Greetings sweet people....
How are you?
Please ignore the typo mistakes.
Enjoy!!
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Sam's mind was racing as he walked alongside Hermione toward the entrance of Emiliano Enterprises. Rocco Ben Emiliano-the deadliest assassin and second-in-command of the Ventures Mafia King-was waiting for them inside. Sam couldn't shake off his unease, especially now that he knew Hermione had arranged a meeting with such a dangerous man.
The Emiliano family had deep roots in the fashion world, known for their dominance in New Zealand's luxury fashion. But their darker side-their ties to the underworld-was something Sam was all too familiar with. He wondered why Hermione would entertain an offer from someone like the chairman of Emiliano, even if it was for a business deal. Yet, the personal email from the chairman himself seemed to have piqued her interest.
Despite her confidence, Sam's instincts screamed caution. People like Rocco weren't known for playing by the rules. They lived by power and control. Hermione, however, had reassured him that if the deal wasn't favorable, they could walk out unharmed. Still, Sam doubted the simplicity of such a promise. He knew the mafia world too well to believe they would simply let things go if things didn't go their way.
Marco, the driver, expertly parked the car in front of the glass entrance. The place looked heavily guarded. The security was tight, with men in black shades, their faces as expressionless as the stone sculptures guarding ancient temples. Sam scanned the perimeter. It was just as he expected: every inch of this place was under tight surveillance, and these guards were trained to spot the slightest threat.
Sam stepped out of the car first, adjusting his own dark shades. He fit right in, cold and intimidating, with his sharp gaze assessing every corner. He didn't wait long before Hermione followed, stepping out of the car with the same grace and authority she carried everywhere. Her black stilettos clicked sharply on the pavement as she moved with the confidence of a queen.
As they walked toward the entrance, Sam whispered under his breath, "You're aware? Rocco is an assassin and second only to the Mafia King?"
Hermione turned her head slightly, her cold, commanding voice cutting through the tension. "The chairman made it clear-if I don't want a partnership, I can walk out unharmed. And if Emiliano thinks he can intimidate me, I'll break his bones. Simple as that."
Sam was stunned. Hermione's fearlessness always impressed him, but this time it was something else entirely. She was ready to stand face-to-face with one of the deadliest men in the world without a hint of fear. Sam's own suspicions began to churn. Who was this chairman? Was he just a business magnate-or was he more deeply involved in the mafia than anyone realized?
His thoughts swirled, but he kept his posture rigid and emotionless as they walked forward, ready for whatever awaited them.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Nedvar parked his navy blue Audi in front of the main entrance and stepped out, adjusting his jacket as he made his way to the door. He rang the bell, and moments later, the door swung open, revealing a young woman whose face lit up at the sight of him.
"Ned! What a pleasant surprise," she beamed, pulling him into a warm hug. Nedvar chuckled, returning the embrace. "Where's Ethan?" he asked as he moved toward the living room.
Before she could respond, a deep, familiar voice filled the space.
"Come stai, figlio mio?"
(How are you, my son?)
Nedvar paused and turned, spotting his father, Edouard Matteo Wyatt, lounging on the couch, a glass of rum in hand. Nedvar's smile widened as he approached and embraced him. "I'm fine, Dad. How about you?"
"Getting old but still kicking," Edouard replied with a sly grin. "How's work?"
"Stressful as usual," Nedvar shrugged, "but nothing I can't handle."
"Good," his father muttered, rolling his eyes slightly as if unimpressed by the bravado.
Nedvar then turned to the young woman, Serafina Gaira Wyatt, or Sera for short, as she handed him a glass of water. "How are you, Sera?"
"Busy taking care of the big baby," she teased, nodding, eliciting a hearty laugh from Nedvar.
"Laughing at your elder brother isn't very dignified," a voice chimed in from the other side of the room, and Nedvar turned to see Aldo Davide Wyatt, his older brother, entering with his usual dramatic flair.
