other side of the night (Nico)

The hot water cascaded down my back, washing away the night's adrenaline, but not the memory of those eyes. I leaned my forehead against the marble shower wall, letting steam fill my private bathroom as my mind wandered back to the race. To him.

He'd looked at me with such defiance when we collided, not an ounce of intimidation despite our height difference. That delicate face with its sharp edges, the dragon tattoo curling around his toned arm, the way his white tank top had revealed just enough skin to make my imagination work overtime...

"Get it together, King," I muttered to myself, shutting off the water with perhaps more force than necessary. The bathroom mirror had fogged up, obscuring my reflection, but I could still make out the dark lines of the sigil tattoo on my chest – which showed my teenage rebellion phase towards my late father.

Sleep proved elusive that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him watching me from the crowd, saw the way his lips had parted slightly in surprise when I'd overtaken his brother at the finish line. I hadn't meant to race tonight, hadn't meant to draw attention to myself in Rome's underground scene, but something about that arrogant stance of his brother's Aston Martin had called to the competitor in me.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom, I could see my mother's garden bathed in moonlight. The roses she'd planted years ago still climbed the ancient stone walls, their shadows dancing in the gentle breeze. This estate, far from the city's prying eyes, had been her sanctuary first, before becoming mine. The sound of the central fountain – her favorite feature – drifted up, a constant, soothing presence in the night.

Morning came too soon, sunlight streaming through the windows. I pushed myself out of bed at exactly 5:30 AM – old habits die hard. The private gym I'd built in the east wing had become my sanctuary over the years, and today was no different. Each rep, each mile on the treadmill helped clear my head, helped me focus on what really mattered.

By seven, I was halfway through my morning routine. The hot towel treatment, the precise trimming of my stubble, the careful attention to each detail that being Nicholas King, CEO of King Industries Europe, demanded. My hair, still damp from the post-workout shower, was slicked back with practiced precision. The navy blue suit fitted perfectly. it should, considering my personal tailor had spent hours getting every measurement exactly right.

Before leaving, I took a moment in the indoor garden room where my mother's prized orchids still bloomed under careful climate control. She'd always said these delicate flowers taught the best lessons about patience and attention to detail. "Just like business, tesoro," she would say, adjusting the humidity levels with practiced care. "The most beautiful results require the most careful cultivation."

The Range Rover purred to life as I made my way down the curved driveway, cypress trees standing sentinel on either side. Most days, I preferred to drive myself rather than use a chauffeur. The control, the solitude – it centered me before facing the corporate wolves.

"Good morning, Mr. King," my assistant, Sarah, greeted as I strode into the office. "Your schedule's been updated. The board meeting has been moved to 10 AM, and the Arc Duke of Italy has confirmed dinner after your afternoon meeting."

I paused at that last bit. "Fredrick Lombardo?"

"Yes, sir. He specifically requested the dinner addition to your meeting. Something about catching up properly."

My father's voice echoed in my memory: "Fredrick Lombardo is one of the good ones, son. Remember that." They'd been close once, my father and the Arc Duke, back when the world seemed simpler. Before the accident that took my father's life and thrust me into this position far too young.

The day passed in a blur of meetings, conference calls, and strategy sessions. I maintained my reputation for being coldly efficient, ruthlessly precise in every business dealing. It was easier that way let them think I was made of ice. Let them never see the part of me that raced through Rome's streets at night, seeking something I couldn't quite name.

At precisely 3 PM, Fredrick Lombardo walked into my office. He hadn't changed much since I last saw him at my father's funeral – still carried himself with that mixture of regal bearing and genuine warmth that made him unique among nobility.

"Nicholas," he smiled, embracing me like a long-lost nephew. "You look more like Xavier every time I see you."

"Your Grace," I returned the embrace, allowing myself a moment of genuine emotion. "It's been too long."

"Please, it's Fredrick when we're not in official meetings. Your father would roll his eyes at such formality between us." He settled into one of the leather chairs across from my desk. "Though I must say, you've done him proud. King Industries' expansion into the European market has been remarkable."

The meeting was surprisingly personal for a business discussion. We talked about potential collaborations between our enterprises, yes, but there was an undercurrent of something more paternal in his questions about my life, my happiness.

"You know," Fredrick said as we were wrapping up, "Xavier always hoped our families would be closer. He had such plans..."

There was something in his tone that made me look up sharply, but his expression gave nothing away. Before I could probe further, he was standing, checking his watch.

"Shall we move this to dinner? I know a place that makes pasta that would make the gods weep."

