Nicholas

The gentle hum of my alarm pierced through the morning silence at precisely 5:30 AM. I didn't need it anymore – my body had long since adapted to this schedule – but old habits die hard. Sunlight hadn't yet broken through the grand windows of my bedroom, leaving the sprawling estate still shrouded in pre-dawn darkness.

I rolled out of bed, my bare feet meeting the heated marble floors of the King family mansion. The massive tribal tattoo spanning my back stretched as I extended my arms above my head, muscles tensing with the movement. The morning routine was sacred to me: it set the tone for the entire day, and I never compromised on it.

My first stop wasn't the bathroom, but the balcony overlooking my mother's garden. Even in the dim light, I could make out the careful arrangements of roses, hydrangeas, and lilies she'd planted with her own hands. The gardeners maintained it exactly as she had – it was one of my few absolute rules. Sometimes, in moments like this, I could almost see her kneeling among the flower beds, her long dark hair tied back, hands deep in the rich soil as she taught me the names of every bloom.

Padding across to the ensuite bathroom, I caught my reflection in the mirror. The sigil tattoo on my chest seemed to catch what little light there was, drawing my eyes to it as it always did. It was my first tattoo, gotten when I was eighteen – a reminder of promises made and kept. My long dark hair fell past my shoulders, still slightly mussed from sleep. I gathered it into a loose bun before stepping into the shower.

The hot water cascaded over my body, washing away the last vestiges of sleep. My mind was already racing ahead to the day's meetings. King Enterprises had a major merger on the horizon, and every detail needed to be perfect. My father's legacy demanded nothing less.

After my shower, I went through my usual workout routine in my private gym on west wing. The space occupied what used to be the mansion's ballroom – I'd converted it shortly after inheriting the estate. An hour of intensive training later, I felt properly awake. My personal chef had breakfast waiting in the morning room: a protein-rich meal of egg whites, avocado, and whole grain toast. The wall of windows offered a perfect view of the gardens, now catching the first rays of dawn. I scrolled through the morning's emails as I ate, mentally organizing my schedule.

By 7:45, I was in my walk-in closet, selecting today's armor. I chose a perfectly tailored grey Tom Ford suit, crisp white shirt, and a steel-blue tie that brought out my eyes. I slicked my hair back, securing it at the nape of my neck with a discrete band. The man who looked back at me from the mirror was every inch the CEO of King Enterprises: powerful, controlled, untouchable.

The drive to the office was smooth, Rome's morning traffic parting before my Aston Martin like the Red Sea. The familiar rush of adrenaline tingled in my veins as I pushed the car faster than strictly necessary. It wasn't quite the same as racing, but it would do. My mind briefly flickered to that night at the illegal race, to that fleeting moment when I'd locked eyes with...

I pushed the thought away. I'd been doing that a lot lately – pushing away the memory of dark eyes and an artist's hands gripping a steering wheel. It was becoming an annoying habit.

The office was already buzzing when I arrived. My assistant, sahra, fell into step beside me as I strode toward my office, rattling off the day's schedule. I was halfway through my second meeting when my phone buzzed with a call from a number I hadn't seen in weeks.

"Nicholas speaking," I answered, excusing myself from the conference room.

"Ah, Nicholas!" Fredrick Lombardo's warm voice filled the line. "I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time?"

"Never for you, sir." It was true – Fredrick had been more of a father to me than anyone since my own father's passing. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you might be free after five today? I have a proposition for you."

I checked my schedule quickly. "I can make myself available. What did you have in mind?"

"How do you feel about Thailand?" I could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm taking a little trip to Bangkok for some business and pleasure. Would love for you to join me. It's been too long since we've had a proper chat, my boy."

Thailand. The change of scenery might do me good, help clear my head of certain... distractions. "When would we leave?"

"Tonight, if you're amenable. My private jet will be ready at eight."

I smiled. Typical Fredrick – spontaneous yet perfectly prepared. "Count me in. I'll have my assistant clear my schedule for the next few days."

"Excellent! I'll have my people send you the details. Oh, and Nicholas? Pack something casual. It's not all business ."

After hanging up, I threw myself back into work with renewed focus. The day passed in a blur of meetings, contracts, and decisions. By five, my bag was packed and waiting in my office (Maria's efficiency was worth her weight in gold), and I was on my way to the private airport where Fredrick kept his jet.

