Chapter 12
Emily was in his house. In his space. Her scent drifted to him from behind. She smelled incredible. Like lavender and vanilla, but not in any way he’d ever encountered before. It was warm and soft, with a hint of something elusive that tugged at him.
He could hardly focus.
Nicolas could feel the heat of her gaze on his back, and hear her soft breaths as she tried to keep up with his long strides.
He slowed down.
“Welcome to your new home,” he announced, opening broad doors to her bedroom.
He had it renovated to her liking, or at least, he hoped he had. It was new territory for him. He’d never lived with a woman before, so he wasn’t entirely sure what decor they preferred. Leaving it to an interior designer also felt impersonal.
So he’d video-called his younger sister, Anna, who lived in Milan. She’d warned him: avoid overusing pink, stick to silk sheets, and keep the designs practical.
Emily’s eyes scanned the space. A smile bloomed across her face, slow and genuine.
Seeing that, he felt more accomplished than he had after his last acquisition.
Note to self: Reward Anna with front-row concert tickets to her favorite boy band, The Evolutionists.
“Thank you.”
His brows furrowed at her. “You don’t have to thank me.”
Her hands pressed at the bed, testing the mattress. He watched as she peeked inside the bathroom before coming back out. She looked like a curious cat. He couldn’t help but wonder if she didn’t have anything else to say. No objections? No more offers?
Most importantly, was she not going to mention him losing his temper at the charity gala?
Because he’d regretted it afterward. He wanted to apologize, but after days apart, bringing it up now almost felt out of place.
So he held it in, much to his displeasure.
Because he hated residual conflict more than anything.
“I’m your husband, Emily.” Her head snapped in his direction. “It’s what I should do. It’s my duty to ensure that you’re well taken care of. At least for a year it is.”
“Well, thank—” Emily caught herself at his brow rising. “It’s much appreciated,” she corrected.
Good girl.
He was quick to shake that heated thought away. “I made dinner in case you’re hungry. You’re not on a diet, are you?” His eyes couldn’t help how they narrowed accusingly.
It looked like she’d lost weight since the last time they’d seen each other. He didn’t like it.
“No, I’m not.”
“Great, because I made enough for four.” He tacitly hinted that she should have seconds. She looked like she needed it. He quietly made it a top priority to fatten her up to a healthy weight while she lived here.
“You know how to cook?” she sputtered.
Her hands flew to her mouth, her cheeks reddening. “Um…sorry…I—”
“Yes, being in the kitchen is my way of unwinding.”
It was true. His mother had taught them early on that a proper meal was more than just food. It was care, connection. She’d let him and his sister help from a young age, flour-dusted fingers and all. Since then, the kitchen had become a refuge. A place tied to happy memories and simpler times.
Within the next few minutes, they were seated in the living room, their plates filled with dinner. Tagliata di Manzo. His signature dish.
“Wow…this looks like it came from a Michelin restaurant.”
“Appreciate the compliment,” he simply said. “Buon appetito.”
Her eyes closed for a prayer. Was she religious?
Her file mentioned the kind of traditional schooling where faith was part of the curriculum.
Not that it mattered. What did was the shape of her brows, earnest in whatever she was telling Him.
The slight pout of her lips. The flush of her cheeks, he slowly realized, was natural.
He didn’t seem to notice when her eyes had reopened.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Yes…I will,” he breathed, his voice dropping lower than he expected.
Her attention went back to her meal. “Mm…” she moaned, completely unaware of how it sounded.
Nicolas’s fork stopped mid-air. He crossed his legs and found a topic to distract himself. To drown out her soft mewls. To stop the unsolicited thoughts clawing at the edges of his composure.
She’s just eating. Get it together.
“Why did you go to the gala and expose Stella for taking your invite? It seems to have caused you more harm than good.”
Emily dabbed at the corners of her mouth with the napkin as she looked at him. She was assessing him.
He smirked. “You don’t have to look at me like that. I’m not the paparazzi searching for some scoop.”
She blinked, the emotion fading. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“Instinct?”
“Yeah.” She set down her napkin.
Her confirmation resonated with him. People like them learned to be guarded when they’ve had their words or actions used against them.
She tossed her hair to the side in thought. His eyes followed the movement. “I didn’t have much of a choice,” she admitted. “Starz pushes Stella a lot, and if I were to complain, they would’ve done nothing. He would’ve done nothing.”
His spine straightened. “By he, do you mean your ex-fiancé?”
