Chapter 43 Chapter 43
Chapter 43
Nina’s POV
My heart jolted like a live wire when the bang echoed through the door. The wood rattled in its frame, and I froze mid-step, fingers still hovering over the emerald gown I had tossed aside.
“Don’t you dare waste our time,” a voice growled from the hallway.
Dante.
His words sliced through the air, sharp and impatient. I crept to the door on tiptoe, pressing my eye to the peephole. He was already striding away, broad shoulders cutting a path down the corridor. His black tuxedo hugged his frame perfectly, the fabric gleaming under the chandelier lights like polished obsidian. Sharp lines accentuated his height, the crisp white shirt collar framing his neck. I did not want to admit it, but he looked handsome. Devastatingly so. The kind of handsome that belonged on magazine covers or in boardrooms where deals were struck with a single glance. But he had been so mean to me—threats, glares, that cold dismissal. Admitting anything good about him felt like betrayal.
I yanked the door open wider and slipped out, bare feet padding silently on the cool marble floor. The house hummed with activity downstairs, distant clinks of glass and murmurs floating up the grand staircase. I descended slowly, hand trailing the polished banister, the air thick with the scent of fresh flowers and something baking in the kitchen.
Nana bustled in the open kitchen doorway, her apron dusted with flour, gray hair pinned back as she kneaded dough on a massive island counter. She glanced up, eyes crinkling with a mix of worry and warmth, but she did not speak. Just nodded once, like she knew better than to get involved in whatever storm was brewing.
In the living room, Isabella held court like a queen. Two makeup artists hovered around her, one blending foundation on her flawless cheekbones while the other pinned a diamond clip into her upswept hair. She wore a black classy gown that screamed elegance—floor-length silk with a high neck and long sleeves, the material shimmering subtly under the crystal chandelier. It hugged her curves without revealing too much, making her look powerful and untouchable.
Jealousy twisted in my gut. That could have been my dress. Something safe. Something that did not scream vulnerability. I hissed low in my throat, crossing my arms.
“Isabella, why did you swap my clothes?”
She did not even look up at first. Just waved a manicured hand dismissively, her reflection in the handheld mirror showing a perfect red lip curl. Then she hissed back, voice dripping venom. “Don’t let me make the bodyguards get you. Besides, we are late. The dresses are befitting for a whore.”
The words landed like a punch. The two makeup artists gasped in unison, hands freezing mid-motion—one with a brush hovering near Isabella’s eyelid, the other clutching a palette. Their eyes darted between us, wide with shock.
Heat flooded my face, anger boiling over. I stepped closer, fists clenched at my sides. “Says the biggest whore, begging for a threesome when no one wants you.”
Isabella’s head snapped up. Her chair scraped back as she stood, silk whispering against the floor. Her hand flashed out, aiming for my cheek in a sharp slap. I braced for the sting, but it never came.
Enzo materialized out of nowhere, his arm shooting between us like a barrier. “Not today, ladies.”
He was dressed in black attire too—a tailored suit that made him look sharper than ever, the jacket open to reveal a silk tie knotted perfectly. His hair was slicked back, dark waves tamed into a sleek style that highlighted his chiseled jaw and playful eyes. Handsome. Effortlessly so, like he had stepped out of a cologne ad.
Isabella whirled on him, cheeks flushed. “Better warn this little bitch. My patience is running out.”
I could not hold back. “Well, am I lying? After parading yourself, did any of the men fuck you?”
The room went dead silent. Isabella’s glass cup—filled with sparkling water—slipped from her fingers. It shattered on the hardwood floor in a spray of shards and liquid, glittering like broken stars. She snatched up the largest piece, the sharp tip jagged and lethal, and pointed it straight at my throat. “I will make you pay!”
Her voice cracked with fury, eyes blazing. The makeup artists backed away, one whispering into her phone. Nana paused in the kitchen doorway, flour-dusted hands clutching a towel.
