Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Nicholas
The clinking of Veronica’s manicured nails against her laptop keys fills the silence of the penthouse kitchen. I’m sitting across from her at the massive marble island, my laptop open and a spreadsheet staring back at me like it’s written in another language. The numbers blur together, and my head aches from trying to keep up.
It’s fucking Sunday.
Why do we have to do this shit on a Sunday?
I suppress a sigh, glancing at her. She’s poised, laser-focused, her lips pressed into that habitual thin line. But the tension that used to accompany her presence, the weight of her constant disappointment feels… dulled. Distant.
Since I told her I wanted to be more involved five days ago, she’s taken me at my word. There’s no free time anymore, no lazy mornings or quiet afternoons. My life has become an endless cycle of meetings, reports, and discussions similar to this one. And the worst part?
I understand jack shit about most of it.
“Nicholas,” she says sharply, snapping my attention back. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, Mother.” I run a hand through my hair, embarrassed at being caught zoning out. “I just… I think I’m not quite following.”
I brace for it, her scathing remark, her withering look. But instead, she tilts her head, her gaze oddly patient. “It’s fine,” she states dryly. “It’s a lot at the start. It can be overwhelming. Where did you get lost?”
I blink, stunned.
Her calm response feels so out of place it’s almost unsettling. This is the kind of interaction I used to dream about as a kid, some semblance of understanding or encouragement from her. And now that it’s here, I don’t trust it.
Because I don’t fucking trust her.
“It’s the part about the quarterly transfers,” I say hesitantly, testing her mood.
She nods, turning her laptop to face me and pointing to a specific line. “This. We structure it this way to avoid triggering any red flags during audits. Casinos generate large cash flows, which is perfect for reinvestment, but the key is to make it look legitimate. It’s standard practice.”
Standard practice.
The words churn in my stomach. Of course, I already knew the casinos were used for laundering money—she made no effort to hide that when I first asked. “It’s what everyone does,” she’d said, brushing it off like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t a massive fucking problem. But hearing her explain it again so calmly still makes my skin crawl.
“I see,” I reply, forcing a nod.
“Good.” She watches me closely, searching for cracks in my facade. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
I should feel relieved that she isn’t berating me. I should be grateful she’s treating me like I’m worth her time for once. But it irks me instead, twists my insides into knots.
Where was this version of her when I was a kid, desperate for her approval? When every small mistake earned me contempt and every accomplishment was dismissed?
Now, suddenly, I’m worth her while?
Her opinion changed when I told her I was ready to work with her. That’s all it took. Not my years of trying, not my pleas for recognition, only my willingness to step into her world.
She’s playing a part, trying to keep me close now that I’m useful. And God, it’s almost working. Almost.
But then I think of Oscar, and my resolve hardens. I told myself I wouldn’t waver, no matter how she tried to reel me in. I can’t let this fake version of her sway me.
I glance at her laptop, the screen angle allowing me to see the document she’s working on. I’ve tried to log in before when she left it unattended, but I can’t get around her passwords. Or guess them. I’d probably need Sylus’s help, though the thought of asking him makes my stomach twist.
For now, I do what I can. I’m wired, a small recorder hidden beneath my shirt, ready to capture anything she might slip up and say. It’s a long shot. She’s too careful to give me anything big. And I can’t pry too much, can’t risk her catching on.
“Nicholas,” her voice snaps me back from my wandering thoughts. “Are you lost again?”
I shake my head quickly. “No, just thinking.”
“Don’t overthink.” Her tone is almost dismissive now. “Focus. This isn’t as complicated as it looks.”
Easy for her to say. But I nod again, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “Of course.”
Veronica’s phone rings on the island between us, and my eyes flick to the screen.
Koen Lane.
What the fuck?
He texted me that Sylus, Alaric, and Novalee were at the Plaza, scoping out the rooftop. I didn’t ask what he was doing, but apparently… this.
“What a surprise,” Veronica murmurs before she picks up the phone. “Koen, how are you?”
“Veronica, am I disturbing you?” She has her phone turned up so loud I can hear Koen’s response as clearly as if he were sitting at the island with us.
I clench my fists under the table.
What the hell?
He didn’t mention contacting her. Not a word.
“Of course not, darling,” she coos. “How can I help you?”
“I was wondering if you’ve got a minute for me today,” Koen replies, his voice giving nothing away. “I’d like to talk some more about the joint venture. I’ve been thinking about it and had some ideas.”
“I’m free now.” Veronica’s eyes light up, and when her gaze lands on me, she gives me a satisfied smile. “Nicholas and I are just going over some numbers, but you could join us up at the penthouse if you’d like. I can order us a late lunch.”
“Oh, please,” Koen replies, a light laugh in his voice. “No food necessary, but I’d love to take a coffee with you up there and discuss. Should I grab some on the way, or…”
“Don’t be silly. We’ve got more than capable baristas to make us a coffee. I’ll let them know. How long will you take?”
