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I left his office with my jaw locked, pulse tight, teeth clenched so hard I thought they'd break. I had skipped seeing Daria this morning, on purpose, because I needed to cool off, and instead walked right into that meeting.
For what?
For him to tell me I needed to parade myself around with some Greek princess like a prize horse.
I walked through the hallway, ignoring every greeting, and pushed through the doors into the cold morning air.
I needed a second. Maybe ten.
I headed toward the second car I kept here—a Maserati MC20. Matte black. Definitely dangerous, loud, and fast. A perfect distraction from wanting to punch a wall.
I slid inside, shut the door, and let out the slowest groan known to man.
"A Greek girl," I muttered to myself. "Perfect. Of course."
I pulled up my phone and searched her name.
Eirene Vlahos.
The screen filled with runway photos, red carpets, magazine covers. Tall. Long legs. Silver-blonde hair that reached her waist. Blue eyes like ice. Perfect posture.
Beautiful, sure.
But not Daria.
Not even close.
I dropped the phone on my lap and rubbed my forehead.
"If the Greeks want a Costa son," I said under my breath, "they can have one."
Just... not me.
I unlocked my phone again and dialed the one person I knew would follow whatever task I threw at him.
Enzo answered on the second ring.
"Brother," he said. "Please tell me you're calling because you finally calmed down after your meltdown last night."
"I have a plan," I said flatly.
He paused. "That sounds evil."
"It's not evil."
"Mhmm." He didn't sound convinced. "Tell me."
"You get a pretty girl," I said. "With nice legs."
"Aaaaand?" he asked.
"And an excellent salary."
Silence.
Then:
"Color me intrigued."
I almost smiled. Almost.
"It doesn't have to be forever," I said. "But it does involve marrying someone."
"Marrying— WHAT? Nico, what the fuck?"
"She's twenty," I added.
I swear to God I heard him choke.
"You're trying to marry me off? Are you out of your fucking mind?"
I checked the pictures again. "I'll send you photos."
"Send them," he said immediately.
I screenshotted a few, the runway shots, the interview stills, the modeling campaign where she looked like a Greek goddess—and sent them over.
Two seconds later, my phone buzzed.
"Damn," Enzo said. "Okay. Wait. Hold on. She's... wow."
"Exactly."
He went silent again.
Then:
"For a contract marriage," he said slowly, "and a good salary? I could be convinced."
I exhaled for the first time since leaving Papa's office. "Perfect. After Papa's birthday, we'll lock it in. I'll handle the negotiation."
"Brother?" Enzo added. "Why the hell are you doing this?"
I didn't answer.
He didn't need to know that the idea of taking another woman to my father's event made my stomach twist.
That the only girl I wanted anywhere near me wasn't mine. That she would never be involved in this world.
That this was the only way to protect her without making it obvious.
He sighed. "Fine. But if she's crazy, I'm divorcing her and you're paying the fee."
"Deal," I muttered.
He hung up.
I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat, leaned back, and stared at the roof of the car.
"Take the girl to Papa's birthday like they want," I muttered to myself.
"Let her be seen. Let them think the alliance is forming."
"And then... marry her off to a Costa son like they want."
I tapped my fingers on the wheel, thinking, planning, calculating.
"They never said which Costa son."
And that was exactly how I liked it.
My phone buzzed.
Angelo.
I answered. "Yeah."
"Boss," he said, voice steady, "she's home. I dropped her off myself."
A tight knot in my chest loosened just a little. "Alright. Good. Thanks, Angelo."
There was a pause. "What's the plan today?"
I exhaled hard, leaning back against the leather seat. "I need to hire somebody."
"For what?"
"To watch her."
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
"Someone reliable. I trust you, but I need someone on her all the time."
Angelo didn't question me—he never did.
"Alright... what about Danny?"
"No." Too reckless. Too young. Too stupid.
"What about Jules? Jules Pansini?"
I nodded to myself. "Yeah. Jules. Call him. Tell him to meet me in my office."
"Got it."
"And Angelo," I added, "any updates from Tommaso about the Russian kid?"
"Nothing useful," he said. "Viktor's being difficult."
Of course he was. Russians loved being fucking difficult.
"Keep the kid safe for now," I said. "Don't hurt him. Not yet."
"Understood."
"And meet me in my office," I repeated.
"Yes, boss."
He hung up.
I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and exhaled sharply again.
If it wasn't the Russians, it was Papa.
If it wasn't Papa, it was the Greeks.
If it wasn't the Greeks...
It was Daria.
I started the engine.
The Maserati roared to life, the sound echoing through the garage.
I peeled out, tires screeching as I hit the main road.
By the time I stepped into my office, both Angelo and Jules were already inside, standing, not sitting. Good. They knew better.
Jules straightened when he saw me. Medium-built, mid-30s, tattoo wrapping his forearm, wedding ring on his finger.
A man with something to lose. That's why I chose him.
"What's up, boss?" Jules asked.
I shut the office door behind me, tossed my keys onto the desk, and leaned back against it.
"I need you on someone," I said.
Jules nodded once. "Who?"
"Daria Cole."
Angelo didn't react. Jules lifted a brow.
"She in trouble?" he asked.
"She's connected to trouble," I corrected. "Which is worse."
Jules folded his arms, listening.
"You watch her," I said. "Everywhere. Every day. You keep her safe. If she's at work, you're there. If she's out with friends, you're nearby. If anyone approaches her that you don't like—"
I looked him dead in the eyes.
"You call me. Immediately."
Jules nodded. "Alright. Anything else?"
"Yeah," I said, pushing off the desk and stepping closer.
Close enough that he could smell the cologne, the anger, the warning.
"Jules..."
He met my stare.
"If you ever try anything with her, if you even think about it... your girl and your daughter are getting a tongue in a box."
For a split second, fear flashed across his eyes.
Then he composed himself quickly.
"Boss," he said quietly, "you know I'm loyal."
"Good." I stepped back, grabbing my jacket off the chair.
He swallowed, nodded once more, and Angelo finally spoke.
"I'll get him fully briefed," Angelo said. "Schedules, routes, everything."
"Do that," I said.
I headed for the door, hand on the handle.
"And Jules," I added without looking back.
"Yes, boss?"
"She doesn't know you're watching her. Keep it that way."
"Understood."
I walked out.
The door shut behind me with a soft click.
I exhaled. Finally.
Because now she wasn't alone.
And no one would touch her.
Not without going through me.
Guys ... Is he completely insane or completely hot lmao!