He's Just A Mere Puppet

Morana's Point of View

My grandfather's amused smile lingered as he glanced between Nikolai and me. The weight of his gaze made my skin prickle with unease, though I masked it with an air of nonchalance.

"Well, I'll leave you two to get to know each other," he said, his voice tinged with a sly undertone that made my stomach twist.

I shot him a look, one that I hoped conveyed my silent plea not to abandon me in this increasingly awkward situation. But, of course, he just smiled wider, clearly enjoying himself.

"Grandfather..... " I started, but he cut me off with a light chuckle.

"Now, now, Morana. Don't give me that look. You're capable of handling this," he said, patting my shoulder before turning to Nikolai. "She can be a handful sometimes, but I'm sure you'll manage."

I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could, Nikolai's lips curved into a faint smirk. "I think I'll survive."

Oh, great. He's amused too. Perfect.

My grandfather tipped his hat to Nikolai, nodded at me one last time, and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with him.

As the door clicked shut, the silence in the room seemed to amplify, stretching out in a way that made the space feel much smaller than it actually was.

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself. It's just a conversation, Morana. You've handled worse.

When I glanced at Nikolai, I found him watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read—calm, composed, but with an intensity in his eyes that made my pulse race.

"Well," I started, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "I don't think there's much to get to know. You already know my name, and I know yours. You know who I am, and I know who you are. I mean, who wouldn't?"

The words tumbled out in a rush, and I winced internally. I was rambling, and I hated how obvious it was. I cleared my throat, trying to rein myself in.

"Sorry," I said quickly. "I'm talking too much. I do that sometimes. Oh boy..." I trailed off, feeling heat creep up my neck.

Nikolai's response was as unexpected as it was disarming. He cocked an eyebrow at me, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I'm not complaining."

I blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. His tone was smooth, casual, but there was a teasing edge to it that made my cheeks warm.

"Well, good," I said finally, straightening my posture. "Because, uh, that's just how I am sometimes. Anyway."

He chuckled softly—a low, rich sound that made the air in the room feel heavier. "You're... interesting, Morana Sinclair."

The way he said my name sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a subtle jab, but either way, it left me feeling off-balance.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a sleek business card. With deliberate precision, he extended it toward me.

"Here's my private number," he said, his voice steady. "I'll be teaching you everything you need to know. Call me whenever you need guidance—or anything else, for that matter."

I took the card hesitantly, my fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment. The contact was fleeting, but it left a strange warmth lingering on my skin.

"Thank you," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

Nikolai nodded, his gaze holding mine for a beat longer than necessary before he stepped back. "I'll be seeing you soon, Morana."

He turned and walked toward the door, his movements fluid and confident. I couldn't help but notice the way he carried himself, like he owned every room he entered, like the world itself was his stage.

When the door closed behind him, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. My eyes dropped to the card in my hand, the embossed letters glinting under the soft light. Nikolai D'Angelo. Even his name seemed to carry weight.

I couldn't help but smile to myself. My grandfather's timing was no coincidence. He'd clearly orchestrated this whole thing, knowing full well that Nikolai's power and influence would be invaluable to me in the future.

"Sly old man," I muttered, chuckling softly as I shook my head.

I tucked the card into my bag, grabbed my sunglasses, and slung my purse over my shoulder. With a final glance around the now-empty boardroom, I straightened my posture, letting my usual confidence return.

As I walked out of the room, I couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and unease about what lay ahead. Whatever my grandfather had planned, one thing was certain: working with Nikolai D'Angelo was going to be anything but boring.

**********

The thought of Nancy's bruises haunted me all night. Even as I sat in my room the following morning, staring out at the sunlit gardens of my grandfather's villa, my mind refused to let it go.

Something about the way she had looked, the fear in her eyes, the tension in her posture itched at me like an unresolved mystery.

It was the weekend, which meant I had time to deal with it before officially starting at Starlight Studios on Monday. I decided it was best to talk to Nancy face-to-face. If I brought it up over the phone, there was a chance she'd back out or avoid me altogether, and that wasn't an option.

I called her number.

The line rang twice before she picked up. "Hello?" Nancy's voice sounded hesitant, wary even.

