CHAPTER 35: – CARLOS ACETO –

Nikolas settled into his office chair, one knee thrown over the other.

He watched with a tranquil expression as the door opened, York stepping aside to let two men in. Elio and another whose brown hair was streaked with touches of gray.

"In here," Elio said.

York closed the door.

The man glanced at Elio, questioning, "What is this, Mr. Bastiani?"

"Have a seat." Elio gestured, pulling out a chair at the table to settle down. Now they were seated opposite Nikolas.

Nikolas peered at them interestingly before fixing his full attention on the other man. "Carlos Aceto, hm..." he said.

The man, Mr. Carlos Aceto, furrowed his brows. "Who are you?"

Elio smiled at him. "Aceto, this is my boss."

Aceto’s brows zipped in confusion. "Your... boss? I’m a bit lost here. Wait, why are you being called Elio?"

Wasn’t he Nikolas Bastiani?

Elio cleared his throat. "You see–"

"Leave us, Elio," Nikolas interrupted.

Elio glanced at him, a bit stunned. But he obeyed, getting up and exiting the office. Now it was just these two men. And Nikolas steepled his fingers with a cold smile.

"You’re confused."

"I am." Aceto’s lips parted, but it took a moment of thought before he spoke again. "I was told I was here to meet Nikolas Bastiani, and the man I know as Nikolas Bastiani somehow answers Elio? Who are you?"

Nikolas chuckled. "I am Nikolas Bastiani."

Aceto stared at him, waiting for a laugh or even the hint of a joke, but Nikolas’s dead stare only worsened his bemused state.

"You’re not joking?"

Nikolas tilted his head. "Does it look like I am?"

"How can you be Nikolas Bastiani?!" Aceto grew annoyed, slamming his hands on the table. "Are you toying with me? I am Carlos Aceto, and I don’t—wait a minute! I know who you are." He fished out his phone. "Aren’t you the man Amadeo Di-grassi’s daughter walked into her wedding with?"

"Yes, I am." Nikolas nodded, business-like, and leaned back against his chair. "Does that change the fact that I am Nikolas Bastiani?"

"It’s impossible!"

Aceto shook his head.

"If you were the multi-billionaire Nikolas Bastiani, Amadeo Di-grassi would have known that!"

"But he doesn’t." Nikolas let out a breath. "You see, Aceto, I’m a man who prefers being anonymous for personal reasons. Elio... hm, he’s someone you can call a proxy. And he answers to me."

"A... proxy?" Aceto’s eyes narrowed.

Nikolas nodded. "Yes. I am Nikolas Bastiani, and Elio Romano is my proxy."

Aceto gave a slow shake of his head. "I don’t believe that."

"Then walk out."

"What?"

Nikolas shrugged. "You said you don’t believe me, and I’m asking you to leave."

Aceto’s hands balled by his sides, his expression growing complicated. If this young man truly was Nikolas Bastiani, then he would be shooting himself in the foot the minute he steps out of this office.

Even Amadeo Di-grassi hadn’t succeeded in achieving an audience with this man. He, on the other hand, was invited. Why?

"Okay. Let’s say I believe you, why are you telling me this secret? Why send me an invite?" he asked. "You’ve kept yourself anonymous for over ten years now. I want to understand what your motive here is."

"Oh, it’s quite simple, Aceto."

Nikolas’s hand fluttered as he settled his feet on the desk, crossing his ankle.

"I want to make a deal with you that requires a lot of trust. I’m a fair man after all."

Aceto folded his arms. "What are you getting at? And what deal are you referring to?"

A grin pulled at Nikolas’s lips. "I heard Fernando Stolov is on the final stage of a million-dollar deal with you for his family’s modeling company."

"That’s true." Aceto nodded. "I believe it’s all over the news."

"Oh, I couldn’t care for such insignificant news."

Aceto narrowed his eyes at the comment.

"I want you to reject and cancel that contract," Nikolas demanded.

Aceto choked out, "What?!"

"You heard me. Cancel everything."

"You arrogant fellow!" Aceto pointed, flying into rage. "Do you have any damn idea what it means for a contract to be on the final stage? How can you ask me to do such a thing? Who do you think you are?!"

"I am Nikolas Bastiani. And you will calm down and take your seat." Nikolas’s eyes did something strange. They darkened even further, which instantly put Aceto on edge.

Aceto gulped. Dangerous. This fellow was dangerous, and he could smell it.

He sat down. "I can’t do that."

Nikolas rolled his eyes. "Don’t be so quick. We haven’t gotten to the juicy part."

"Which is?"

"You’d get to seal a direct partnership with me. Think about it. Between Stolov’s A-list modeling company and my S-list modeling company, which of course sponsors S-list models, which would you rather pick?"

Aceto’s chest was pounding. This was more than just a sweet deal. But he was hesitating.

"I’m sure you’d like your brand to go beyond what it already is, and my modeling company can offer you that. Bravata aside, of course. Don’t even dream about it."

Normally, Aceto would never dare entertain the idea of partnering with Nikolas Bastiani. It was simply impossible. The man was far too untouchable, a man who could back up his arrogance. Yet, here he was, seated across from him, offering him an opportunity of a lifetime. And there was no doubt, securing a partnership with him would send his brand soaring.

That was the kind of influence this man carried in their continent of Valestra.

Still... "It’s a sweet deal, Mr. Bastiani, but how do I know I’m not being deceived?"

"Deceived?"

The expression on Nikolas’s face fell, and his gaze grew icy.

"Don’t get the wrong idea, Aceto. You’re not that important to warrant me wasting my time on you. There is only one reason you’re seated within this office in my presence, and it’s simply my wife. Don’t flatter yourself."

The change of demeanor, the chills—it’d made the entire office cold enough, Aceto felt the hairs on his arms stand at attention.

He gulped. "I understand. But the contract is already in the final stage, Mr. Bastiani. I can’t just withdraw."

"Okay."

He blinked. "Just... okay?"

Nikolas folded his hands on the table, placing his full attention on him. "It seems you’re not interested. I’ll think about passing the opportunity to another."

"And don’t you ask me for time to think about it," he cut off before Aceto could even get a word in. "You either agree right here and now, or see yourself out."