Emily’s eyes flew up in surprise at his forwardness. Her reaction told him all that he needed to know.
Mallion was far worse than he’d expected. Nicolas had discovered that he’d been Emily’s first long-term boyfriend. Before him, she only had a six-month fling during university. Mallion must have known this and used it to his advantage.
The end of their relationship must have hurt far more than she was letting on. She looked unaffected though. He couldn’t help but wonder how many years of practice it had taken to perfect this side of her.
Nicolas was tempted to break it. To hear her restraint crack like glass under his blow.
He quickly blinked the impulse away.
Cristo santo…
“Yes,” Emily finally confirmed, oblivious to his thoughts.
“Jake stole my invitation himself. He texted me after the event, explaining that it was important for Stella’s career and all that.
You know how crucial it is to maintain good relationships with these stakeholders, but it wasn’t only that.
I was just a puppet in their little show. ”
Their?
Her face twisted, and for a split second, hatred flared in those golden-brown eyes.
Ah, she meant Jake and Stella’s affair.
Sure enough, Nicolas had eventually found that missing piece to the puzzle. Jake had cheated on Emily.
It was laughable when he was given the pictures of the cheaters from a private investigator. Not because infidelity was in any way amusing, but because the man had fumbled so catastrophically it was absurd.
He had a five-course meal and went for the scraps instead.
Jake’s actions didn’t really surprise Nicolas. Still, for Emily’s sake, he’d hoped it wasn’t that.
A faint stir of pity moved inside his chest.
She suddenly looked lost in her thoughts. A desire to pull her out of them overcame him.
“He who laughs last, laughs best.” His tone was firm. “The game isn’t over until you decide it is, Emily. And now that you bear the Re name, I doubt you’ll be the one to lose.”
Emily paused at the intensity in his eyes.
Before she could say anything, her phone started ringing on the table before them.
Jake’s name popped up on the screen. The heart attached to it brought Nicolas a great deal of annoyance.
His fingers unknowingly tightened around the fork he held as Emily looked back up at him with round eyes. “Can I take this?”
He had no right to deny her to speak to him so he nodded. However, he was burning on the inside. He didn’t like the fact that they were still in contact after everything that had happened between them.
He’d expected Emily to leave the room for privacy. He was surprised when she slid the answer icon and put Mallion on speaker, right in front of him.
“Babe, where are you right now?!” the piece of shit yelled. “The password to your condo isn’t working and no one’s answering.”
Wait. He thought she said they’d broken up. Why would Mallion be visiting her? And why the fuck was he calling her ‘babe’?
“I found a place to hide. I couldn’t afford to have the papz find me,” Emily replied meekly.
Nicolas’s eyes snapped up from the phone at her change of tone.
What the…
She sounded like a weak damsel in distress.
What was going on? Was she putting on a show?
His head tilted, intrigued.
What are you up to, my little actress?
“Okay, so where is your new place?” Mallion pushed for more information.
“I can’t say right now, but you don’t have to worry about me. What about you? I saw that a staff member said some crazy things. Are things alright over there?” she asked in panic.
Nicolas’s lips twitched.
Oh.
“Thanks to whoever the fuck that was, we had to do some damage control. Babe, you should post something on your social media to deny everything as well.”
He still thinks they’re together?
“I’d do it right now, but I don’t manage my accounts. Talia does. I’ll make sure she helps in any way she can tomorrow,” she replied.
Lies.
“Okay, I’ll see you when I can. Love you.”
Oh, yes, he does.
She hung up the phone in disgust.
“I take it you’re not going to do as he wishes.”
Nicolas couldn’t help the newfound interest that surged through him. Was this what she’d meant by that ‘thing’ she had to do before publicly announcing their marriage? Was it getting revenge on Mallion? If that was the case, count him the fuck in.
She crossed her arms, her eyes defiant. “As much as it may come as a shock to you, Mr. Re, I am no fool.”
“Please, call me Nicolas,” he purred, propping a hand beneath his chin. “We’re married, after all. If others heard you speaking to me so formally, whatever would they think?”
Emily’s cheeks warmed. “Nicolas.”
Fuck me.
The sound of his name on her lips was intoxicating. It rolled off her tongue like it belonged there.
Now armed with new insights into her and Jake’s situation, he found her even more compelling.
This little lamb was no lamb at all.
Emily was a tigress in disguise. One he’d fully support to get any semblance of payback, no matter the cost.
Because if this was her fight, then it was his now too.