“I’m at the Lane Building. Ten minutes?”
Her smile widens. “I’m looking forward to seeing you, darling.” She hangs up and immediately dials the concierge to arrange for three coffees to be brought up.
“So, Koen’s coming?” I ask as if I didn’t hear the whole conversation.
“Can you please at least act civilly with him?” She turns back to me, and her expression hardens. “This is a big deal, Nicholas. We need this to work out.”
“I’m still not quite sure how you—”
“Because you don’t think big enough or far enough ahead.” She sighs. “We’ll make this venture with them, build it, make it big, and pull them into a sense of security with us. Family .” Her voice lowers, dripping with intent. “This is playing the long game, but it will be worth it. So you better start acting friendly, Nicholas.”
“I will, I promise.” She gives me an unbelieving look. “I’m going to try, at least. But for what? What is even the plan here?”
“When they’re in this, we’re going to offer to help them with their financials. They’ll trust us more and more, give us access and power of attorney over their stakes. Let’s be honest, they’re children. They have no idea what to do with all the money they’ve earned and inherited.” Her eyes gleam. “And when we’re there in control, it only takes a little something. Stuff happens to people.”
“Stuff happens? You mean like with Oscar?”
That was too blunt, and I know it.
But fuck. She is fucking ruthless.
She just throws me a glare sharp enough to cut slices through me before her phone rings again, and she picks it up. “Yes?”
“Ms. Harrington.” The concierge’s voice filters through. “Mr. Lane has arrived in the lobby.”
“Send him up.” She hangs up and fixes me with a pointed look. “Sometimes, Nicholas, things have to be done for the greater good.”
Her words linger as I force myself to stay still, to nod as if I agree, but my heart pounds in my chest.
Still not a full confession. Fuck.
I glance at my laptop, then back to her, my mind racing. She knows what she’s doing. And now, so do I.
The ding of the elevator pulls my attention, and when the doors slide open, Koen steps out, a smile already on his face.
“Koen,” Veronica greets him, her tone warm and welcoming in a way that still throws me off every time. “Come in, come in. How are you?”
“Good, thank you,” Koen replies, stepping into the penthouse with that easy confidence he always carries. “I’m sorry for the spontaneity of this, but I was over by the Lane Building, thinking about Oscar and what he would’ve loved for the new hotel, and—”
Another ding from the elevator interrupts him, and this time, it’s the server with a tray holding three coffees. He steps in briskly, setting the cups down on the kitchen island before offering a quick nod and heading back out.
“Sorry, darling.” Veronica gestures to the coffee. “Is here okay, or should we move to the living room for this?”
“No, this is fine, thank you.” Koen settles into a stool next to her. He picks up one of the cups, and we all follow suit, sipping as she prompts him to continue.
“You were saying…”
“I was thinking about that dinner we all had once, back when you and Oscar were talking about this venture. I didn’t pay much attention then. I was too busy discussing the new Mercedes Uncle Oscar had just gotten me with Nico.”
I suppress a grin, the memory hitting me as he says it. I remember that dinner vividly. Oscar animated and full of big ideas, and me barely listening because I was relentlessly ribbing Koen about the car.
It’s one of my best memories, especially the part where we went out to drive around in it for the rest of the night.
“But I do remember Oscar saying something about wanting magic-themed rooms,” Koen continues. “Like, ones where light illusions would change depending on what you touched. Maybe a mirror that shifts reflections when you walk past it, or a ceiling that resembles the night sky but moves when you clap your hands. Stuff like that.”
“Right.” Veronica smiles, a rare, genuine expression crossing her face. “I remember that dinner. I’d almost forgotten. It was such a long time ago.”
“I know,” Koen agrees. “I just… I’ve been thinking about that time a lot lately. I don’t know. I miss it. Miss him.”
I have no idea if he’s playing a part right now or if he’s genuine. Nobody could say, but his eyes tell me that at least the last part of the sentence was the full truth.
Hell, I miss Oscar, too, and I hadn’t spoken to him in years before he died.
I’m mid-sip when Veronica rises from her seat. My mind stutters as she takes a couple of steps to Koen.
She’s not…
Surely, she’s not…
But she does. She wraps him in a hug.
Koen’s eyebrows shoot up, his wide eyes meeting mine over her shoulder, and I nearly choke on my coffee. What the hell is happening?
Has she ever hugged anyone that way?
“I’m so sorry, darling,” Veronica says softly, patting his back. “I know this is more than hard for you. But I want you to know I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need. I meant it when I said we’d be family again. I’m here.”
Koen clears his throat, clearly as stunned as I am. “Thank you, Veronica.”
She steps back, smoothing her skirt as if the moment hadn’t just blown both of our minds. Just as she opens her mouth to speak again, her phone rings. She glances at the screen, her jaw tightening. “Excuse me.” She picks it up while taking a few steps away from us. Her tone shifts instantly into sharp commands. There’s apparently a problem at one of the casinos.
