Chapter 2

"Sembri bellissima! (you look beautiful!) " My younger brother Philip exclaimed, gazing at me in awe.

"Grazie, Principino (thanks little prince)." I gushed, planting kisses on his chubby little cheeks and wondering where I'd be without this little seven year old munchkin in my life.

"He's right, Bonita. Te ves muy, muy Hermosa (You look very, very beautiful)." Lita Maria, our house maid chimed in.

After thanking Lita, I made my way back to my room and stood in front of the tall mirror of my bedroom;

As expected, the burgundy dress clung to me like an apple covered and drenched in caramel, bringing out the danger in my curves. I knew I would look apart from the crowd the moment I took it out the plastic cover and let the creamy sheets of the silk dress slip onto my shoulders. At times like these, I was always reminded of Coco Chanel's famous quote, "In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different."

I let the dark waves of my hair fall loose down my back, running my fingers through them a few times before rummaging through my jewellery box and taking out the first pair of earrings I could find.

It'll do, I shrugged, eyeing some diamond studs rimmed with rich vibrant gold. Similar to coruscating jewels, the graceful earrings clung to my ear, glistening, even in the dim light.

VRRRRRRRR. The vibration of my phone interrupted me from my thoughts. I hastily grabbed it and read the caller ID: Mama.

I accepted the call, putting it on speaker whilst searching for my Chanel clutch bag and heels

"Hola bonita, I'm waiting downstairs. Be quick." She sighed.

"Okay, I'll be out in a sec." I responded, slipping in my heels and grabbing my shawl and bag.

As soon as I entered the limousine, I made sure my dress was properly tucked in the car, avoiding to become a flag to New York's finest neighbourhood. It somehow came to me as a surprise that, when I glanced up, mamá was busy on her phone. Facebook, of course. I thought, rolling my eyes.

I shut the door as hard as I could while making sure it wouldn't break. She looked up, startled by the deafening noise just as the car began to move.

"What did I tell you about closing the door like that? Do you realise how expensive these things are?" She lectured, brows drawn together.

"I was trying to get your attention, and since when has money been a problem?" I raised a brow, concerned.

"You could've just said something like any normal person would; and money isn't a problem but we shouldn't be wasting it either." She sighed, the features of her angry expression softening.

"Fine but if you ever do have problem please don't hesitate on telling me." I pleaded.

She reached and put her hand over mine. "Ok no te preocupes (Okay don't worry)."

I was told numerous times that I had fine observation skills; maybe that's why I recognised the slightest misery in her eyes from just a glance. My plans on asking her were discarded the moment her phone ringtone went off.

"Hello Sergio. What's the problem?" She spoke sternly, looking out the window.

Sergio was not only my late father's best friend but also one of the most devoted workers of our company. Though they were very close, they'd never been a duo- but rather a trio, alongside Lawrence Harrington; the reason of our family's demise.

Lawrence, or as I once used to call him, Uncle Lorry, completely changed faces after papa's death. He'd tried everything to gain power over the establishment founded by the Grimaldi ancestors; from trying to seduce mama to even causing trouble in the company and blaming her incapable of looking after it.

When he knew she wouldn't give up my father's legacy so easily, he began claiming other smaller sectors of the Grimaldi Industries conglomerate, claiming to sue us for dumbfounded allegations. Deeming them insignificant, mama let him take them away. His companies only flourished little over three years ago, making Harrington Profits one of the leading opponents of our multi-billionaire company, Grimaldi Industries.

Rumour had it that his success mostly derived from illegal activities he took part in.

"Okay tomorrow morning at ten it is then. Make sure everything's ready for that meeting, I don't want the events of today to be repeated, understood?" She said, the last part aimed at me with a glare.

"Can't promise anything", I whisper-shouted back with a grin.

She soon ended the call, her glare still fixed at me. "Listen here young lady if-" The vehicle's sudden halt interrupted her from completing her threat.

"We're here, madam." The chauffeur said, sliding open the partition window separating the passenger seat to the driver's.

"Okay John. Next time, make sure you stop the car a little slower." She suggested, displeased.

"Yes ma'am." John nodded.

"Thanks, John" I gave him a meaningful smile.

"Uh, You're welcome." He replied with uncertainty to what i was talking about, sliding the partition closed.

Soon, a doorman opened the door and offered his hand. After stepping out and thanking him, I took in the large building in front of me.

The building looked like a cut out from the Architects Today magazine. It was beautiful; The windows were huge and seemingly inspired by something truly alien, they took up the entire walls with only polished steel beams to break them into yet more rectangles. Taller than most buildings in New York, the place seemed to be about forty floors, tall and intimidating.

