Nico

“More beer?” Jake, my campaign manager and closest friend, asks.

“Whisky,” I tell him, “I need it.”

He smirks as he pours me a shot and slides the tumbler across the brass table in my home office.

“You look like you need a shot or five,” he mutters, trying and failing to sound sympathetic.

I sigh and grab the tumbler between two fingers and gulp it down.

“Send it coming.”

The last one week has been a rollercoaster of some sorts.

For starters the campaign strategy my manager employed surreptitiously flopped to the ground as a new opponent I hadn’t even known existed one-upped me with a better strategy.

Nobody ever one-upped me in my game. No one ever outsmarted me. It was more of shock as a result of the hit than anything that had my crew reeling and unable to immediately come up with a better campaign strategy.

Never again. I know I should have seen it coming but I guess I never thought anybody would have it in their agenda to mess with me and go down in my bad books in the process. I just have to find whoever this newbie is and squash him enough to make him back off.

On the other hand, the Armani household has been sent to chaos ever since Brianna’s arrival a week ago. It is no news that my mother hates her guts and even though I feel the same way because she reminds me of Arianna, I have other plans with her and until that is fulfilled, every other person is going to have to pause on their hating game.

It is not helping the Armani women’s case that all the domestic staff is quickly warming up to Brianna’s presence and the public is going berserk at the news that we are still together.

We had to attend a press conference two days after her arrival and like me, the public was stunned at how different Brianna Page looked in her designer clothes and perfect body.

I gulp down the shot of whisky and revel in the burning sensation that hit my throat as I swallow.

I hate thinking about Brianna.

Jake’s head shoots up from behind his laptop, “The Morning House is requesting a morning show with Brianna.”

Oh fuck! “You’ve gotta be kidding me?”

“Believe me, I kid you not,” he taps a pen on the laptop screen, “I just went through the email.”

“I don’t want her on screen anymore, Jake.”

“This might be good for us, you know, the publicity is great after you know . . .”

He means after the failed campaign.

I don’t need publicity, I just need to end someone’s miserable career and take back New Jersey.

“I don’t want her on screen, anymore,” I repeat. Brianna hates me now, I see it every day in her eyes whenever she ever decides to look my way and that is not often. She can decide to ruin me if she wanted to while on screen and I absolutely cannot risk that.

No one needs to know how much of a bad husband I am when all I need them to think of is me in an opposite light.

Jake shrugs. “Man, you can't hide the fact that you’ve got a hot wife and I know you’re on the verge of a divorce but the public can't get enough of her. I mean, I’ve seen her like what, once since she got back and even I can’t get –”

I shoot him a look and he automatically shushes up.

I can't think of Brianna that way and since I can't, no one else around me should.

“Think of something else,” I tell him.

“Like what?”

“Beats me. You’re the manager, that’s what I fucking pay you for.”

“Right, Mr. Armani,” he mocks, “but if you could consider –”

The door to my home office swings open and Brianna strides in, her face in a small frown and her hair in a messy bun that makes her looks even more attractive.

What the hell is wrong with me?

She stops in front of me, “We need to talk.”

I glare at her, “My office is off-limits to you, Brianna.”

She ignores my condescending tone, “We need to talk. Now.”

“No one tells me what the fuck to do.”

Recently, she has a knack for bringing out emotions from me and I hate the fact that I lose control of my emotions when I’m with her.

I almost never lash out unless I have to and she could never manage to bring out a single emotion from me in the past.

As an answer to my statement, Brianna turns and sends a sweet smile Jake’s way, “I’ll like to speak to my husband, could you give us some privacy, please?”

Jake has always been a hard dude, that’s one of the reasons he has been my friend and manager for as long as he has but now he has a look of utter submission on his face, like Brianna could tell him to poke a finger into a fiery flame and he’ll do so without hesitation.

“Talk to you later, man,” he says without sparing me a glance, “I’ll go come up with some strategies for the campaign and run it by you when the missus is done with you.”

