Chapter 4
Four
N IKOLAS
ONE WEEK LATER
I stood by the window, the soft light filtering in, as Soti asked, “Is everything to your satisfaction, Kyrios?”
I took a moment to appreciate the serene charm of the guest room. The fresh scent of linens and lilies hung in the air, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.
“Absolutely, it looks wonderful, Soti. Thank you for your meticulous care,” I responded, warmth blooming in my chest as I noticed the little details he had arranged with the house staff to enhance the room’s allure.
He nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. “I want your future wife to feel completely at ease.”
I smiled back at him, grateful for his thoughtfulness. I imagined her walking into the room, seeing the flowers, and feeling the warmth of his considerate touch.
“With your extraordinary attention to detail, I’m sure she’ll be very well cared for. The lilies are such a delightful touch.”
Soti was more of a trusted friend than simply my house manager.
I found it amusing that, despite my repeated requests to stop referring to me as “kyrios,” which means “boss,” he persisted in using the term, just as he had with my father throughout the years.
With me now in charge of the estate, his continued use of the title showed his recognition of me as our family's rightful heir and godfather.
However, my brothers would surely contest that.
They distanced themselves from the daily operations of our empire, yet they never missed an opportunity to stake their claim.
Fortunately, Stefano and Markos were too busy globe-trotting and partying to pay attention to the intricate details that kept everything running smoothly, leaving me to handle most of the work without their superficial complaints.
I needed to focus. This was about respect, about doing things the right way. And yet, after that kiss on the terrace, I wanted nothing more than to take her upstairs and taste her again.
Afterward, I intended to explore every sin she awakened in me. I planned to revel in her body over and over, as much as she allowed.
Laya had consented to move in early and settle before the wedding, streamlining everything and ensuring the estate was properly organized for our eagerly awaited honeymoon.
We had decided to marry as soon as we could arrange it logistically, and neither of us felt the need to delay. After all, this was a contracted marriage, so there wasn’t a necessity for a lengthy period to get acquainted. It would naturally happen over time anyway.
For now, she’d have privacy in the adjoining room, with a lock if she wished, though she needn’t know how easily I could breach it.
To ensure everything was ready for her arrival, I consulted with Eli and Avra about Laya’s preferences, from her preferred coffee style to her favorite shampoo brand.
I made sure everything would be prepared upon her arrival.
It was important to me that she felt thoroughly cared for and at ease.
After all, she would be my wife, and it was my duty to attend to her needs.
First on my agenda was a private appointment with my jeweler, who would showcase his finest engagement rings for her to select from. Laya deserved nothing less than the very best that money could buy, beginning with the unique symbol of my commitment adorning her finger.
I planned to invest a significant amount in her, expecting her to hesitate and shy away from the larger gemstones.
After her visit last week, I was eager to uncover everything I could about her.
Her shy, hesitant, and almost naive flirtation entranced me.
She blushed like someone inexperienced, leaving me with many questions regarding her past.
My investigator revealed her modest life in Prague, which was far from luxurious, explaining her unease at my dinner. However, that still left the question of her shyness open.
I pressed my investigator to look into any previous romantic relationships she may have had, but he came back empty-handed. Laya’s time in Prague was devoted to training at Vik's facility and caring for her younger sister.
She either seldom socialized or understood the importance of keeping her personal life private.
Could Laya be as innocent as she seemed? Surely, someone as stunning as her must have had previous lovers. Something felt amiss. Eventually, I’d uncover the truths of her past. The Vitalis sisters skillfully maintained a low-profile life, encompassing every aspect of their history.
“I’m going to work in my office until Laya arrives, Soti.”
“Of course, Kyrios,” he replied. With a respectful nod, he turned and disappeared down the lit corridor, leaving me alone with my numerous thoughts.
I walked past my room and paused to glance inside. The bed was meticulously made, and the room was serene, a stark contrast to the house staff's usual morning bustle.