"Well, well, if it isn't Dr. Aldo, gracing us with his presence!" Nedvar shot back, placing a hand on his chest in mock surprise.
Aldo smirked. "Little grasshopper thinks he can mock the master, huh?" he quipped, the playful banter continuing as their father shook his head in amusement.
The brothers shared a quick hug, and Aldo, never missing a chance, smacked Nedvar on the head. In retaliation, Nedvar punched Aldo in the stomach, causing a groan to escape his brother's lips.
"You two are impossible," Sera said, laughing as she returned to the kitchen.
Aldo leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Getting bolder by the day, aren't we, dear wife?"
Sera shook her head with a smile as she poured wine for the men. The conversation soon shifted from family banter to more serious matters, with Nedvar and Aldo discussing their work in the family business. Despite Aldo's career as a doctor, he remained deeply involved in the mafia operations as the eldest son.
As they spoke, Nedvar noticed the easy dynamic between Aldo and Sera, their affection clear in every gesture. He envied their connection, the kind of love he aspired, that had its ups and downs but remained unshakable. Aldo, in many ways, was like a golden retriever-loyal, loving, and protective, always clinging to Sera. Nedvar admired that about his brother, even if he teased him for it.
Suddenly, a small set of footsteps echoed through the hallway, and Nedvar's eyes brightened. "Dada!" Ethan's excited voice rang out as he ran into the living room, his face lighting up as he spotted his father.
Nedvar knelt down and scooped up his son. "How's my little man?"
"I missed you, Dada!" Ethan cried, wrapping his small arms around Nedvar's neck. It had only been three days, but for Ethan, it felt like forever.
Nedvar held him close, feeling the warmth of his son's love wash over him. "I missed you too, baby."
As the nannies stepped back, an older woman entered the room, her eyes warm as she took in the scene.
"Mein Sohn,"
(My son,)
she whispered softly, and Nedvar turned to face her, his mother, Arne Chiara Wyatt. He kissed her on the forehead, his smile softening as he sat beside her on the couch.
Sera returned, serving cake, which Ethan eagerly dug into while explaining the recipe in his own imaginative way. Nedvar watched him with amusement, savoring the simple joy of these moments.
Then, as if on cue, Sera's teasing voice broke the comfortable silence. "So, Ned, your mom said you might have someone special?"
Nedvar's smile faltered, and he quickly stuffed a large bite of cake into his mouth to avoid answering, but Aldo, never one to miss an opportunity, jumped in.
"Come on, Ned. Does she even know about Ethan?" Aldo asked, feigning ignorance as the entire room turned their attention to him, including Ethan, who perked up at hearing his name.
"No," Nedvar replied quietly, his eyes dropping to his plate.
"So, she doesn't even know you exist?" Aldo pressed, raising an eyebrow.
Nedvar shot him a look but said nothing. "It's... complicated."
Sera leaned in, curiosity all over her face. "Tell us about her, Ned. Who is she?"
"Eth baby, go to your play room, I will come after sometime," Nedvar softly spoke while rubbed his back lovingly, Ethan nodded and ran upstairs with his little feet. The door click indicated that Ethan entered the room. Ethan is not allowed to close his room door, as he had hurt himself in the past.
Nedvar took a deep breath, his fingers nervously tapping the edge of his glass. "Two years ago, in America..." he began. "I met someone who changed everything."
His mother leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Her name..."
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
"Hermione Silvia Allen!"
The receptionist's voice rang out as soon as she spotted Hermione approaching the front desk. Hermione gave her a brief nod in response. "Mr. Emiliano mentioned you'd be here for a meeting," the receptionist inquired. Hermione responded with another nod.
"Welcome, Queen. I'll escort you to the elevators," the receptionist said with a polished smile and led both Hermione and Sam toward the elevators after passing the ID scan.
Hermione, with Sam at her side, entered the private lift, followed by the receptionist. She pressed the button for the top floor, and the elevator quietly ascended.