"Nancy, it's me, Morana," I said warmly, keeping my tone light so she wouldn't suspect I had an ulterior motive.

"Oh, hi," she said, her voice soft but uneasy.

"I was thinking we could meet up today," I said. "It's the weekend, and I'd like to catch up before you get swamped with work."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Um... I don't know, Morana. I'm a bit busy today..."

"Nancy," I interrupted gently, "it won't take long. Just an hour, tops. Come to my grandfather's villa. I'll text you the address."

She hesitated again. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude..."

"You're not intruding," I assured her quickly. "Please. It'll be good to see you."

Finally, she relented. "Okay. I'll be there."

"Great," I said, relieved. "I'll be waiting."

I hung up and texted her the address. I didn't mention the bruises; I didn't want to give her a chance to change her mind. Whatever was going on, it needed to be sorted out in person.

**********

About thirty minutes later, Maria, the housekeeper, came into the living room where I was waiting. "Miss Sinclair, your guest is here," she announced.

"Thank you, Maria," I said, standing up.

Nancy stepped into the room, looking as uneasy as she had sounded on the phone. Her movements were hesitant, and her gaze flickered around the lavish space as though she were afraid to touch anything.

"Hey, Nancy," I said warmly, motioning for her to sit on the plush couch across from me. "Thanks for coming."

"Hi," she said quietly, lowering herself onto the edge of the couch.

It didn't take long for me to notice that the bruises on her face had worsened. My chest tightened, and I frowned before I could stop myself.

The sight of her swollen cheek and the faint discoloration around her eye made my blood simmer with anger.

Nancy must have caught the intensity in my gaze because she flinched slightly and looked down at her hands.

I decided not to waste time. "What happened to your face?" I asked, my tone sharp but laced with concern.

Nancy froze, her eyes widening slightly. She didn't respond, just stared at her hands as though they held the answers.

"Nancy," I said, softening my voice. I leaned forward and reached out, gently placing my hand over hers. "Who did this to you?"

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she still didn't say a word. The sight of her holding back her pain made my heart ache.

I sighed, sitting back but keeping my voice calm. "Sophia did this to you, didn't she?"

Her head snapped up, and she looked at me in surprise. After a moment, she nodded, her chin trembling as the tears finally spilled over.

Her confirmation made my anger flare like a lit match. I clenched the glass in my hand tighter, my knuckles whitening. "And Sebastian?" I pressed. "Does he know about this?"

Nancy hesitated before nodding again. "Yes," she said quietly. "Everyone in the company knows."

The glass in my hand shattered against the floor before I could stop myself. "Bullshit!" I shouted, standing abruptly.

Nancy jumped at my sudden outburst, her eyes wide with alarm.

"How dare they treat you like this? Like trash?" I growled, pacing the room.

Nancy quickly stood and reached for my arm. "Morana, please. Don't get involved," she pleaded. "Sophia is dangerous, and she has Sebastian backing her."

I stopped pacing and turned to face her. A cold, humorless smile spread across my lips. "Sebastian is nothing," I said, my voice low and venomous.

"Morana," she said, shaking her head. "Please. You don't understand...."

I cut her off. "No, you don't understand. You are not trash, Nancy. You don't deserve this, and I won't stand by and watch it happen."

She opened her mouth to argue, but I held up a hand to silence her. "Listen to me," I said firmly. "I'll be coming back to the entertainment industry. Starting Monday"

Nancy blinked, stunned. "What?"

I smiled, my tone softening. "You heard me. The deal has been signed and sealed. And guess what?"

She tilted her head, her confusion evident. "What?"

"You'll be my manager, you'll resume working with me" I said, grinning.

Her mouth fell open, and she gasped. "Really?"

"Really," I confirmed.

Her expression shifted to one of concern. "And Sebastian agreed to this? To you coming back and to me being your manager?"

I laughed, the sound sharp and unapologetic. "Of course. Why wouldn't he? Sebastian is nothing but a mere puppet, Nancy. And this time, he'll be playing to my tune."

A mix of excitement and disbelief crossed her face as she threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly. "Thank you, Morana," she whispered.

I hugged her back, but even as I did, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was still bothering her. Whatever it was, I decided to let it lie for now. When the time came, I'd handle it.