Dinner with Fredrick was a revelation. Away from the office, he transformed from the powerful Arc Duke into something closer to the man my father must have known in college. He told stories of their adventures, of pranks pulled and rules bent, of the woman who would become his wife and how Xavier had helped him win her heart.

"She was so far out of my league," he laughed, swirling his wine. "But Xavier, he convinced me to serenade her at this horrible little café. Made a complete fool of myself, but she said it was the bravest thing she'd ever seen. Been head over heels for each other ever since."

"Father never told me these stories," I said softly.

"No, he wouldn't have. Xavier was always looking forward, never back. But he loved you fiercely, Nicholas. Everything he did was for your future."

Something in his words felt weighted, significant, but before I could ask, my phone buzzed. Jonathan's name flashed on the screen.

"Go on," Fredrick smiled, seeing my hesitation. "You're young – you should be out enjoying yourself, not listening to an old man's stories all night."

After saying our goodbyes, with promises to not let so much time pass before our next meeting, I found myself pulling up to Essence, Rome's most exclusive nightclub. Jonathan and Daniel were waiting outside, my cousin's arm draped possessively around his boyfriend's waist.

"Finally!" Jonathan called out. "We thought you'd stood us up for some boring business dinner."

"The dinner wasn't boring," I defended, following them inside. The bass immediately thrummed through my chest, the exclusive VIP section already prepared for our arrival.

"Right," Daniel smirked, signaling for drinks. "Because dinners with nobility are always thrilling."

If they only knew who I'd been racing against last night... but that was my secret to keep. The mysterious beauty with the dragon tattoo and his siblings could remain my private obsession for now.

The nightclub scene played out as these nights usually did. Beautiful people gravitated toward our table, drawn by the obvious wealth, power, and Jonathan's natural charisma. A particularly bold woman in a red dress tried to slide into my lap, but Daniel's sharp glare and sharper tongue sent her scurrying.

"Honestly," Daniel muttered, taking another sip of his cocktail. "Do they think we're running a charity for gold diggers?"

"Be nice," Jonathan laughed, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's temple. "We can't all find true love in a board meeting."

"That was one time," Daniel protested, but he was smiling. Their love story was legendary in our circle – the fierce corporate lawyer who'd fallen for my cousin during a particularly heated negotiation.

Around midnight, as the club reached its peak, I found my mind wandering back to the race. To those eyes that had watched me with such intensity. There was something about him, something that called to the part of me I kept carefully hidden behind designer suits and corporate masks.

"Earth to Nicholas," Jonathan waved his hand in front of my face. "You're thinking too hard for a club night."

"Just business," I lied smoothly, standing. "And speaking of which, some of us have early meetings tomorrow."

"Boring!" Daniel called after me, but his smile was understanding. He knew better than most the weight of responsibilities I carried.

The drive home took me away from Rome's ancient streets, out to where the city lights faded and the stars became visible again. The tall iron gates opened silently at my approach, and I felt something in my chest loosen as I drove up the familiar cypress-lined drive. No matter what mask I wore in the world, this place knew who I really was.

I parked the Range Rover and stood for a moment in the garden, letting the familiar scents calm my racing mind. The fountain at the center provided its gentle soundtrack to the night. My mother had always said that water brought life to a garden, made it more than just a collection of beautiful things.

Inside, the house was quiet save for the subtle hum of the climate control system keeping her precious orchids at their preferred temperature. My footsteps echoed on the marble floors as I made my way to my wing of the house. It was too big for one person, I knew that, but every room held memories I couldn't bear to change.

As I loosened my tie, my mind wandered back to those defiant eyes, that dragon tattoo, the grace in every movement. Here, in my mother's garden, it felt almost like a sign – she'd always told me I'd find something worth breaking my rules for. "Life isn't all business plans and profit margins, tesoro," she'd say, tending to her roses. "Sometimes the most beautiful things grow in unexpected places."

Tomorrow, I would be Nicholas King again, the ice king of European business, the man who never lost control. But tonight, as I drifted off to sleep, I allowed myself to remember the fire in those eyes, the grace in that defiant stance, the art in every movement. And for the first time in years, I wondered if maybe there was something more to life than the careful balance I'd maintained since losing my parents.

The last thing I saw before sleep claimed me was his face, proud and beautiful in the street lights, watching me win a race that suddenly felt like the beginning of something much bigger than either of us could imagine. In the distance, the fountain's gentle splash provided a rhythm to my thoughts, as if my mother's garden itself was telling me to pay attention to this feeling, this moment, this crack in the careful walls I'd built around myself.

To be continued..

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