. Businessmen and businesswomen stand with champagne glasses in their hands, powerful politicians with their dates, and rich celebrities hanging around other rich people.
This room alone can make up the one percentile of the wealthy population with ease.
I didn’t think this would be a beneficial gathering for Fia. She doesn’t need money or fame, but this is what her manager wanted. Fia isn’t the type to push people away, and it’s a flaw of hers that I find endearing, but it’s going to come back to bite her ass later.
She’s too kind to these greedy bastards.
I take the sparkling water from her hands as she finishes. The harsh lights from the chandelier are taking the moisture from her skin and being in a social meeting with others will get her thirst level to rise.
This is her fifth glass of water, but she has no intention of stopping.
“Miss. Nash, I am a big fan of your music!” A woman’s face brightens up when she comes up to us.
Fia stutters briefly at the powerful aura she gives off and sheepishly smiles back the best she can.
“T-thank you! I do my best,” Fia replies with a handshake.
“I will support your performance tomorrow. It is not every day we see talent like you!” the woman compliments with a smile on her red lips.
She has not acknowledged me once, nor did she give a customary nod to greet me, but that would be expected from someone who had grown up rich. The woman doesn’t understand common courtesy because she stands with her nose tilted up to the ceiling.
I take no offense because she will be forgotten as she is no threat to Fia. She just has money in her mind because getting Fia on her side will undoubtedly bring attention.
Fia is one of the most well-loved women that’s circulating on trending topics. She doesn’t wear revealing clothing or does extreme scandals to bring attention to her.
Humbly speaking, she is the girl next door. Pure and respectful, a beauty that withstands provocative social media influencers. On the appalling and offensive side, she can be seen as a fantasy sold to men who want to have a submissive wife.
It’s a double-sided blade. Nothing in this world is good without the bad, and it can be spoken with the utmost reverence.
“I have heard the awful experience you have had,” the woman says with her eyebrows curled. The concern on her face is comically fake, and it’s going to get her humiliation rather than what she is planning.
“Ah,” Fia stammers, unable to quickly come up with something to say. “Yes, it’s not a big deal. I’m alright and thank you for your concern.”
The woman is not worried about Fia at all. She is saying it as a polite gesture. I don’t have any reason to take Fia away just yet, so I let them talk, but I keep my eyes peeled to watch anyone who is paying unnecessarily close attention to my darling.
I can’t leave her side since Cyrus is still at the hospital with his wife. Another set of hands would be great in a place filled with elite professionals who tends to not know how to control their liquor because they think no one would dare to judge them since everyone is in the same class.
“I hope whoever hit your vehicle will be caught soon.” The woman smiles, and she almost seems genuine.
“Thank you,” Fia says awkwardly, a twitchy smile on her lips as she shifts closer to me.
“It’s quite sad if you think about it.” The woman hugs her figure with a glass of red wine. “My husband is a researcher, and I learned many things from him. His research results say that car crashes are the number one tragic death-inducing factor to this nation?”
Fia chuckles sheepishly, straining her smile and pretending to understand where this is going.
“Really?” Fia clears her throat.
“Yes, it’s why many people have taken the extra steps to make sure their families are financially taken care of.”
I see. The woman is clearly a sales representative for a product that she’s trying to sell. I wasn’t aware that the event would allow such disgrace to be let in, but she did say that her husband is a researcher.
She could be here with him as this is a plus-one gathering. Fia’s plus-one is me, and I’d be damned if I let her listen to her manager to have her accept the date from some rich individual.
“My husband and I are well taken care of. We made sure to do that first before anything else because his research is classified, and we have no way of knowing what would happen if something tragic were to be thrown at us.”
At this point, Fia is starting to catch on that this woman is not here to have small talks about the gathering and or the bidding on items.
She’s here to sell Fia something she doesn’t need.
“If anything were to happen to him,” the woman says with a sigh, “And, God forbid it does, I would be taken care of. His five million policy would be my saving grace.”
“Have you chosen a service for life insurance?” the woman asks with a smooth transition to the topic.
Fia pauses, eyes wide and stuck on what to say to her. I have had every second of Fia’s life memorized since I met her, and I don’t recall having anyone try to sell her life insurance. That is a subliminal message of cursing Fia to die sooner than later.
“No?” Fia answers uncertainly.
“No?” The woman gasps with her hand to her lips, and the acting keeps getting worse. “Oh, you must! A famous girl like you must have one. It’s what every celebrity needs and already signed the first day they became famous!”
What a load of bullshit this woman is spitting out, and she doesn’t change anything on her face because she is digging into her gig. I applaud her diligence, but there is a time and a place for everything.