Upon arrival, the elevator dinged, and the receptionist directed them to the right hallway. Hermione's heels clicked against the pristine marble floor as she strode forward, Sam's heavy steps following closely behind.
At the end of the hallway, they were greeted by another woman, her expression warm yet professional. "Welcome, Queen. I'm Lia, Mr. Emiliano's secretary. It's a pleasure to meet you," Lia said politely.
"Likewise, Ms. Lia," Hermione replied in her usual cool, professional tone.
"This way, Queen," Lia gestured, leading them further down the hall to a sleek, steel-grey door. After knocking three times, a deep voice responded from inside, "Come in." Lia typed a passcode into a small panel beside the door and opened it.
Lia entered, followed closely by Sam, who was surveying the room for any potential threats. His broad figure blocked Hermione from view until she gracefully stepped from behind him and took her seat. She shot Sam a brief glare for pulling out her chair-a gesture she didn't appreciate-but, as always, Sam remained indifferent, meeting her gaze with his usual expressionless look.
Hermione removed her sunglasses and turned her piercing blue eyes toward the man behind the desk. "Rocco Ben Emiliano," she said with a smirk.
Rocco met her gaze and returned the smirk, nodding.
"No need for introductions, I assume?" Hermione said smugly, the smirk still on her rose-colored lips.
"None at all," Rocco chuckled. "After all, who wouldn't know the Queen herself?"
Sam noticed Rocco's tone held an unexpected level of respect toward Hermione, something that seemed out of character for the notorious playboy. Suspicious, Sam figured Rocco was likely putting on a show to secure the partnership.
"Let's get to business," Hermione stated, her focus sharp as ever. Rocco nodded and leaned forward slightly, clearing his throat.
"As you're aware, Emiliano Trendz seeks a partnership with Queen Residences," he began in his smooth, businesslike voice. Hermione simply inclined her chin, signaling for him to continue.
"With your hotel opening tomorrow night, it would be a strategic move to gain local exposure. I understand you don't need much help, but considering New Zealand's heavy tourism, particularly in Auckland, there's plenty of opportunity to increase visibility." Rocco stood and strolled toward the glass wall behind him.
Sam's eyes tracked his every move, now more alert.
"We're also renowned for our fashion collections, and our winter line is ready to launch. A collaboration would benefit both of us-my team and models could stay in one of your suites, creating buzz for both brands. We also have a summer show coming up in New York, so it's a win-win situation." Rocco leaned casually against the table, standing diagonally to Hermione.
Hermione leaned back in her chair, considering his words.
"Why the sudden interest in collaborating with the Allens?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Rocco, clearly anticipating the question, responded smoothly. "Expanding into New York would ease logistics for our shows," he said as he made his way back to his chair.
Just then, Lia returned with a tray carrying three cups of coffee. She placed one in front of Hermione, but Sam quickly intervened. "No coffee," he said coldly. "Bring a fresh fruit juice-anything but orange." Lia flinched slightly at his tone but continued to serve the men their coffee, offering a quiet apology to Hermione, who responded with a polite smile.
Hermione found herself impressed by Rocco's straightforward approach. The proposed partnership seemed mutually beneficial, with a timeframe of one to two years, which wouldn't pose any issues for her business.
"Well done, Ben. You managed to summarize what could've taken an hour into just twenty minutes," Hermione remarked, her tone half-impressed, half-amused.
Rocco grinned, clearly pleased, while Hermione casually sipped the juice Lia had placed before her. Sam, however, remained rigid, his sharp eyes never leaving Rocco. He didn't trust a man who seemed to take pleasure in killing.
Rocco, fully aware of Sam's suspicious gaze, remained unbothered. He knew Sam was harmless as long as Hermione, his future Donna, was not in danger.
"Alright, I agree," Hermione finally stated, causing a wide grin to spread across Rocco's face.
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