He winks.

As he leaves I force myself not to admit how good Brianna looks in a plain jeans and a white shirt while still maintaining the cold glare on my face.

“You got my attention,” I snarl, “What do you want?”

“Good,” she crosses her hands across her chest and for a second, my gaze is drawn to the tiny lifting of her breasts, “Why the hell is Carla still here?”

“What?” my eyes shoot up to hers.

“Carla,” she shoots back, “your whore.”

“Watch your tone, Brianna,” I warn, “You don’t want to mess with me today.”

“You said she will be gone. It’s been one week and don’t think I don’t know she spends every night in your room.”

“What has that got to do with you?”

“I don’t give a fuck who you fuck, Nico,” she spits, “But I will not be disrespected by you during my stay here, and flaunting your mistress while we remain married is a disrespect to me.”

I don’t care much about Carla other than the fact that she is a warm body to heat up my bed and a warm mouth around my cock. I could have gotten rid of her a long time ago but if there is anything I preferred having in my life, it is stability and having one mistress shows stability for me more than the usual switches.

But like Brianna, Carla is a substitute for the woman I really wanted and it is on the plus side for me that she has a banging body she knows how to make good use of.

But I am not about to give Brianna the satisfaction of having that piece of information.

“I want her gone, Nico.”

I spring to my feet, angrily, “Nobody gets to fucking order me around, Brianna.”

“I’m not ordering you.”

“Yeah? ‘Cos it doesn’t seem like it.”

“Come on, Nico, you gave me your word,” she cocks a brow, “and it’ll be a shame to realize that your word don’t mean shit.”

Well hello Brianna Page. Not only has she now gotten a spine, Brianna has somehow gotten smarter. Or she has always been and I just never realized.

“Fine,” I walk around the table to the spot Jake sat a minute ago and pour myself another shot of whiskey, “you want her gone, fine, I’ll send her packing. Satisfied?”

She smirks, visibly satisfied, “Good. One more thing.”

“Fucking hell,” I down the shot of whisky in one gulp, “How fucking needy can you get?”

“Just one more thing, Nico.”

“Fine. Spill.”

She waits a beat before she says, “I need the documents.”

“What documents?”

“The documents handing over the hotel in New York to me. You weren’t bluffing about that were you?”

Resisting the urge to blow her off, I stride back to my desk and grab the documents from the drawer. I already prepared the documents beforehand and was ready to give it to her at her request. The hotel in New York meant next to nothing to me because I had other hotels scattered all over the country and if handing it over to her is what I had to give up to get what I want then so be it.

I hand her the documents, “All you’ve gotta do is sign and it’s all yours. Now leave,” I pour another shot of whisky, “And never come in here without my order to do so. I never want to see your face unless I have to.”

“You know,” she starts, walking up to me in measured slow steps, “I never really understand why you hated me, dear husband.”

I shoot her a cold look, “You’re a walking reminder of her.”

“Of Arianna?”

My fingers grip the whisky glass tightly.

“It’s not my fault you got me instead, Nico, if anything it is entirely your fault.”

“Don’t . . .” I warn, hoping she will take the dangerous tone creeping into my voice as a sign to leave.

She doesn’t.

“You act like I asked to be married off to you. Like I wanted to be thrown like a second luggage . . . like some sort of Plan B into a marriage where I was treated like trash.”

“But you liked it didn’t you?” I shoot back, “you liked the fame and the status it brought to your name, you liked being a Mrs. Armani.”

“I was a fool!”

“Finally something that we agree on.”

“But it was all you. This marriage, our whole predicament, it was all you!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“It was you who decided to crash the car on that fateful day and fucking kill the woman you love!”

Out of control, I hurl the glass in my hand across the wall by my side, watching the pieces of glasses shatter across the room.

Brianna flinches, even though the mess is nowhere close to her and I lunge for her, grabbing her shoulders between my hands.

“She isn’t dead!” I yell between gritted teeth.