Before I could spit back a reply, Enzo scooped me up in one fluid motion. His arms locked around my waist, lifting me off the ground like I weighed nothing. I yelped, legs kicking uselessly as he turned and strode out of the room in long, purposeful steps. The house blurred past—ornate rugs, gilded frames on the walls, the faint echo of Isabella’s hissed curses following us.
He kicked my bedroom door open and dropped me onto the bed. The mattress bounced under me, springs creaking as I landed in a heap of tangled limbs.
“Easy there, kitten,” he giggled, the sound light and teasing despite the tension.
I pushed myself up on my elbows, glaring. “Get out.”
“Now get dressed.”
I raised my eyebrows, crossing my arms defiantly. He just grinned wider and plopped down into the chair by the reading table, legs stretching out casually.
“Yes, I will watch. I am not going anywhere. I might have to agree with Dante. You have been trouble lately. It is cute, but this mask auction ball party is very important. Dante has already left because we are late. I might be fond of you, but I am disciplined and have priorities.”
His tone shifted at the end—stern, unyielding. The playful spark in his eyes dimmed just enough to show he meant it. No arguing. No escape.
I sighed, defeat settling heavy in my chest. Fine. If they wanted a show, they would get one. I pushed off the bed and headed to the adjoining bathroom, slamming the door behind me. The tile was cool under my feet, steam already rising as I twisted the shower knob to hot. Water cascaded down, pounding against my skin like a thousand tiny fists. I stood there, letting it soak through my hair, rivulets tracing my spine.
Deep breath in. Hold. Out.
I vowed it silently, eyes squeezed shut. I would make them pay. All of them. For the swapped dresses, the threats, the cage they called home. The kiss from Nikolai still lingered on my lips, a confusing burn that fueled my resolve. They thought they could break me. They were wrong.
I scrubbed quickly, lathering soap that smelled of jasmine and vanilla, rinsing away the grime of the day. Towel-dried my hair into loose waves, then stepped back into the room. Enzo had not moved, his gaze following me with lazy interest.
I ignored him. Walked to the bed and eyed the options. The crimson one called to me—dangerous red, like fresh blood. I slipped it on, the satin gliding over my skin like a lover’s touch. No bra. The fabric clung to my curves, the back dipping low to expose my spine all the way to the dimples above my hips. The bodice molded to my chest, nipples peeking through the thin material in faint outlines. The skirt slit high on one thigh, revealing flashes of leg with every shift. It copied the silhouette of my dainty body perfectly—elegant yet provocative, a weapon in fabric form.
I turned to the vanity and picked up the black mask. Lace edges framed my eyes, feathers curling at the temples like dark wings. It tied with silk ribbons, transforming my face into something mysterious, untamed.
Enzo stood slowly, his chair scraping back. He looked at me, really looked, from the mask down to the hem brushing my ankles. His chest rose with a sharp inhale.
“What the fuck, Nina,” he said, voice rough. Then he cursed in some strange language—Italian maybe, or Russian—words tumbling out in a heated rush. His eyes darkened, jaw tightening as he took a step closer.
I met his gaze steadily, chin lifted. Let him look. Let them all look. This was my armor now.
The air between us crackled, his cologne mixing with the jasmine on my skin. He reached out, fingers brushing the lace strap on my shoulder, but I stepped back.
“Time to go,” I said coolly.
He nodded once, still staring, then gestured to the door. We walked out together, my heels—strappy black ones I had grabbed from the closet—clicking on the marble. Down the stairs, past the living room where Isabella now sat composed again, makeup flawless, ignoring us completely. Nana had vanished back to her dough.
Outside, the night air kissed my exposed back, raising goosebumps. The chopper waited on the pad, rotors idling low. Enzo helped me in, his hand warm on my elbow. We lifted off smoothly, city lights falling away below us like scattered jewels.
“No no , you have to change !” A stern masculine voice came stopping me from my track.