Page 12 of The Shadow King's Brother

“For you being you,” I reply, and I mean it. Every word. My cold, dark heart means every damn bit of it.

The parking garage’s automatic doors slide open, revealing a lobby of polished granite and glass. We step into the brightly lit space, the floor a sleek pattern of black and gold. The lobby is quiet, almost serene.

I nod at the receptionist, a young woman with perfectly styled red hair and a calm, unreadable expression. She nods back. “Mr. De Luca, Miss Galli. Driver.”

Marcus scoffs, heading toward the coffee stand. “Name’s Marcus,” he mutters, pouring himself a cup. “You need anything else, Mr. De Luca?”

“No, you can head home. I’ll drive us back to the mansion later,” I reply, nodding my thanks. Marcus gives a small shrug, sipping his coffee, then makes his way out.

We walk to the elevators, the chrome doors shining under the lights. With a soft chime, the elevator arrives. Inside, the walls are dark wood, and the floor is covered in soft carpet. We step in, and the doors close. The elevator moves up smoothly, and the doors slide open onto our floor.

We walk down the quiet hallway, the sound of computers growing louder as we near the offices. I glance at Nica, her steps are steady. I wonder what’s going on in that beautiful mind?

“Your office?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“Figured you’d want the better view,” she says.

“Always,” I reply with a small grin. At least she’s not mad.

We enter her office, the space bathed in a soft glow from the city lights outside. She moves to her desk, fingers already flying over the keyboard. I drop into the chair opposite, the feeling of being watched still lingering.

A soft rumble breaks the quiet. Nica’s stomach? She shoots me a quick, embarrassed glance before focusing back on the screen.

“Hungry?” I chuckle.

She shrugs. “Maybe a little.”

I lean back, watching her for a moment. “Let’s order something disgustingly greasy,” I say.

Her lips twitch into a smile, the corners of her mouth curving upward.

“Alright. But you’re picking the artery clogger. I’m too tired to think.”

“Deal,” I say, my smirk widening. “You deserve the best in culinary regret.”

“You know how to spoil a girl.”

“Only the best for you,” My smirk grows into a full-fledged grin, my eyes locking onto hers.

Fuck, she’s fantastic.

Pulling out my phone to order, I steal another glance at her. Nica, my storm wrapped in silk, and I can’t help but feel a sense of pride that she’s chosen me.

Before I can even settle in and order, the door opens, and Fiona walks in, carrying a tray piled high with takeout containers.

“Dinner is served, Miss Galli, Mr. De Luca,” Fiona announces, setting the tray down on the coffee table with a flourish. The smell of garlic and spices fills the room.

“You’re here late, Fiona,” Nica says, pushing her chair back and getting up from her desk. She walks over to the coffee table and begins unpacking the containers. “Did you hear our stomachs growling from down the hall?”

Fiona’s eyes dart to the clock, then back to Nica with that calm, robotic demeanor of hers.

“It’s 8:17 PM. Statistically, most individuals experience hunger around this time if their last meal was six to seven hours prior. Given Miss Galli’s departure from the office at 1:03 PM without lunch and the lack of any further food deliveries, it was a logical assumption.”

I raise an eyebrow, fighting a grin. “You deduced our hunger based on statistics?”

She nods and pats down her blonde strands. “Correct.”

Nica tries to hold back a smile but fails miserably. “Well, we appreciate your... precision, Fiona.”

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