"So this is it, huh?" I asked her.

She nodded, looking everywhere but me- for this was the lair of my own father's disguised enemy. I could still remember the day he'd personally approached me and invited me in its opening. Of course, I had declined the kind offer (and I may have even spat across his face).

Hijo de-

"Come on, Querida. Vamonos." Mamá said, looping her arm with mine.

We began to walk through the large crystal glass doors, shoulders back and chin raised. Soon, all eyes turned to us, assessing us- hunting for flaws. Anything worthy of being discussed.

While others gazed and gawked (of whom were mostly male), others regarded me with scowls and frowns, turning away as soon as their gaze met with mine. I had always felt a sense of amusement at all of the envy I attracted, at all of the people who gossiped behind my back- for that's where they all belonged. Behind me.

I'll be honest, I wasn't just a mere heiress of New York. People knew me; some for the best, while others for the worst. People often liked to spread rumours about me too and as you probably know, rumours aren't necessarily the truth either. Truth is, I could have everyone's attention wrapped around my finger with just a little sway of my hips- and they envied me for it.

I rolled my eyes and looked around the spacious hall as I handed my shawl to one of the serving women.

The ceiling looked to be about thirty feet high, with swirling patterns carved onto its moulding, giving the atmosphere of that of a renaissance painting. As the heavy scent of lilies engulfed me, I noticed the large golden vases filled with flowers scattered in every corner of the room, making everything look colorful against the plain glass walls. The place was just as beautiful as its outside, if not more.

We neared a group of people close to the entrance, one of which I recognised to be Lawrence himself. He hadn't changed at all, apart from his slight moustache and stress lines on his forehead, he looked like the same middle aged man who I'd once considered like a father.

As soon as his gaze fell upon us, his eyes widened and a smile curved on his lips. He excused himself from the crowd and approached us.

"Nicole. I'm so happy to see you." he said, still smiling.

"Wish I could say the same." I replied, wiping the smile right off his face.

"I'm sure you don't mean that." he said, consoling himself and attempting to smile again. Whatever makes you sleep at night. I thought, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

"I'm glad you could be here too, Isabella." He said to mamá.

"I like what you've done with the place." She commented, nonchalantly looking around.

"Thanks, I decided to renovate just last month." He remarked awkwardly.

From the corner of my eye, I caught a faint silhouette approaching us. As I continued to contemplate on who he was, he came and stood next to Lawrence.

"Ah, good. You're here. Nicole. Isabella, Meet my son and heir, Zachary Harrington." He stated, smiling smugly.

Where do I know him from? I asked myself, studying every aspect that made him so familiar.

He had sharp facial features; his defined jaw and and strong cheek bones made me wonder if I'd accidentally stumbled upon an image of him in an encyclopaedia about Greek Gods and mythology. I wouldn't blame anyone who thought the same. in fact, the more I looked at him, the more I thought of the Greek God Erebus, God of shadows and darkness- of chaos.

For I saw chaos in the deep voids of his eyes. His deep-set eyes were beautiful, almost intense or observant in a way. They were the softest brown, infused with green; like a melt of autumn tones, just like his father's but different. The same shade but peculiarly different and yet so familiar.

"Nice to meet you." He spoke, shaking Mama's hand.

"It's nice to meet you too. Last time I saw you, you were eight and you wouldn't stop pulling Nicole's pigtails and look at you now, all grown up." She told him.

My expression was one of utmost confusion, that's probably why she asked, "You don't remember?"

"No, I really don't." I replied.

"You were seven so I'm not surprised if you forgot." She told.

"You mean when we went to Washington and spent the summer there with aunt Charlotte and her son Tommy?" As soon as those words left my mouth, the mood soon turned tense and uncomfortable.

I awkwardly glanced at Mamá as Lawrence began clenching and unclenching his jaw.

"That's my middle name, Thomas." Zachary said, clearing his throat.

My eyes widened at the revelation. Come to think of it, a small silhouette of the young Tommy was still visible in him.

"Dad I came here to tell you that they're ready for you." He stated, gesturing towards the stage at the far end.

"Well, you'll have to excuse us, ladies." Lawrence said before nodding and walking off to the stage with Zachary.

As soon as they left, I turned towards mama. "What happened to aunt Charlotte?"

"Charlotte and Lawrence got divorced nine years ago. She still lives in Washington and last I heard, they've completely separated themselves from each other. That's all I heard. If your father hadn't made me swear to end all contact with her, you would've probably met Zachary ages ago."

"Why would papa tell you to end your friendship?"

"I don't even know, dear." She sighed, "You know how authoritative your father was."

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you could all take a seat, please." Lawrence demanded through the mic.