Chapter 2
two
. . .
Nicolette
I heard familiar voices before I even reached the double mahogany doors of my father’s office.
There’s my father’s familiar low baritone, punctuated by the occasional thud of a fist against the table, followed by the calm tone from my older brother, Lorenzo, and the bored tone of my younger brother, Matteo.
They were talking business, that much I was sure of, and they were doing it without me.
Again.
It had become aggravatingly routine—them locking themselves away, pretending I didn’t exist unless they needed something signed or delivered.
I’d spent the last three weeks buried in logistics, handling shipments and negotiations, making sure our operations didn’t crumble under the weight of our enemies breathing down our necks just waiting to swoop in the moment we fuck up.
And still, when it came to sitting at the table, the table I’d earned a place at, they treated me like I was some fragile thing that might crack under pressure.
The only thing cracking these days was my patience.
I didn’t bother knocking on the door. I shoved it open and walked in, each click of my heels against the marble loud in the sudden silence. All eyes flicked to me—my father at the head of the table, stone-faced as ever, with my two brothers flanking him like the eager lapdogs they were.
“Nice of you to join us,” my father said dryly. He didn’t stand, nor did her smile. He never did when it came to me.
“I wasn’t aware there was a meeting,” I replied, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Or maybe I was just conveniently left out. Again.”
My younger brother, Matteo, smirked. At twenty-three years old, he was dripping in arrogance and entitlement, no doubt thanks to our late mother’s penchant for spoiling him rotten. “Maybe because you’re better suited to picking out centerpieces than dealing with guns and property disputes.”
My fingers itched to show him exactly what I was better suited for and put him through the wall. “Cute. Really.”
He leaned back in his chair, oozing faux innocence.
“I’m just saying, Nico. You’re the only woman in the family since Mom died.
Dad’s not exactly going to throw you into the mud.
Why would you even want to be there? Shouldn’t you be, oh, I don’t know, preparing to marry some poor bastard and cement an alliance like a good little princess? ”
A bitter laugh clawed its way out of my throat. “Maybe because I’d rather build this empire than be handed off like property to keep it intact.”
His smirk faltered, just for a second, before he opened his mouth again. Whatever he was about to say didn’t make it past his thoughts.
“Enough,” our father barked, looking between the two of us. “Matteo, shut your mouth. Nicolette, sit down.”
I sat, but I didn’t relax. Inside, I was a storm barely contained, a churning mix of fury and exhaustion.
How many times had I proven myself? How many late nights had I spent chasing leads, running numbers, and taking meetings my father couldn’t be bothered to attend?
But all of it meant nothing, apparently, because I was born with the wrong fucking anatomy.
Lorenzo, my older brother, finally broke the silence. His voice was calm, measured, the way it always was when he tried to play peacemaker. “What about the contracts I left with you, Nico? The new warehouse acquisition and the supplier terms?”
Finally. A chance to show them I wasn’t just a decoration.
I reached into my leather portfolio and slid the documents across the table.
“Finalized, notarized, and already filed with the city clerk’s office.
I included a rider that locks the supplier in for five years with no option to back out unless they want to pay triple penalties. ”
Lorenzo flipped through the pages, brows lifting as he read. “Impressive.”
Matteo leaned across the table, curiosity piqued despite himself. “How the hell did you get Mancini to agree to this? He never signs long-term.”
I met his eyes with a small smirk. “Maybe because I know how to negotiate without swinging my dick around the table and pissing on the floor to stake my claim.”
Lorenzo chuckled under his breath when Matteo scowled. Our father finally looked up at me. For one heartbeat, I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d acknowledge the work I’d done and give me more than a look of disdain. Then his phone rang and he answered without hesitation.
“Romano.”
Just like that, I was invisible again. Father waved us out with a dismissive flick of his hand, already engrossed in the call.
I stood slowly, every muscle in my body tight with restraint.
I wanted to scream, to demand he see me and admit I wasn’t just some expendable pawn in his fucked-up game for power.
But I didn’t. I walked out, my head held high, because I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me crack.
Outside, Matteo couldn’t resist running his mouth again. “Wow. All that work for a half-second glance. Bravo, Nico.”
I spun on him. “Say that again, and I’ll show you exactly what I did to Mancini to get him to sign.”
He flinched but covered it with a smirk. “Sure you will. We know you’re all talk, sis. Save it for negotiations.”
“Enough,” Lorenzo said again, stepping between us. He glared at Matteo before turning his familiar brown gaze to me. His expression softened. “You know how father is, Nico. Praise isn’t part of his vocabulary.”
“Oh, really?” I stared at him, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “Then what the hell is?”
“Results. And time.” His gaze softened further, and I almost hated him for the pity I saw swirling in those dark depths. “There’s a meeting with the Moretti’s in three days. We’re going to try to bury the bad blood and forge a truce. Be there. And don’t do anything stupid to jeopardize this.”
I narrowed my eyes at his warning. “Because I’m such a liability, right?”
“No. Because of your relationship with the girl.” When I didn’t say anything, he sighed. “And because you’re good at what you do. We need that, Nico. Just … keep it together.”
“She won’t. She never does.”
Matteo snorted as he walked away, attention waning when our focus wasn’t on him. I was tempted to throw something at him, but I crossed my arms and squeezed my elbows tight, ignoring the sensation. I watched him disappear down the hall, and a new vow formed like iron in my chest.
I would be there. And I would all of them, that I wasn’t just a daughter filling a chair until she got sold off for some political bullshit against her will. I was the sharpest weapon this family had, and I was done being ignored.