Nero

CHAPTER 37

NINA MARCHESI

The driver pulls the car to a stop in front of a mansion I immediately know belongs to Nero’s family, even though I wasn’t expecting to be brought here.

When he told me—by text—that he was sending a car to take me to him because he was still stuck at work, I assumed I was being taken to the export company. After a few minutes, I realised I didn’t recognise the route, but I figured Nero might be handling something off-site that day.

What never once crossed my mind was that he would send me here. Alone.

Especially after admitting that his parents are complicated people.

What exactly was that supposed to mean?

If their own son couldn’t explain it, how was I supposed to deal with it?

I offer a polite smile to the middle-aged man behind the wheel.

“Excuse me—Nero is expecting me here?”

“No, Mr. Nero Zanthos hasn’t arrived yet,” he replies. “But don’t worry. There’s someone else here to receive you.”

“Someone else?” I ask.

This time, he doesn’t answer.

He steps out of the car, walks around it, opens my door, and gestures for me to go inside.

I wet my lips and do as he says.

An uncomfortable sensation crawls over my skin, and I shake my head, trying to brush it off. I walk slowly across the stone path and climb the three short marble steps, stopping only when I reach the door.

I’m debating whether I should knock or simply wait when it opens.

A woman in an elegant navy-blue dress stands there. Her pale skin glows in sharp contrast with her very dark hair and piercing blue eyes. If I didn’t know Nero was adopted, I would never doubt it—they look strikingly alike.

“Hello, good afternoon,” I forced my best smile, suddenly feeling as nervous as if I were meeting the Pope instead of my future mother-in-law.

“Oh,” she replies coldly, her gaze sweeping over every inch of me, judging everything from my hair to my shoes, if the disdain curling her lips is any indication. “You finally arrived. You’re late.”

“I—”

“Spare me your excuses for your incompetence,” she cuts me off sharply. “And put yourself in your place. Take the service entrance.”

Before I can explain that there must be some kind of mistake, she shuts the door in my face.

I blink at the white wood, stunned.

Nero said he couldn’t quite explain how his parents were complicated.

Well—warning me that his mother was a snob and an abusive boss would’ve been a good start.

It takes me a few seconds to move. I glance over my shoulder, looking for anyone who might help me figure out what to do.

When I find no one, I turn and walk back down the steps. I scan the property as far as my eyes can reach. First one side, then the other.

Several metres to my right, I spot a gardener.

I tilt my head, stretching my tense neck, and slowly exhale, giving myself a moment to gather courage and deal with the situation. If I was nervous before, I don’t even know how to define what I’m feeling now.

Balancing carefully on my heels while my whole body threatens to tremble, I walk toward the man partially hidden by shrubs, trimming hedges.

“Excuse me,” I say, offering a brief smile.

He nods.

“Could you tell me where the service entrance is?” I ask.

His eyes flick over me quickly—not maliciously, more like he’s wondering why someone clearly not dressed for work would be asking that.

A very fair question.

“Just follow this path and turn left,” he says, gesturing.

“Thank you,” I reply, heading in that direction.

The sensation that settled on my skin when I got out of the car now coils in my stomach too. I consider calling Nero, but decide not to.

My first impression of his mother was awful—there’s no denying that—but I can swallow my pride if it means making my fiancé happy.

It’s just a misunderstanding, Nina. You just need to clear it up.

The service entrance is open. With no one to announce myself to, I step inside. I walk down a long corridor until I reach a white kitchen—white in every detail—and completely empty.

God. What am I supposed to do?

I don’t have to wait long for the answer.

Lysandra appears.

“Are you stupid enough to have gotten lost?” she asks, sounding genuinely curious.

I clench my teeth, swallowing the response I really want to give.

“I’m not an employee. I’m here for Nero,” I explain.

Her mouth opens as her head nods slowly, as if she’s finally understood.

“Oh, of course! Thalyssa, right?”

“No.”

“Diana?”

“No.”

“Aphrodite, perhaps?” She rolls her eyes dismissively. “No, definitely not Aphrodite. That would be far too divine a name for someone like you.”

“I think you know very well that I’m none of those,” I say, tired of playing her game.

She smiles broadly.

“Oh, you’re right. How could I confuse you?” she says sweetly. “You’re the one being shared by my son and the three leeches who refuse to let go of him.”

I press my tongue against my lower lip, stunned that this is actually happening.

