Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
My sister and I had snuck into one of Matteo’s many clubs. At the time, we didn’t know it belonged to Matteo Cattaneo. If we had, we never would have gone inside. Everyone knew the Cattaneo name. Growing up, I frequently heard it used in my own home. They were both feared and envied by my family and others. That was only because everyone wanted what the Cattaneo family had. Not only the money but also the power and respect that came with it.
Neither my sister nor I had been to a club before. We were too young to be allowed in the door, but Mona is model beautiful. Her red hair is silky and straight. It catches your eye. Mine is wild and untamed, no matter how hard I try to manage it.
The man at the front door had let us in. It only took Mona giving him a smile for him to open the door for us. The second we entered, we both knew we were in over our heads. We should have known we would be.
By chance, we’d been in the city with our family staying at a hotel. Mona had to find a wedding dress for her upcoming arranged marriage, one that she had been dreading but had no other choice in. We thought it would be a great idea to sneak out. Mona wanted one night before she had to tie herself to a man she would never love.
Back home, sneaking away wasn’t an option. We lived on a giant estate that our father’s men kept under heavy guard. To say we were a bit sheltered is an understatement. It wasn’t often we were allowed to leave. My brother was paranoid and a bit crazy.
The crowd had been thick with people everywhere. I could barely speak over the music. I was mesmerized by my surroundings. It didn’t take long before I lost my sister. I had no idea she’d been found by Matteo that night. Nikolai, on the other hand, found me. I thought he was a bouncer or security guard with the way he’d cornered me in the hallway when I tried to make an escape from the crowd.
He bombarded me with questions, saying I shouldn’t be there. He wanted to know what my name was. At that moment, I panicked, and I might have pulled the fire alarm. I made my escape, and so did my sister in the mad dash of everyone fleeing the club. We both thought we’d never see them again. That’s laughable to think back on now.
Even back then, when I thought I’d made an escape from Nikolai, I hadn’t. He ruled my thoughts. I made up little stories about him in my mind, imagining who he was. If life were different, and I hadn't been born an O'Haire, could I have been with someone like Nikolai?
The answer is definitely no. It doesn’t matter either way. Nikolai can’t stand me. No matter how nice I try to be, it only pisses him off more. I'm not sure why I bother anymore, or why my stupid schoolgirl crush persists. He’s made it crystal clear that he doesn’t share in the sentiment.
It doesn’t help that he’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life. His black hair, which occasionally grows too long and falls to cover his icy-blue eyes, adds to his allure. When he’s pissed, he runs his fingers through it. My fingers always itch to do the same, but I know better than to touch him. His reaction to me running into him earlier confirmed that he doesn’t want any part of me touching him.
I don't understand how he's only a few months older than me. I think he might be three times my size. He also has tattoos running up and down his arms. There is one that always peeks out the top of his shirt. But I know his childhood was very different from mine. Matteo raised Nikolai as if he were his own son. He even gave him his last name.
“Go,” Nikolai orders the second the elevator doors open. I hurry off before he barks at me again.
“Morning, Marco.” When I pass by, I wave at the guard standing by the door.
“Morning, Riley,” he responds. “Good luck on your calculus exam.”
“Thanks. I—”
“Go,” Nikolai orders again, cutting me off. His hand goes to my back, moving me along.
“You don’t have to be rude.”
Nikolai opens the car door for me. “You don’t have to talk to every fucking man you see.”
“You’re—” He shuts the door on me, starting to piss me off. I let a lot of his grumpiness slide because I know he’s angry at the world, but he’s starting to push my buttons now. I don’t need to be bullied at home or school.
“Seat belt,” he snaps, starting up the car. The engine of the sports car roars to life. I press my lips together and clip it on.