Chapter 20 DARING MOMENT WITH THE TIGRESS
JASMINE:
Since Nikolai’s accident, we hadn’t seen eye to eye. I had breakfast, lunch, and dinner, alone. So when Ana told me I was to prepare for a formal dinner tonight, I almost laughed.
“Formal?” I repeated.
“Yes, Miss.”
I looked toward the door where a guard still stood.
My privileges had not been restored, and yet, I was being taken out.
“What am I wearing?” I asked flatly.
Ana hesitated, then stepped toward the wardrobe.
“They were replaced again this morning.”
Of course they were.
Inside hung structured gowns. Dark, tailored dresses, nothing soft, and nothing playful. Everything screamed authority.
I ran my fingers over a black silk dress with sharp shoulders and a fitted waist. It screamed of elegance.
“Who chose them?” I asked.
“The Master.”
I came down the stairs, absolutely embodying the dress he’d picked out for me. But he wasn’t waiting at the bottom like he used to.
Matthew was.
He stood with his hands folded in front of him, expression unreadable, and when I reached the last step he didn’t offer a compliment or even a glance that lingered. He just tilted his head quietly.
“This way, miss.”
He led me through the corridor and out into the evening air, where the car was with Nikolai already inside, waiting.
The drive into Manhattan was silent. There were two SUVs in front and one behind.
Nikolai sat beside me in the back seat, his presence controlled and immovable as ever. He wore black, with no tie and an open collar with sleeves tailored perfectly to his forearms.
He didn’t look at me.
I turned slightly toward him. “Am I being presented again?”
His gaze shifted to me.
“No. You’re being acknowledged.”
Being presented meant I was a spectacle, but being acknowledged… That meant ascertaining my position. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.
We eventually got to the venue, a private penthouse overlooking the Manhattan skyline. It had floor-to-ceiling windows, marble floors polished to mirror brightness, and chandeliers that refracted light like diamonds.
Another extremely luxurious setting.
The moment we stepped out of the car, everyone present stared. Nikolai’s hand settled at the small of my back, possessive but not overt. It felt natural, and I hated that it felt natural.
Inside, conversations quieted as we entered. The capos were already gathered. No one questioned my presence this time. Word had probably traveled— Enzo Ricci’s missing finger had done its job.
We were already midway through cocktails, when the atmosphere shifted.
The elevator doors opened, and she walked in.
An extremely captivating woman in deep red silk that draped around her. She had diamond studs on, with her hair sleeked back. She didn’t have excessive jewellery, her glam was not desperate.
She stank of old money and elegance.
The room acknowledged her instantly. She greeted several men with familiarity, influence, and a hint of flirtation.
Then her gaze landed on Nikolai. I could already sense visible tension between them.
Who was this woman? Could she be the woman Ana told me about? His ex-lover?
“Don Moretti,” she said smoothly.
“Francesca.”
Her eyes moved slowly to me.
“Ah,” she said lightly. “You must be the replacement.”
Of course she was who I thought her to be.
Several men pretended not to listen. I didn’t look away.
“I’m nobody’s replacement.”
Her lips curved faintly. Then she inclined her head slightly, as if accepting a challenge.
“Interesting. You do have a thing for beautiful and daring females, don’t you Moretti?” As she spoke, her eyes remained fixated on mine, scanning, calculation, judging.
She stretched her hands forward, with a wicked smile on her lips. “Lovely to make your acquaintance, La Prescelta.”
I reached out as well. Her grip was firm, almost as if she was asserting dominance. But I didn’t mind. I wasn’t going to be a pawn in whatever mind game she wanted to play.
Just then, dinner began. Unlike the island, I wasn’t seated at Nikolai’s right. I was seated beside him, but slightly angled.
Francesca on the other hand, sat not too close, but close enough to be within Nikolai’s side-eye line. She spoke confidently about logistics in Europe, trade routes, investment strategies, political leverage.
She understood this world fluently. She wasn’t ornamental. She was built for it.
Eventually, I entered the conversation when it shifted to branding expansion in luxury markets.
“I disagree,” I said calmly. “Perception is leverage. The right public association increases legitimacy without altering operational structure.”
Several heads turned, and one capo nodded slowly.
Francesca studied with me.
“You speak like someone who understands influence.”
I was a model, so of course I did.
“I understand visibility,” I replied.
“And the cost of it?” she asked.
I held her gaze.
“I’m learning.” I lowered my tone, as if humbled.
Nikolai simply said nothing. But I felt his attention sharpen.
Then a senior capo, silver-haired, chuckled lightly. “The enchanting Francesca Fletcher, always the Don’s true match.”
The comment was casual. But it was deliberate. The entire room watched Nikolai. He didn’t hesitate, neither did he look at Francesca. He simply placed his hand over mine on the table.
“My choices,” he said calmly, “are intentional.”
Silence followed. Francesca did not react outwardly. But her gaze flickered once, and that was enough.
Much after dinner, I stepped onto the terrace for some air. The city glittered beautifully beneath me. A living constellation.
I didn’t hear it but I felt it. Someone was behind me.
“I was curious about you,” Francesca said, now beside me.
I didn’t turn immediately.
“And?”
“And now I’m less curious.”
I faced her then.
“Disappointed?”
“No.” She smiled faintly. “Concerned.”
“For me?”
“For him.”
That caught my attention.
“Do you know why our relationship ended?” she asked.
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t interested. At least that’s what I told myself.
“He doesn’t love strategically,” she continued. “He chooses.”
The wind lifted her hair slightly. “And when he chooses, he burns everything else.”
Was this supposed to be a warning, or a confession?
“He brought me to dinner, yes. But never ones like this,” she added, laughing quietly.
That landed harder than I expected.
“Be careful,” she said, stepping closer. “Being chosen by him is not the same as being safe with him. The most dangerous monster is always the one who pretends to care.” With that, she stuttered away, leaving only the echo of her words and the expensive scent of her strong perfume.