“It looks like a scene pulled straight from the worst nightmare a woman can have about meeting her future mother-in-law,” I think—except I’m wide awake.

“I’ll say this only once,” she continues, looking me up and down with such contempt that an outright insult would’ve been kinder.

“My son is not going to fall for your little scheme. If you didn’t have a mother to raise you properly and protect you from becoming this—” she points at me, making it clear she considers me a full defect, “—know that Nero does.”

She spits the words.

My hands immediately move to my stomach, instinctively protective.

Lysandra laughs.

“How cute,” she mocks. “I’ll admit—you’re not stupid. You were quick to lock down an illegitimate heir. Guaranteed yourself a pension for life.”

My breath catches in my throat when she speaks about my child.

How does she know?

If I swallowed my replies when her cruelty was aimed only at me, now that becomes impossible.

“My child will not be a bastard,” I say through clenched teeth, tears of rage burning my eyes. “Whether you like it or not, Nero and I are getting married.”

If I thought any of her earlier smiles were cruel, it’s only because I hadn’t yet seen the one that spreads across her face now.

“That,” she says coldly, “is what we’ll see.”

A chill runs down my spine at the promise in her tone.

“If you want to wait for Nero, wait here. I don’t want you wandering around my house.”

And with that final blow, she turns her back on me and leaves, abandoning me alone in the unfamiliar kitchen.

I glance at my watch.

Not even fifteen minutes.

The speed with which I flee—not just the kitchen, but the entire property—is almost unbelievable. I walk several metres before spotting a taxi and flagging it down.

When I collapse against the soft leather seat, all the happiness that filled my chest over the past few days feels suddenly poisoned.

Every plan I made with Nero, every dream of the future, every promise we exchanged feels like a distant dream I’ve just woken from.

I force that feeling down, kicking it out of my chest with mental force and replacing it with nothing but seething hatred for the woman my fiancé calls his mother.

I close my eyes and breathe slowly, deeply, until my heart finds its rhythm again—because if I let the bitterness Lysandra planted take root, she wins.

And I’d rather lose my clean criminal record by killing her any day of the week than let that happen.

***

“Hey, love,” Nero greets me hours later, arriving at his apartment and finding me seated on the only piece of furniture in place besides the bed we’ve been sharing almost every night and the clothing rack where he keeps his spare clothes—a sofa.

I lift my eyes from the papers scattered around me, where I’ve been obsessively studying the interior design projects the architects and designers sent us weeks ago.

I told Nero I couldn’t choose, but the truth is I’d been postponing it, clinging to the idea that it was too soon for him to include me in decisions like this, no matter how insistent he was.

Now, though, I’m starting to think I’m the one falling behind—because there’s a child arriving in seven and a half months, and his house is literally empty.

“Hey,” I say softly, offering a smile.

He tilts his head, removing his jacket and loosening his tie. I watch him carefully. I could do it all day. He’s beautiful.

“That look—is it an invitation?”

“My doors are always open,” I tease.

“And your legs?” he asks, stepping closer and bending to kiss my forehead, my nose, and finally my lips. I inhale his scent deeply.

“I thought that’s what we were talking about from the start,” I reply.

His laugh is low and rough.

He glances at the papers scattered across my thighs and around me.

“These are outdated,” he says, sitting beside me. “I already asked for new ones—including a nursery.”

At his words, his hand immediately goes to my belly, and Nero kisses my shoulder.

Relief washes over me in a way I didn’t even realise I needed.

I told myself over and over that I wouldn’t let what happened with Lysandra affect me, but no matter how close I came to believing it, one fact clung stubbornly inside me:

She’s still Nero’s mother.

“You asked for a nursery design?” I ask, unreasonably emotional.

“Of course, love.”

A tear slips down my cheek, and Nero’s eyes widen in alarm. He straightens immediately, turning my face toward him with care.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong? Did you want to choose on your own? I can cancel everything,” he blurts out, barely breathing between questions.

I laugh and wave him off.

“I’m just emotional,” I explain. “Hormones, Nero. Completely out of control.”

He exhales deeply.

“Fuck, Little Fae. At this rate I’m not surviving this pregnancy.”

“Exactly,” I agree. “Now imagine ten.”

He laughs and kisses me slowly, gently, deeply—until I’m reduced to a puddle of happy sighs.

