CHAPTER 42: – AND IT IS BETTER YOU DON’T –

Settled in one of the grand Stolov’s coffee shops, Fernando uncrossed his legs at the sight of Antonio, who’d opened the door for someone.

Nikolas walked in, looked around and crossed eyes with him. Fernando wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt a dull ache on his face, most especially on his nose, which had almost healed completely since he was beat up.

Till now, he still couldn’t recall who’d done that to him that night.

Nikolas’s green eyes tracked over the entire place and him before he approached him.

Fernando lifted his gaze just a little bit to meet his eyes. His lips fell into a frown. A part of him hated that the man had a few inches on him. He didn’t like the way he stared down at him with those eyes, almost as if he was imposing on him, mocking him like he was a small fly he could crush under his feet.

But that could be him overthinking. So, he tossed the feeling aside.

"What is your name again?" he asked, reaching for a polite handshake.

Nikolas lowered his gaze to his hand, then flicked his eyes back to him. The faintest curl tugged at his lips, so slightly it was barely noticeable. He accepted the handshake, saying, "Nikolas. You can call me Nikolas."

Fernando gave a dry smile. "It’s good to meet you like this, Nikolas. I’m Fernan–"

"I know who you are," Nikolas interrupted. "You’re all over the media. You’ve been quite the hot topic for a while now. Alberto Stolov, your father, no?"

Fernando chuckled. "Well, yes. I suppose there’s no need for a long introduction. Also, I hope the man I sent didn’t... make things hard for you."

"Not really."

Another short laugh. But when Fernando tried to pull his hand back, he realized that Nikolas wasn’t letting go. A frown creased his face as he tugged harder. He didn’t want to make a scene about it, but no matter how hard he struggled, Nikolas didn’t budge.

’What the!’

His grip was crushing. "You!–"

Nikolas abruptly let go of him and pocketed his hand. "I wonder why you wanted to meet me, Mr. Stolov."

Fernando’s face twitched. Still, he forced a smile because he had an objective for inviting this man here. "You can just call me Fernando. There is no need for formality."

"Right..." Nikolas’s eyes narrowed. "...Mr. Stolov."

The forced smile fell off Fernando’s face. ’What is his problem? Who knows what that woman has sputtered about me to him?’

He rubbed his hand, soothing the pain as he took a seat. He said, "I know we didn’t start off well, but we can both understand that day wasn’t so great, no? Frustration and anger were all over the place. I hope you didn’t take it to heart."

Nikolas watched him silently with a tilted head, and that made him so uncomfortable.

"Nikolas–"

"I agree with you. And you have nothing to worry about. I didn’t take it to heart."

Fernando breathed out in relief. "Well then, I’ll take that as we’re good."

"Absolutely." Nikolas crossed his legs, arms folded. "Why did you want to meet me?"

"It’s about Viviana."

He cocked a brow. "What about my wife?"

Fernando’s jaw twitched at the sound of ’wife.’ For He hated the way the man said it with some kind of pride. He was nothing more than just a poor lad she roped into her schemes. What was there to be proud of? That he married the daughter of Amadeo Di-grassi? A self-made woman?

He almost wanted to scoff.

"I’ve pleaded with her."

Nikolas frowned. "Meaning?"

"I asked her to divorce you."

Finally interest crossed his expression since he came in here. "Oh?"

"She refused." Fernando’s face turned ashen. "But you see, Nikolas, I want her back."

"Then get her back." Nikolas shrugged with a crooked smile. "Try it if you can."

"I have, but for some odd reason, she won’t lose you. I’m not sure why. I mean, while you have the looks, she’s still out of your league. You agree you two aren’t in the same class, no?"

His chuckle was low. "What’s your point?"

"I need you to divorce her."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you’re not what she wants." Fernando shook his head. "She’s just upset with me, and you’re a poor fellow she dragged into this mess."

Nikolas considered asking, "So?"

"Do you really intend to waste your life with a woman like her? I mean, isn’t it brutally clear that she’s using you?"

Nikolas scrunched his forehead as if he was shocked, and Fernando took that as a cue to sputter on, "I’m sorry that you’re being used, Nikolas. You’re a good guy, and you don’t deserve any of this. But it’s the truth, and I’m sure it must hurt to hear–"

"I don’t care," Nikolas cut off.

"Huh?"

He bit back a laugh, shoulders shaking as if the man had truly entertained him. "Does it look like I give a fuck? Are you dense?"

He laughed so hard, Fernando began shrinking in his seat. He felt clowned, his gaze growing dark. "What’s so funny?"

Nikolas uncrossed his legs and manspreaded as the amusement vanished off his face. "Viviana is completely, and I mean, absolutely mine. I don’t care that she’s using me. If anything, I am quite glad that she is. I like being useful to her. I mean... I’d really hate it if she used another man."

"And it annoys me that her name is coming out of your mouth." His eyes shone with a cold light, expression deadly blank as he said in a low, threatening tone, "Makes me want to bash your face into this table."

Fernando immediately slammed his hands down, shooting to his feet in rage. "Who do you think you’re talking to, you lowlife piece of shit?"

A slow, deliberate smirk spread across Nikolas’s face. He stood up, stepped out, and closed the distance until only inches remained between them.

Fernando’s face grew tight with anger. "What are you trying to do, huh? Intimidate me?"

"Intimidate you?" Nikolas idly drummed his fingers against his thigh. "No. You’re not worth my full attention for now. The thing is..."

"...I just don’t want to hear my wife’s name coming out of your mouth." He grinned. "It’s provoking."

"You!" Fernando’s throat throbbed as he subconsciously swallowed. "You’re threatening me?"

"If that’s what you’ll call it."

"Hey!" He glared at him. "You’re a nobody, you hear me?"

"Wrong." Nikolas dragged his tongue briefly over his teeth. "I am Viviana Di-grassi’s lawfully wedded husband. The man who will trust her and stand by her side. I am Nikolas, a man who would even kill for her."

"You’re insane!"

Fernando’s eye twitched, unbelieving of what he was hearing.

"You’re a mad man, and she doesn’t realize it yet. Psychopath!"

Nikolas grew tight with a faux seriousness. He smiled, saying, "Let’s hopefully never meet again, Fernando Stolov. And be careful. My wife’s enemies are naturally my enemies."

He left, leaving Fernando, who stood like a statue.

What the heck had just happened?

Threatening him? Just like that? ’ Does he think he will get away with this? Does he think the name Stolov means nothing?

His hands clenched and unclenched. And he suddenly picked up the ceramic cup of coffee, throwing it at the glass window.

They shattered.

Rage boiled through his body.

This was humiliation—one he couldn’t swallow.

"Antonio, I want you to–"

"Sir." Antonio quickly shook his head. "As your personal guard, I’d suggest you stay away from that man."

"What?" Fernando scowled.

"You don’t know what he is." Cold sweat decorated Antonio’s forehead. "And it’s better you don’t."