Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nicholas
The garage is quiet as I pull the Mercedes into a free spot, the hum of the engine fading into silence.
It was Koen’s favorite car when we were sixteen. He’d wax poetic about how fast and perfect it was, practically treating it like some holy grail of vehicles.
Leaving it here, hidden in the bowels of this place where Veronica never ventures because she has a driver to get around, feels like the smallest, pettiest revenge. But after the day I’ve had, petty is about all I’ve got left.
The metallic click of the car door echoes as I step out. My muscles still ache with every movement, reminding me of the hours I spent trying to burn through the frustration at the gym this morning, trying and failing to quiet my head after what she did.
And now?
My head is still swimming, the exhaustion wrapping around me like fog as I trudge to the elevator.
The penthouse feels too still when I step inside, but the moment I see her, I understand why.
Veronica’s standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, her silhouette cutting against the glow of the city. The air is heavier with her here, like her presence alone changes the atmosphere, tilting the balance of power before a word is even spoken.
“Nicholas,” she says without turning, her voice sharp enough to pierce the exhaustion weighing me down. “You’re late.”
I resist the urge to sigh. “I didn’t know you were waiting for me, Mother.”
She turns then, walking over to stand in front of me, her gaze sweeping over me in that way of hers. “You stink,” she says bluntly. “Take a shower. You look like you were at the gym, not the park with your little friends.”
The jab hits, even though I try not to let it show. “You know about that?”
Fuck, and here I thought I had one thing just for myself.
Her smile sharpens. “Honey, there isn’t a thing I don’t know about.”
The air feels colder as the words hang in the space between us like a threat. She can’t know. She can’t possibly know about what went down today, or yesterday for that matter, but the way she looks at me makes my pulse spike.
“We have dinner Friday.” She moves closer. “With the Lane brothers and… probably with your sweet little new attachment you like so much.”
I blink, startled. “I never said—”
“I know my son.” She cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “And you’ve never brought anyone home before.”
Panic flashes hot and quick.
Who the fuck ratted me out?
And does she know what Rosie—no, Novalee —tried to do? Does she suspect anything?
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I’m honestly pleased.”
“Why would you be pleased?” The words come out before I can stop them.
“ Because this will only help the relationship I’m trying to rebuild between our families. And maybe it will stop you from acting like a toddler every time I want to bring you somewhere they are too.”
“Why do you even want a relationship with them in the first place? I don’t understand.”
She sighs, shaking her head as though I’ve disappointed her again. “Yes, because you’re still stuck in a grudge from over a decade ago. I see business. I see opportunity. I see what’s important and think beyond petty feelings. Something you still need to learn.”
I clench my fists at my sides, forcing myself to stay calm. “What kind of business could you possibly want with them? They’re magicians.”
“I knew you weren’t the brightest candle on the birthday cake, but at least try to think, Nicholas. They’re magicians who own half the Strip.”
“And you own the other half. So what?”
“ We own the other half,” she corrects. “And I want all of it. Thankfully, they’re an easy target now. When I manage to establish a business relationship with them, there will be nothing holding us back from attaining everything they have.”
“That’s what you wanted to do with Oscar?” She simply nods as I stare at her, my heart thundering in my chest. “So you were never… in love with him?”
“There’s no room for love in business.” For the briefest moment, a hint of humanity flickers in her expression. “Your grandfather taught me that. But yes, I was planning the same with Oscar through a joint venture.”
“And then he went to jail. And three years later, he died.”
“He was acting out.” She shrugs. “Becoming a threat.”
My blood runs cold. Did she just…
“Are you saying—” I stop myself, but the words hang there, accusing and heavy.
“What I’m saying is… you would know more and be more involved in what I’m doing if you paid attention to the business. I’ve tried to teach you for years. How come you have so many questions now?”
Because I’m trying to save Novalee and my former best friend from getting killed too.
Because I’m terrified of what you’ll do.
“I don’t know,” I lie. “Maybe I finally want to be more involved.”
Her eyes glint with suspicion. “You do?”