“What happened this afternoon? Why didn’t you wait for me? Are you feeling okay?” he asks, all the questions I knew were coming.

“I got nervous,” I confess—part of the truth.

Nero’s voice, saying half-truths are fully told lies, echoes uninvited in my mind.

“I thought the car would take me to you and then we’d go to your parents’ house together.

When I realised I was there alone, all I could think about was the rumours on the island and the possibility that they’d already heard them—and believed them.

That I was trying to trap you or something like that.

I couldn’t force myself to go through it without you.

I started feeling unwell and decided to come home and leave it for another day. ”

Despite my words holding nothing remotely amusing, Nero’s lips stretch into a smile bright enough to light the world.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“You said come home. And you’re here.”

“Oh.” My cheeks heat instantly.

I hadn’t even noticed the words leaving my mouth—nor when exactly this place became home to me.

Nero laughs.

“I think my plan worked.”

“That was your plan? From the start?”

“I told you I wanted you to spend a lot of time here.”

“A lot of time isn’t the same as all the time, Nero.”

“Semantics,” he shrugs with a wink.

Then his expression softens.

“I don’t care what people say,” he continues. “Or how far the rumours have gone, Nina. I know who you are. What matters to me is this—us. The three of us.”

His hand moves slowly over my belly, and I close my eyes, letting the promise sink in.

I want to ask him how his mother already knows about the pregnancy. We agreed we’d tell both families together. Lysandra shouldn’t know.

But to ask that, I’d have to admit I saw her—and I’m not ready for that conversation. Not yet.

“Did you manage to book the appointment?” he asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

I raise my brows and shake my head.

“No. No one has availability. I’m starting to think we may need to do prenatal care in Athens.”

He frowns. I don’t like the idea either, but suddenly it’s as if all nine hospitals and three medical centres on the island are fully booked.

Not that we ever had many options here. Still, I’ve never had a problem like this before.

“We can bring a doctor to the island,” Nero suggests casually.

I burst into laughter.

“We absolutely cannot.”

“Yes, we can. And that’s what we’ll do if we can’t find a local doctor,” he says firmly.

I want to argue that it’s ridiculous, but the truth is this exaggerated care is exactly what I needed after today.

I rub my nose against his, gently caressing his face.

“Thank you.”

He smiles.

“I have one more item on tonight’s agenda.”

“Tonight has an agenda?”

“It does. We need to choose our wedding date.”

“The date?” I blink, caught off guard.

Of course I knew we’d need to choose one—I just didn’t expect Nero to want to do it so soon.

For the thousandth time since this afternoon, Lysandra’s words echo in my head: That’s what we’ll see.

I’m not superstitious, but the chill those words sent through me is hard to ignore.

“Yes, Miss Nina. You can’t stall me forever.”

“Stall you? You haven’t even given me a ring yet!” I accuse, raising my right hand, where the elastic band Nero tied around my finger days ago still sits.

“I’m glad you said that,” he says, a smug smile overtaking his face.

He reaches into his pocket, and my eyes widen as a small black velvet box appears.

“Nero—”

“I promised I’d replace it. It took a little time because I knew exactly what I was looking for.”

“You didn’t even take a week. That doesn’t count as taking long.”

“If it were up to me, I’d have put a ring on your finger the very next day, Little Fae.”

He opens the box, and my breath catches.

The ring is white gold, simple and smooth, with a single pear-shaped stone at its centre. It gleams in a golden hue that looks like liquid sunlight. I’ve never seen anything like it.

“This stone is called Kavir,” he says. “It comes from a very specific region in the United Arab Emirates. Not Dubai—but it felt right. I wanted a stone from there so that every time you look at your ring, you remember it’s not a prison, Nina.

I don’t expect our marriage to pull you away from your dreams. I just want it to give me the chance to be part of them. ”

I launch myself into his arms before he can say anything else. Papers fly everywhere as I climb onto his lap, covering his face in kisses through tears.

“I love you,” I say between each breathless kiss. “I love you.”

He laughs softly and wipes my tears away.

“Hormones?”

“No. Happiness.”

“Give me your right hand.”

I do, pulling back just enough for him to remove the elastic band and replace it with the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.

I stretch my arm out, fingers spread. The ring is perfect.

“Now that you have a ring,” he says, “can we talk about the date?”

I look down at him with a wicked smile, rocking my hips slowly.

He lets out a low groan.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Now I have other plans.”

And then I kiss him.