Sometimes, I treated myself to extra time in bed, but on most days I woke up before dawn and worked until sunset. I couldn't help but smirk as I remembered how Laya had looked at the bed during her visit. I understood precisely what was on her mind.
I, too, had imagined the two of us sharing that bed, just as I found myself doing now.
However, since it was the dead of night, I envisioned her bathed in moonlight with her skin enveloped in a glowing light. She would scream her pleasure, head tilted back as I lost myself between her legs, savoring her sweetness.
“Jesus,” I muttered, reaching down to adjust my growing erection.
These days, it felt like a hard cock was a permanent fixture in my pants, a constant, throbbing reminder of my obsession with her. She was under my skin already, and I hadn’t even touched her yet.
I sighed and turned my eyes from the neatly arranged bed, my imagination racing with unending dreams of Laya. Striding down the corridor, I clenched my fists to suppress the storm of emotions swirling inside me, resolved to focus on the pending tasks in my quiet office.
I focused intently on my work for the next hour, stopping briefly to get a hot cup of rich, dark coffee before returning to my messy desk.
The distribution deal papers lay scattered, demanding my full attention as they detailed the final steps of agreements with my cousins in Italy, when suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.
I barely glanced up before the door exploded open, and there they stood—my brothers, their faces twisted with rage.
“Hello, dear brothers,” I drawled, one eyebrow arched as I steeled myself for what was coming. “Did you forget to knock?”
Stefano let out an exasperated grunt, while Markos shrugged, both emanating an air of shameless entitlement.
“What a surprise to see you both,” I continued, injecting sarcasm into my tone. “I might have called it a pleasant surprise, but I know you’d see right through that, wouldn’t you?”
My irritation with their reckless arrogance pulsed under my skin. They moved in perfect sync, always defending and enabling each other in their worst moments, like the archetypal rich kids spoon-fed their entire lives, taking every luxury for granted.
Resentment bubbled beneath the surface, ignited by the bond I had formed with our father. He had pinned his hopes on Stefano and Markos embracing the family business, but they rejected the idea of hard work.
Instead, they pranced around Europe, chasing extravagant parties and spending money like it was water, never satisfied and always seeking more.
It drained me just contemplating their endless indulgence.
They were lucky that my father secured their inheritance; otherwise, I would have cut ties with them long ago.
His foresight was exceptional. He barred them from claiming any interest in the family enterprise, insisting they should remain permanently excluded from its legacy since they refused to learn its complexities while he was alive.
This decision infuriated both of them, fueling their deep resentment stemming from their lack of genuine influence despite their vast wealth. Although their bank accounts held millions, it never felt like enough—a constant longing that would never be satisfied.
Watching them continue to vie for a position at a table they had never earned through effort or sacrifice was downright laughable.
Today, whatever minor grievance had upset them was clearly evident in the scowls on their faces.
“Is it true?” Stefano suddenly demanded, his eyes blazing with anger as he pointed a finger at me.
“And what rumor have you heard this time?” I replied, remaining unbothered by his childish display.
Years of dealing with their theatrics had shown me that silence was the most powerful response to their explosive outbursts; the less I stoked their flames, the less power their anger held.
“You plan to marry a Vitalis,” he sneered, the name bitter like poison on his tongue. I leaned back in my chair, crossed my arms over my chest, and asked, half-amused and half-exasperated, “Why do you care about my personal life?”
“Personal life!” Markos bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls. “It’s hardly personal, Nikolas! Did you forget that we’re discussing our family here? Our bloodline!”
“I promise you,” I said, “this won’t impact either of you, so spare me your theatrics. You’re acting like a couple of spoiled teenagers. Grow up.”
“Is it true, then?” Stefano was accused of acting like a schoolyard bully.
I merely shrugged with indifference.
The atmosphere grew tense until Markos, in annoyance, threw up his hands. “This is unbelievable!”
“If it were so unbelievable, you wouldn’t be standing here before me, would you?” I countered coolly.
“You blindsided us. This marriage affects the entire family legacy—ours included.” Stefano insisted.