Chapter 5 - The Weight of the CrownThe transition from a cramped apartment in Astoria to the glass-walled offices of Cole & Marino Events on Madison Avenue happened with the terrifying speed of a high-speed train.
Within three weeks, Avery’s life had been completely upended. Her mother’s medical debt was cleared—not through charity, but through an advance on the corporate contract that allowed her mother to receive top-tier physical therapy at a private rehabilitation center in Westchester. Her old apron at Hawthorne House was hanging in a plastic dry-cleaning bag in her closet, replaced by tailored silk blazers and custom-tailored trousers.
Yet, sitting in her new corner office on the fortieth floor, Avery felt a peculiar sense of vertigo.
“You’re doing it again,” a deep, smooth voice drawled from the doorway.
Avery looked up from her dual-monitor workstation. Nicholas leaned against the doorframe, holding two paper cups of terrible black coffee from the lobby kiosk—a deliberate contrast to the high-end espresso machine sitting on her credenza.
“Doing what?” Avery asked, resting her elbows on the mahogany desk.
“Examining every detail of the room like you’re trying to find a hidden bomb,” Nicholas smiled, walking into the office and setting one of the coffees down beside her keyboard. He took a seat in the guest chair, stretching his long legs out. “Relax, Avery. The Q4 gala for the Italian-American Chamber of Commerce is fully staffed, the security protocols are ironclad, and my medical bracelet hasn’t buzzed once today.”
Avery couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. “Habit dies hard. When you spend four years working in fine dining, you learn that disaster is always twelve seconds away.”
“Well, you’re not a waitress anymore,” Nicholas reminded her gently. “You’re running the most exclusive corporate events firm in New York. And you’re doing it brilliantly.”
He wasn't wrong. In less than a month, Cole & Marino Events had secured contracts not just with Marino Atlantic, but with three major Wall Street investment firms and two international tech conglomerates. Avery’s sharp eye for logistics and human behavior had transformed corporate event planning from a stressful chore into an art form.
And yet, the most complicated part of her new life wasn't the business.
It was the man sitting across from her.
What had started as a professional obligation born of a medical emergency had slowly, imperceptibly shifted over the past month. Late-night conference calls about catering menus had morphed into shared takeout sushi over blueprints at midnight. Strategic debriefs had turned into long, winding conversations about their pasts, their families, and the heavy, isolating burden of ambition.
Nicholas reached across the desk, his fingers brushing lightly against the back of her hand as he pointed to a detail on the seating chart on her monitor.
The casual touch sent an electric shiver straight up Avery’s arm. She didn't pull away. Neither did he.
“You know,” Nicholas murmured, his voice dropping into that low, resonant register that always made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, “Grant asked me yesterday if you and I were attending the charity auction at the Plaza this Friday together as business partners or... something else.”
Avery’s breath hitched slightly. She looked up, her dark eyes locking onto his amber gaze. “And what did you tell him?”
“I told him that Grant Keller asks too many damn questions,” Nicholas replied smoothly, though a slow, wicked smile touched the corner of his lips. He turned her hand over, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin of her inner wrist—right over her pulse point. “I told him that you and I are rewriting the contract, Avery. And the terms are entirely up to you.”
Avery’s heart hammered against her ribs—not with the terrifying, erratic panic of an Addisonian crisis, but with the steady, exhilarating rush of a woman who had looked into the abyss, taken control of the room, and won the entire board.
She smiled, sliding her fingers forward to interlock her hand securely with his.
May you like
“Then I suppose,” Avery whispered, “we should schedule a meeting to discuss the fine print.”
Nicholas’s dark eyes flashed with triumph, and for the first time in his life, the billionaire titan of New York didn't care about managing the future. He just wanted to see what happened next.
