Page 42
Story: Influence
They exchanged a nervous glance, not that it was obvious they had annoyed me. They were rather stupid, but they were smart enough to understand I would strike at any moment now.
“I will answer my own question.” I gave them my coldest glare. “He would be completely ashamed of both of you, embarrassed by your childish outbursts. Now, regarding my marriage, our father always valued the Vitalis name. Should I remind you of the numerous photos in our home featuring him with Juno Vitalis? Isn’t that evidence of his respect for the Vitalises and the legacy they represent?”
“The Vitalises are snakes!” Stefano exclaimed, his face a play of fury. “And if you’re not careful, Niko, you’ll share the same fate as our beloved father!”
“What, do you mean death? We’re all on that path, each in our own way,” I replied, leaning forward with a dismissive gesture.
“If you don’t cut ties with that filthy family, Niko, your fate will catch up with you sooner than you think.”
I raised an eyebrow at Stefano’s thinly veiled threat, allowing the tension to linger heavily in the room.
“Don’t make an enemy of me, Stefano,” I warned. “Trust me, you’ll regret it.”
“We’re only trying to tell you the truth, Niko,” Markos insisted.
“It all sounds a lot like a threat to me.” I slowly stood up, looming over them with a predatory glare. “Don’t even think about messing with me or my family. And let me make it clear that this includes the Vitalis family. If either of you slimy little shits dares to touch them, I promise the revenge will be excruciatingly painful, bloody, and well beyond your wildest nightmares.”
Their faces fell as they grasped that they’d crossed a line from which they couldn’t return. They’d pushed me too far.
They understood that playing with fire involved the risk of being consumed by the flames and reduced to dust.
Their silence conveyed everything.
With one final, measured step, I exited the restaurant, the weight of my anger palpable in the air. I left them to stew in their well-deserved mix of shame and fear.
Ten
LAYANA
“Are you serious?” Cali exclaimed, furrowing my brow. I placed my hands on my hips and struck a pose that felt almost comically theatrical. “Can’t you choose someone else? Is this some punishment for making you buy that expensive dress? It’s not like we couldn’t afford it.”
I smirked as I meticulously wrote Cali’s name in elegant script on the soles of my shiny stilettos, justifying my decision with a firm nod.
“No one makes me do anything. I chose this dress because it was ideal and spared me from more hours searching for the right one,” I told her, trying to sound resolute.
“Then why are you being so cruel?”
“How’s this cruel? You’re being overly dramatic. Since relocating to the estate, I hadn't had the chance to interact with any other women,” I clarified, feeling the pressure in my chest ease slightly. “That means you’re my sole option. Avra is already married and off-limits.”
“It’s a ridiculous tradition anyway,” she grumbled, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as I noticed her frustration.
Avra, lounging comfortably on my bed, laughed at our exchange. It was a light, musical sound that resonated throughout the room.
“I seem to recall you weren’t complaining when I wrote Laya’s name on the bottom of my shoes,” she teased, glancing at Cali.
“That’s because it was Laya’s name and not mine,” Cali replied, feigning indignation as she rolled her eyes. “I'll say it again, this is dumb.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I conceded, placing my pen on the polished vanity. “But I’m not about to break tradition. It’s bad luck.”
“This isn’t a real marriage!” Cali protested, cocking a hand on her hip, her challenge clear in her stance.
“Cali! Please don’t say that!” I exclaimed, feeling a pang in my heart at her words. “While my marriage to Niko may have been arranged, it is truly real. Could you please humor me for just one day?”
The tradition of writing single girlfriends’ names on the bottom of the bride’s shoe might seem outdated, but I was determined to uphold it, whether Cali liked it or not.
“The name that gets scraped off by the end of the night is the one who will wed next. I’m the only one on that list. Why are you sentencing me to marriage next?” I arched an eyebrow at her, as if the reason were as clear as day.
Cali crossed her arms, her lips pursed in stubborn resolve. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I will answer my own question.” I gave them my coldest glare. “He would be completely ashamed of both of you, embarrassed by your childish outbursts. Now, regarding my marriage, our father always valued the Vitalis name. Should I remind you of the numerous photos in our home featuring him with Juno Vitalis? Isn’t that evidence of his respect for the Vitalises and the legacy they represent?”
“The Vitalises are snakes!” Stefano exclaimed, his face a play of fury. “And if you’re not careful, Niko, you’ll share the same fate as our beloved father!”
“What, do you mean death? We’re all on that path, each in our own way,” I replied, leaning forward with a dismissive gesture.
“If you don’t cut ties with that filthy family, Niko, your fate will catch up with you sooner than you think.”
I raised an eyebrow at Stefano’s thinly veiled threat, allowing the tension to linger heavily in the room.
“Don’t make an enemy of me, Stefano,” I warned. “Trust me, you’ll regret it.”
“We’re only trying to tell you the truth, Niko,” Markos insisted.
“It all sounds a lot like a threat to me.” I slowly stood up, looming over them with a predatory glare. “Don’t even think about messing with me or my family. And let me make it clear that this includes the Vitalis family. If either of you slimy little shits dares to touch them, I promise the revenge will be excruciatingly painful, bloody, and well beyond your wildest nightmares.”
Their faces fell as they grasped that they’d crossed a line from which they couldn’t return. They’d pushed me too far.
They understood that playing with fire involved the risk of being consumed by the flames and reduced to dust.
Their silence conveyed everything.
With one final, measured step, I exited the restaurant, the weight of my anger palpable in the air. I left them to stew in their well-deserved mix of shame and fear.
Ten
LAYANA
“Are you serious?” Cali exclaimed, furrowing my brow. I placed my hands on my hips and struck a pose that felt almost comically theatrical. “Can’t you choose someone else? Is this some punishment for making you buy that expensive dress? It’s not like we couldn’t afford it.”
I smirked as I meticulously wrote Cali’s name in elegant script on the soles of my shiny stilettos, justifying my decision with a firm nod.
“No one makes me do anything. I chose this dress because it was ideal and spared me from more hours searching for the right one,” I told her, trying to sound resolute.
“Then why are you being so cruel?”
“How’s this cruel? You’re being overly dramatic. Since relocating to the estate, I hadn't had the chance to interact with any other women,” I clarified, feeling the pressure in my chest ease slightly. “That means you’re my sole option. Avra is already married and off-limits.”
“It’s a ridiculous tradition anyway,” she grumbled, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as I noticed her frustration.
Avra, lounging comfortably on my bed, laughed at our exchange. It was a light, musical sound that resonated throughout the room.
“I seem to recall you weren’t complaining when I wrote Laya’s name on the bottom of my shoes,” she teased, glancing at Cali.
“That’s because it was Laya’s name and not mine,” Cali replied, feigning indignation as she rolled her eyes. “I'll say it again, this is dumb.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I conceded, placing my pen on the polished vanity. “But I’m not about to break tradition. It’s bad luck.”
“This isn’t a real marriage!” Cali protested, cocking a hand on her hip, her challenge clear in her stance.
“Cali! Please don’t say that!” I exclaimed, feeling a pang in my heart at her words. “While my marriage to Niko may have been arranged, it is truly real. Could you please humor me for just one day?”
The tradition of writing single girlfriends’ names on the bottom of the bride’s shoe might seem outdated, but I was determined to uphold it, whether Cali liked it or not.
“The name that gets scraped off by the end of the night is the one who will wed next. I’m the only one on that list. Why are you sentencing me to marriage next?” I arched an eyebrow at her, as if the reason were as clear as day.
Cali crossed her arms, her lips pursed in stubborn resolve. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
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