“Oh, she very much is,” she whispers.

I shake her, “Don’t you ever, Brianna Page. Don’t you ever, talk about Arianna that way. Ever. I’ve never hit a woman before but I sure as hell can end your fucking life you fucking hear me!”

Her eyes widen an inch but she doesn’t push me away. “Let me go, Nico.”

I release her and with my back to her I say, “That’s the only warning you get, Brianna.”

Brianna

I slam the papers on the study table in front of Rosa Armani as in the study of my new home.

Her dark eyes shoot up to mine, irritation flashing across her face.

She regards me in that bigger-than-thou look, “And what are those?”

I shrug indignantly, “Resignation papers.”

Shock settles itself on her attractive features, “Resignation? I never said anything about resigning.”

“Well,” my eyes trail from her to her daughter who is shooting daggers at me from behind Rosa. “it’s your choice, really. You either resign or I have no choice but to fire you. Now think what the press will make of that?”

She springs up, her anger evident from the scowl of her face and the tightness of her fist. “The hotel firmly belongs to the Armanis. If you think I’m just going to let you get your greasy hands on –”

“Too late, Rosa,” I shake my head ruefully, “just a little too late. The hotel is already greasy from my touch.”

“What do you mean?” Rica asks. It is probably the first time Nico’s sister is speaking to me directly but I’m too busy enjoying the moment to acknowledge that fact.

Most times when she talks about me, it’s either behind my back or to slander me on social media but never has she spoken to me directly in the past.

“I mean, Hotel Deluxe now exclusively belongs to me.”

“No way in he–”

“So technically, I have the right to fire anyone I wish to,” I smirk at my mother-in-law, “I’m honored to make you the first on the list.”

“I don’t believe you,” Rosa says, heatedly, “Nico would never let himself be tricked into doing something like this especially by someone like you.”

Oh, how much I have been waiting for this moment and it is finally here.

With an indifferent shrug, I hand her a copy of the document. “I’m glad you feel that way, Rosa. Go through the files in the document, now, will you? You see any sign of fraud sue me.” I smirk, “Also, don’t hesitate to take out your things from your former office.”

“This won’t sail through,” Rosa retorts to my retreating back, “you’re not going to get away with this, you leech.”

Well, let’s see who is going to stop me, Rosa.

Immediately I step into the hallway, I feel a hand tug at my arm and I spin to find Rica behind me.

She is the shortest of the Armanis with a petite dude that makes her pleasing to the eyes. Her Italian heritage is evident in her long dark hair and Italian shaped nose and she has a slightly tinged accent because she spent more time in Italy with her father than the rest of the family.

“You can't do this,” she whispers, “you don’t know it but we already have to deal with a lot.”

Oh, I know how much they have to deal with and I can't say I don’t have a hand in that either, but now is not the time to revel about that.

“What are you going to do? Post about it?”

Her brows furrow in annoyance, “You can’t—”

“Oh I can. The hotel belongs to me now so I can do anything I wish to do with. I can demolish the whole thing and decide to build a small pet shelter there and nobody can stop me.”

Rica visibly pales.“Is that what you plan on doing?”

Typical rich girl response at having to lose money even though their whole family is swimming in tons of it.

“No,” I tell her, “but I could.”

She relaxes.

“I had a job before I was thrown into a marriage with your family,” I tell her sincerely, “remember that?”

I see her noticeably resist the urge to roll her eyes, “Some voluntary thing that sounded destitute.”

“Destitute huh? well that sounded destitute to you guys was all that kept me going at the moment. All that kept me busy and stopped me from spending the months after losing my sister in my own head. But your mother took that away from me. Snatched it and threw it away like a piece of rag doll from the gutters.”

I watch, satisfied as she clamps her mouth shut.

“I hope you understand where I’m coming from, Rica. But then,” I leave her there and start making my way back, “feel free to make a post about it.”

Interpretation: She can go to hell as many times as she wishes to.

I never cared about her anyway.