“I’ve done nothing with my life so far,” I say, forcing conviction into the words. “I have a legacy, and I want to start acting like it.”
She studies me for a long moment before a smile softens the edges of her expression. It’s gentle, almost maternal, a rarity I can’t remember ever seeing from her. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
She steps past me, her hand landing lightly on my shoulder, the brief touch unexpected. It lingers in my mind, stirring a mixture of unease and something dangerously close to yearning. A connection I thought was lost or maybe never even there.
“I’ve waited for this day.” She strides toward her office. “I always knew it would come. It just took longer than I expected. And it took a pretty little thing to get you there, but I’ll take it.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s fine, honey.” She cuts me off with a wave of her hand, not bothering to turn around. “There are worse reasons to start. Wanting to impress her isn’t a weakness. But you’ll learn, soon enough, that power offers far more than the fleeting attention of a woman.” I have barely a second to process her words before she stops in the doorway of her office. “Oh, and Nicholas.” She turns to look at me after all. “Levi tried to get into the penthouse like a fumbling amateur. And then your little girlfriend had to run from security after she dragged him out. I don’t know what game they’re playing, but they’re after something , even if they’re not very good at it.”
“I didn’t know—” I start, but she cuts me off again with a dismissive wave.
“Of course, you didn’t,” She parrots mockingly. “Because you’re not paying attention. And that girl of yours? She’s just as entangled in their games. You might want to rethink whatever it is you think you’re doing with her.”
My fists clench at my sides. “Rosie isn’t like them.”
“That’s sweet. Na?ve, but sweet.” Her laugh is low, humorless. “Be careful, honey. I’d hate for you to get caught up in their mess.”
I stand frozen while the sound of the door to her office clicking shut feels like the final nail to my coffin.
Am I really going to do this?
Can I even pretend to be the son she’s always wanted to protect the people who wronged me?
Fuck.
The thought keeps repeating, looping like a bad track in my head as I head down the hall to my room. My body is screaming for rest even as my mind races ahead, dragging me through a thousand worst-case scenarios.
Inside, I kick off my shoes, ignoring the ache in my feet and legs. I strip off my shirt, wincing as the movement pulls at my sore muscles, the fabric dropping to the floor with a soft thud as I move to the dresser and grab a towel before heading into the en-suite bathroom.
The sound of the shower turning on echoes in the small space. Steam rises almost immediately, filling the room, but it doesn’t feel comforting. It’s suffocating, the same as everything else.
I step under the spray and let the hot water cascade over me, scalding my skin, but I don’t adjust it. Maybe I deserve it.
Veronica’s words play over and over in my head.
“ He was acting out… becoming a threat. ”
My hands press against the tiled wall, and I bow my head, water streaming over my face.
Did she kill him?
Did she kill Oscar?
I squeeze my eyes shut, but the questions don’t stop. Did she order it? Or allow it to happen? And if she did, how far would she go to get what she wants now?
Novalee? Koen?
I suck in a breath, but the steam makes it hard to breathe. Pushing off the wall, I run a hand through my wet hair. She doesn’t know. She can’t. If she knew Novalee tried to get evidence from her or that the twins were involved…
I need to protect them.
A bitter laugh bubbles up. Protect the guy who didn’t give a fuck about me since he kicked me out of his life thirteen years ago.
Protect her .
The girl who played me.
The girl who lied to me.
But also the girl who made me feel like… myself. Someone who made me believe, even for a second, that I could be more.
The events from earlier play in my head when she told us about Alaric and her sister. Her pain had been so thick I could feel it. And yet, she hadn’t broken. She’d let me hold her and let it out, piece by jagged piece, until we were all bleeding with her.
I shouldn’t feel this way about her. Not when I know the truth. Not when I watched her wrap herself around Koen and Sylus as if they were lifelines. Not when I saw her breakdown because of Alaric. Not when I’m supposed to hate her for what she did.
But I don’t.
God, I don’t.