She holds up a hand to us mid-conversation, muting the call with a press of a button as she steps back to us. “I’m sorry, boys. I have to go take care of something. Honey,” she says firmly, her eyes pinning me in place. “Will you talk more ideas out with Koen, please? Maybe you two could go out and grab something to eat? I bet Koen doesn’t want to be alone right now.” I open my mouth, but the sharpness of her gaze stops me cold. “Nicholas,” she reprimands, a warning in her tone.
Damn, I didn’t even want to protest.
I nod stiffly, turning to Koen. “How about the Chinese place we always used to go to?”
Veronica’s expression softens, and she squeezes my forearm, a surprising gesture of approval. Then she turns to Koen with an air kiss and heads toward the elevator. “Take care, darling,” she calls to Koen as the doors close behind her.
The silence that follows feels heavy, but Koen breaks it with a low chuckle. “What just happened?”
“I have no idea.” I shake my head, still reeling. “It’s not like I know what she’s even doing, only that she’s not fucking playing around.” I unbutton my shirt and carefully detach the wire from the underside of my collar. Koen lets out a low whistle, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter.
“Someone’s taking this seriously.”
“What are you even doing here?” I glance at him sharply. “And why the hell didn’t you tell me about it?”
Koen smirks, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “You know about it now, don’t you?” He chuckles at my glare and continues, “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I need her to think I’m buying into this whole family bullshit. I want her to trust us, make her believe we’re a couple of desperate kids who long so much for a family we’ll fall for her manipulations.”
I scoff, folding the wire neatly and stuffing it into my pocket. “Well, you’re on the right track. She already thinks you’re a stupid kid.”
Koen grins, unbothered. “Does she?”
“Yeah,” I say dryly. “And she’s not wrong, Copy.”
He huffs, rolling his eyes. “Come on, now I really do want that Chinese food. We can grab some for everyone. I’m sure Novalee and the guys will be home soon, and we can debrief together.” He looks around the penthouse, his gaze lingering on the corners as if looking for cameras.
But there are none. At least of that, I’m sure.
“Want to check out her stuff?” I nod toward the kitchen island, where Veronica’s laptop still sits, the screen dark but humming faintly.
“Do you know her password?”
I sigh. “Nope.”
“It would be a waste of time then. We’d need Sylus for that, and like I said, this wasn’t exactly planned.”
I let out a breath, frustrated but knowing he’s right. “Should’ve thought about that sooner.”
“We’ve got time.” Koen shrugs. “Honestly, now that you’re in this with us, I’m not worried. We’ll get what we need.” But then he hesitates, his expression softening before he speaks again. “I need to apologize again. For everything. For letting you down.”
The words are a sucker punch, but I don’t flinch. Instead, I force a shrug. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” he presses. “I thought about it, and you’re right. I was an asshole. I should’ve—”
“Should’ve what?” I interrupt, my gaze locking on the elevator doors ahead. “Should’ve talked to me? Should’ve been there? It’s been thirteen years, Koen. Don’t act like this is new.”
I feel his eyes on me, his silence heavy. A part of me wants him to fight back, to justify himself, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets out a sigh, and for some reason, that makes it worse. My grip on the tension inside me falters.
He shakes his head. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
My lips twitch, and against my better judgment, I glance his way. “Let’s get some food, dickhead.”
“Deal,” he replies, grinning as he claps me on the shoulder. “I’m starving.”
We step into the elevator, the quiet hum of its descent filling the space between us. I keep my focus on the floor numbers ticking down, refusing to let my mind wander. But it does, anyway.
Because the truth is, I’m still hurt. It’s been over a decade of hurt. That doesn’t vanish overnight. The walls I built to keep him out aren’t going to crumble because he’s suddenly here, suddenly trying to patch things up.
If he’s even doing that. How can I be sure he’s not using me the same way he intends to use Veronica?
Hell, he already did, sending Novalee after me.
But God help me, it’s like no time has passed when I’m with him. The jokes, the ribbing, the way he looks at me as though I’m the same kid he used to protect—it feels familiar. Too familiar.
Like I have my best friend back.
Even if I’m cautious.
Even if I know better than to trust it.
When the elevator dings and the doors slide open, Koen steps out first. I follow, keeping my distance, my thoughts tangled in everything unsaid between us. It’s strange, this mix of hurt and something I don’t want to call hope. Because I know better. Thirteen years of silence doesn’t up and disappear because someone decides to apologize. But then again, maybe it’s not about the apology. Maybe it’s about what happens next.
Koen glances back at me, his expression unreadable, but there’s a question he doesn’t ask out loud.
I don’t answer it.
Not yet.
But as we walk toward the exit, I realize the weight between us feels a little lighter. Maybe it’s temporary. Maybe it’s not.
Either way, it’s more than I’ve had in a long time.