The sleek Gulfstream G650 stood ready on the tarmac, but it was the group standing beside it that made me pause mid-stride. Uncle Fredrick was there, looking distinguished as always in his casual linen suit, but he wasn't alone. Three younger people stood with him – two men and a woman who were clearly siblings, all sharing the same aristocratic features and bearing.

And those siblings from race were them. The man from the race. He was even more striking in the dying sunlight, his slender frame wrapped in designer clothes that emphasized rather than disguised his toned physique. The dragon tattoo on his left arm peeked out from under his rolled-up sleeve, and I found my eyes drawn to it before I could stop myself.

"Nicholas!" Fredrick called out, walking forward to embrace me. "Perfect timing. Let me introduce you to my children." He gestured to the trio. "This is Louis, my eldest son by seven minutes." The taller of the two men nodded, his expression carefully neutral. I recognized him as the racer I'd beaten that night, though I kept that recognition from my face.

"My daughter Leona." The woman gave me a knowing smile that suggested she saw more than she let on.

"And my younger son, Luca." Those blue eyes met mine again, and for a moment, I was back at that race, feeling that same inexplicable pull. He extended his hand, and I took it, noting the slight calluses that spoke of holding paintbrushes for hours.i had done some background check on him but it didn't mention that he was one of Lombardo's

"A pleasure to meet you all," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the way my pulse had decided to pick up speed. "I wasn't aware this was going to be a family trip."

"Last-minute addition my wife couldn't come for some reason," Fredrick said cheerfully. "The children decided they needed a vacation, and who am I to deny them? Besides, it's about time you all got to know each other properly. You and Luca used to play together as children, did you know that?"

I looked at Luca sharply, searching his face for any hint of recognition. He seemed equally surprised by this information.

"When they were tiny things," Fredrick continued, apparently oblivious to the tension. "Before your father... well, before everything changed. Come on, let's get aboard. We have plenty of time to catch up during the flight."

The interior of the jet was luxurious, designed for comfortable long-haul travel. I found myself seated across from Luca, with Fredrick beside him. Louis and Leona took seats further back, engrossed in their own conversation.

"So, Nicholas," Fredrick said as we reached cruising altitude, "tell me about this merger I've been hearing about. Ambitious move, even for a King."

I launched into an explanation of the business strategy, grateful for the familiar territory. But I couldn't help noticing how Luca's hands moved across his sketchbook as we talked, his pencil dancing across the page with swift, sure strokes. He seemed absorbed in his work, but occasionally I caught him glancing up, studying me with an artist's eye that made me feel simultaneously exposed and intrigued.

"And what about you, Luca?" I found myself asking during a lull in the business talk. "Your father mentions you're an artist?"

He looked up, those dark eyes meeting mine directly for the first time since we'd boarded. "I am," he said, his voice carrying a quiet confidence that belied his reserved demeanor. "Though I doubt my work would interest someone like you. It's rather far removed from merger strategies and profit margins."

There was a challenge in his tone that made my blood warm. "Try me," I said, leaning forward slightly. "I've been known to appreciate beauty in unexpected places."

A faint color touched his cheeks, but he held my gaze. "Perhaps I will, Mr. King. If you can spare the time from your busy schedule to visit a gallery."

"Nicholas, please," I corrected him. "And I always make time for things that interest me."

Fredrick's knowing chuckle broke the moment. "I see some things never change. You two were always challenging each other, even as children. Though back then it was over who could climb trees higher."

The flight continued with easy conversation, though I found my attention repeatedly drawn to Luca's hands as they moved across his sketchbook. There was something mesmerizing about the sure, elegant movements, the way he seemed to pour himself into each stroke. It reminded me of how he'd handled his car that night at the race – with the same focused grace, the same quiet intensity.

As the lights of Bangkok appeared below us, I realized I'd learned practically nothing about our actual business in Thailand. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to care. For the first time in years, I was looking forward to something that had nothing to do with board rooms or bottom lines.

The plane touched down smoothly on the private airstrip, and as we prepared to disembark, Luca finally closed his sketchbook. Our eyes met again, and this time, there was a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Welcome to Bangkok," he said softly, and somehow it felt like both a welcome and a warning. Things were about to get interesting.

To be continued

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