Instead, I can’t stop thinking about her, the way her voice wavered but didn’t break. I saw myself in her for a moment, a version of me I’ve tried to bury for years. The scared, angry kid who wanted someone to tell him it wasn’t his fault. The way Oscar did.
Veronica killed Oscar. And if she could do that to someone she once loved, what the hell would she do to Novalee or the twins if she found out the truth?
I can’t let it happen. But how the hell do I protect them when I can barely keep myself together? I slam my fist against the wall, and the sharp pain grounds me. My head tips back, the water streaming down my face as I take a ragged breath. Novalee’s face flashes in my mind again, her tear-streaked cheeks, the way she whispered, “ Please, ” as though it was the only word she had left.
She doesn’t know it, but she’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.
Stronger than me, that’s for damn sure.
I exhale shakily while the water washes over me, but it doesn’t cleanse anything. The guilt. The fear. The anger. They’re all still there, bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to swallow me whole.
And yet, one thought cuts through the chaos again.
I have to protect her.
Even if it means pretending to be the son Veronica has always wanted. Even if it means walking into the fire, knowing I’ll burn.
“Fuck.”
Every part of me is heavy—my body, my chest, my mind.
I need a break. Just one moment where I don’t have to think, don’t have to carry this crushing weight. Something, anything, to pull me out of this spiral before I try to sleep and end up staring at the ceiling all fucking night, drowning in everything I can’t fix.
My hand drags over my chest, the tension knotted there so tight it’s as if I’ll snap in two. If only I could loosen it and feel something other than this suffocating pressure, maybe I could breathe again. My fingers press harder against the spot as the steam curls thick around me, wrapping me in warmth.
In my mind, the faceless woman takes form, the one who’s always there to help me ease the tension. Her voice is soft, seductive, and detached from reality. “Be a good boy for me,” she whispers, the words sliding over my skin like a phantom touch. “Touch yourself.”
My soaped-up hand finds my cock, which is rock-hard, and the groan that comes out of me when I grip myself is completely involuntary.
My head falls back onto my shoulders, and I press my eyes closed as my fist works itself from root to tip slowly.
Goddamn.
I rest my forehead against the cool tile as my other hand braces me, keeping me upright. My strokes start tentative, teasing, the shame and need tangling together in a way that feels both unbearable and addictive.
“ Faster, ” she purrs, and my hand obeys before I can think. The friction pulls soft whimpers from my lips, and I bite down hard to silence them. “ Good boy, ” she whispers, and the knot in my chest starts to loosen a fraction. Her approval wraps around me, erasing everything else. “ Don’t stop. Just like that. Show me how desperate you are. ”
My legs tremble as I obey, the pleasure coiling low in my stomach. The edge looms closer with every stroke, every whispered word.
“That’s it, Nico.” My fist tightens around my length, speeding up the strokes as the fantasy behind my eyes morphs into her . Novalee.
Her voice is softer, sweeter, but no less commanding. It wraps around me like she’s there in the room, pulling every breath from my lungs. “ Show me how good you are for me, ” she murmurs, her lips curving into that wicked smile I can’t forget.
My strokes falter, then grow faster, the image of her driving me past the point of no return. In my mind, she’s naked and on her knees, her gaze locked on mine, daring me to lose control.
I run my fingers through her hair while my cock glides along the length of her tongue before sliding toward the back of her throat. Her full lips close around me, tongue lapping me up as she sucks like it’s her favorite thing to do.
The vision of her on her knees, sucking me, has my hips thrusting, fucking my fist savagely. My pulse picks up while my hand never slows, even when in my mind, she lets me plop out of her mouth to demand, “ Come on my face,” undoing me completely.
“Sweetness,” I groan, her nickname spilling from my lips as I shatter, and my body trembles as I come, painting the shower wall in frantic pulses.
I open my eyes, and she’s gone. There’s nothing but the sound of my ragged breaths and the water rushing over me.
Then it hits.
The guilt.
The fucking shame.
I blink down at the streaks of white washing away in the spray, swirling into the drain like a goddamn metaphor.
What the fuck is wrong with me?