This isn’t the time or the place for a life insurance sale. Fia just had her car accident, and the bolder moves of her attacker and putting the seed of death into her mind through life insurance tactics means she will be more terrified.
I don’t want anything to happen to her, especially since she is looking forward to her performance tomorrow night.
It’s for her mentor, and she loves that woman, and anyone Fia admires, I do help by keeping an eye out.
Fia has changed me. If it was a couple of years prior, I wouldn’t blink an eye if those she values are bleeding out in front of me. Psychopathic tendencies can’t be changed, but apathetic behavior can be masked with somewhat altered mindsets.
I see leaving those who she cherishes unharmed to be favorable to her, and that is about all I am capable of doing.
“I know that privacy is our biggest promise, but I can tell you a story. There was a woman—young, as young as you, and very talented in the choreography industry. She was a lovely woman who had an amazing track record, and she was going somewhere with her talent.”
The woman sighs and shakes her head with shame. “I had reached out to her with this premium opportunity to have herself taken care of, but she didn’t want that. No one knows the reason because she passed away when a crazy fan shot her in the crowd when she was performing.”
This saleswoman is setting up a scene in Fia’s head. Even I receive the message loud and clear. If Fia is to reject her offer for life insurance, she is going to end up like the dead dancer.
The parallel between the story and Fia’s life is uncanny.
“I am simply looking out for you, Miss. Fia.” The woman leers and sips her glass of wine as if she hadn’t been trying to practically threaten my Fia.
If she thinks that it’s going to get Fia to sign away her life in the hands of a shady company with shady selling tactics, then she has not done enough homework when she targeted Fia for her next big client.
I am the one that makes the decisions for Fia when it comes to her safety. She trusts me to put a stop to any nonsense before Fia does something she will regret because she can’t see three steps ahead.
I don’t blame her for that because she has always been more fascinated by her world of music and violin strings than understanding the mind games everyone seems to play.
The woman slumps her shoulders. “I am a big fan of yours, so I know you do not have a significant other, but when you do contact us about your premium policy, we would gladly introduce a clause in your contract. It wouldn’t be anything big, and it wouldn’t cost you more money.”
She’s speaking as if she knows for a fact that Fia will call her after this charade. My darling is innocent and na?ve, but she isn’t stupid in any sense. Anyone from miles away could smell this scheme and grimace at the distaste of it.
“What clause?” Fia, as polite as possible, asks out of respect for the hustle.
The woman without an ounce of indignity decides to jab at where Fia is the most vulnerable. She is playing with Fia’s feelings and tapping into the lack of familiar relations. “Because you don’t have a husband and you are not close enough to anyone for you to have a benefactor, we would have the power of attorney so we can plan your funeral services for you. This way, your family will grieve without stress.”
This woman is shameless. She is cursing Fia to die, and she has the balls to tell Fia that she will return the insurance money to the very service that started this.
“I don’t need—”
The woman scoffs with a scowl when she realizes that she is starting to lose Fia, but it wasn’t like she ever had my darling’s attention in the first place.
“Nonsense, Miss. Fia.” The woman pulls out her card and put her wine down to write down a phone number at the back. “Everyone needs this service because it’s normal to want to be taken care of. Women are meant to be pampered, and our service will make sure of that.”
She’s a greedy wench and a budding misogynist.
Fia shakes her head and beams so prettily that it’s a ‘fuck-you’ to the woman. “I don’t need your service, ma’am. I already have a will, and it is in the process of being revised.”
The woman clears her throat, eyes flickering with dismay as she upholds a certain level of professionalism. Her hand withdraws back and slips the card on the table for Fia before she picks up her drink with forced classiness.
It’s obvious that she’s disgruntled at the effort she put in to sell life insurance through fear and the unknown of the future, but it’s her fault for not seeing Fia’s lack of interest.
“Please excuse us,” Fia says as she wraps her arm around mine to push me away.
The woman tries to stop Fia, but one look from me makes her drop her hand. At least she knows when she will be in physical danger if she dares to put those grubby hands on my darling.
Fia sighs heavily, eyes wide with disbelief as she shudders throughout the walk. I pat her hand with my other one, and she squeezes my arm appreciatively. The sweetness in her smile can’t stop me from leaning down for a kiss.
She doesn’t dodge as she finds herself on her toes to meet me halfway. We’re in public and in the middle of a gathering with no one knowing about our relationship, so it’s a big risk.
Everyone stares at us when we separate, and her cheeks go up in flames, but she smiles shyly at me. This is her way of showing everyone that she is taken, and she is not afraid of the repercussion of public perception.
I can already read the headlines for tomorrow, but it’ll give her more exposure because the press is press, and they will be on her just before her performance.
I know they will dig into my past and smear my name on the headliners. I am a former army commander, so it’s natural for me to have dark skeletons in my closet, but all of them are classified.
The worst that can happen is taunts about my age, and I become a gold-digger trying to leech onto my darling’s fame.
They can portray me as a villain, and I’ll let it go. It’s not worth the effort to care about what everyone thinks when I have a more pressing problem to be dealt with.
The damn stalker that has been haunting my darling’s life like a vengeful ghost. This is a real person so I can wring their neck.
“Sorry,” she whispers timidly. “Are you okay with this?”
I bring a piece of hair behind her ear and tilt her head up to kiss her again. Her whimper and a small indescribable noise in the back of her throat are adorable, but it’s also gaining a lot of unwanted attention from other men.
Fia is a symbol of purity, and this is the first time anyone had seen her with a man and also doing intimidating acts that trigger other men’s instincts to have her since they know that she is not unattainable anymore.
It’s a shame for them that she is mine.
“Miss. Fia,” a man greets with a bright smile. “I’m one of your performing hall’s board directors.”
The man introduces himself with an elaborate title that sounds a lot like decorative words in front of his name, but Fia recognizes him and shakes his hand.
He begins by kissing her ass about her talent, just like the saleswoman, but he seems very candid about his praises. This could mean that he’s a better liar than the woman, so I wait to see what is up in his sleeves.
“As a representative of my company, I would like to congratulate you to be our twenty-fifth anniversary’s best musician of the year.”
Fia sputters in shock as her shoulders jump; the news is big for her and she struggles to say something. The man chuckles humbly and waits patiently for Fia to get her mind in the right place.
I place a hand on the small of her back, and her dress smoothed over my fingers, and she finds comfort on my arm as she smiles gratefully.
“Really?” she exclaims with excitement and wild pride from her accomplishment. “I-I’m—wow.”
“Yes, yes, it is much to take in.” The man nods to himself. “I assumed you knew, Miss. Fia. Our company sent you an email.”
As if a lightbulb had shattered in her brain, she gasps harshly. “I’m sorry, sir. A lot has happened over the month, and I never got the chance to look through every email I had.”
He waves his hand with a chuckle. “I understand, Miss. Fia. We have days like that, but I do want you to know that tomorrow night’s performance is for you and your accomplishments. Every guest we have are a supporter of you, so I bid you the best of luck.”
She nods happily and grins so vibrantly that it puts the chandeliers in disgrace. I turn my eyes from her to the man, and something on his arm catches my attention. The red dot forming on his white suit is too noticeable, but I don’t question why he’s wearing white when the customary color is black or men.
“You’re bleeding.” My words shock him as he quickly put his hand over the patch of redness.
Suspicion crawls up the length of my spine and buries itself into the base of my skull. The inkling on the spot of the wound is making me draw conclusions about the intruder that I had shot in the arm on the day we left the cabin.
Could he be?
Possible, but very improbable considering this man is on the board of directors for the performing hall and for his company so he would rarely have time to do all those things to Fia. However, his powerful position could explain how he could get Fia’s home address so easily.
He could buy the information since intel is a popular shortcut for money.
“Are you alright, sir?” Fia asks kindly.
The man nods with a smile. “Oh, yes. This is nothing.”
“But you’re bleeding. Do you need a medical assistant?” she presses more firmly.
“No, no,” the man hurriedly rejects with another smile. “This is from yesterday. I have a hobby. I love making 3D models, and one of the pieces that were in a pressurized gun malfunctioned.”
“Oh!” Fia gasps with sympathetic pain as she winces. “That’s dangerous! Please be careful!”
“You are so kind, Miss. Fia.” The man chuckles lowly. “Where there is a risk, there is a reward.”
She thinks for a moment and soaks in his words, but to me, they are practically a confession to his wrongdoings.
“That’s admirable, sir. You do what you love despite the risks.” Her praise has him preening like a damn peacock.
“I could say the same to you, Miss. Fia. The music industry can sometimes be as cutthroat as the advertising industry.”
The man looks at me briefly, and his shoulder jumps in shock as he notices me simply securitizing him. If he is who I think he is, then he will show some sign of culpability. He will act shifty and try to avoid me since, given the history of my experience with the stalker, they have been on the defense side rather than trying to attack me.
They could be weaker than I am and know that they can win against me, or they are in the long game of trying to either flush me out of this position or flush Fia out of the music world.
“Please excuse me,” the man excuses himself with a nod and moves away.
Fia tilts her head in mystification and shrugs. “Do you think he’s going to be fine?”
I bring my hand up to her bare shoulders. “Who knows.”
It’s worth investigating.