My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 58 Queens & Pawns

NOVA POV

What did he mean, I should have walked when I had the chance?

The words rolled around my head like loose marbles on smooth tiles. My heart plummeted straight to my stomach, then lower, heavy and cold between my legs.

The whole hall seemed to shrink smaller and hold its breath or maybe because the power had flickered out, maybe because the music had stopped mid-violin note, or maybe because every soul in the room had heard Luca’s voice turn Creepy and unhinged.

Can Luca possibly be this deranged?

Maybe. Maybe Not.

I can’t remember the last time I prayed from all the chaos and tension in my life recently but I quickly said a prayer of protection and rebuked any sudden death.

When the lights snapped back on, everything looked a little wrong, kind of like a painting someone had tampered with. Grant wasn’t at my side anymore. He and Luca were together at the opposite end of the hall like two storms poised to collide, and I was somewhere far from there hoping they wouldn’t tear themselves apart.

I wanted to stop them, but I couldn’t. My body felt too taut, too brittle, like a badly tuned instrument. My head was buzzing. All I wanted was something cold, something quiet, something familiar and comfortable or anything to stop the noise inside me.

I slipped away, dragging my tired feet, the too-high heels biting into my skin with every step. My reflection in the passing mirrors looked pale and hollow like that of an Halloween ghost.

In the bathroom, the world finally slowed. The cold water poured into the sink, the sound grounding me as I gently unclasped the miniature flash drive from my bracelet.

The damn thing was my one mistake, my one insurance so I carefully tucked it deep inside the hidden seam of my dress.

Cold water hit my hands. I imagined it washing away every trace of this night from the tension, the fear, the lies to the drama. I imagined it taking the memories too.

Minutes passed, or maybe hours. My pulse steadied. My breathing softened. For a brief, fragile second, I thought maybe I could still save myself. Maybe I could crawl back to my room, collapse on my bed bury myself deep in an erotica novel, and pretend this night never existed. Pretend I wasn’t in over my head.

But deep down, I knew this was the kind of story you bury inside yourself and never speak of again. Not even to your dear friends.

"Quindi sei la puttana sopravvalutata."

The Italian slithered through the air like a snake.

I froze. My eyes widened and lifted slowly to the mirror.

There stood Luca’s fiancée looking stunningly tall, elegant, and dangerous in a way that didn’t need weapons. Her gaze was the kind that could gut a person without lifting a finger.

And beside her, of course, was Sandy.

Because the universe wasn’t done screwing me yet.

"Meaning," Sandy’s grin widened, "so you’re the overhyped whore."

My throat went dry. The calm I’d forced moments ago shattered. The room felt smaller, the walls inching closer.

She moved like she owned the room and everything in it, her movement was unhurried, graceful and damn well precise. A long, thin cigarette holder twirled between her fingers, its smoke curling in slow, deliberate shapes as she circled me.

She gives a female alpha aura like a mafia boss but a very beautiful version, almost deceptive. The kind of woman who didn’t need to raise her voice, the room adjusted to her presence instead.

Sandy folded her arms and leaned lazily against the doorpost. Her eyes sparkled with venom. "I told her you were dumb," she said, almost conversationally. "Didn’t think you’d actually prove me right by showing up here like a puppy chasing a bone."

She knew she dropped me here against my wishes but if she wants to play game, no issues. I clenched my jaw, but she pressed on, sensing blood.

"What’s it like, Nova? Knowing both of them only want you because they want to piss each other off? You’re not even special, just the chaos that makes powerful men feel alive for a minute." Her smile sharpened. "When they’re done, they’ll sweep you into the same gutter they found you in."

My nails dug into my palms, but I didn’t speak. If I opened my mouth, I’d either cry or scream, and both would feed them.

Luca fiancé exhaled another perfect stream of smoke, her voice a low purr. "Sandy, you talk too much. Let the girl breathe before she faints."

The mockery in her tone made my stomach twist. She wasn’t defending me, she was strategically setting the stage for my downfall.

Then, muddled hurried steps soubded closer, the faint creak of a shoe against marble.

"We finally meet, Giulia Romano. You look more gorgeous in person."

Grant.

Relief washed through me so violently I nearly sagged.

He was here. I wasn’t alone.

But Giulia only smiled faintly, tilting her head. "I prefer La Donna di Ferro, Calloway," she corrected, her accent silk-wrapped steel. "Not Giulia."

The Iron Lady.

Sandy half-giggled, half-squeaked the words under her breath like an awed child, but neither Giulia nor Grant looked her way.

Giulia’s gaze flicked toward me when Grant announced in his strict office voice. "You’re in possession of something precious to me."

The words made me feel kind of giddy and I would have blushed if this was another situation entirely.

I didn’t say anything instead I tried taking deep measured breaths to balance my mind.

My lips parted to say something in the weird silence , but her expensive and melodic, cruel laughter cut through the air before I could speak.

"Dimmi che è una spedizione di cocaina e non quella puttana."

Her cigarette holder nearly grazed my cheek.

Sandy was glowing with joy as she translated, "She said she hopes it’s a cocaine shipment you’re referring to and not this dirty whore."

"Basta."

Giulia lifted her hand, the motion enough to silence the room. Her nails caught the light and I couldn’t resist the feminine urge to admire the matte black above, blood red beneath.

Louboutin for nails like murder made fashionable.

Damn.

"I can talk for myself," she said, flawless English flowing like smoke. "Calloway. I don’t fight over dicks. I have more than enough at my disposal." Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. "And if you and Vitellio want to take this same pussy—" she gestured lazily toward me "—I don’t care. But I do care about my damn reputation. I won’t allow this to stain what people say about me."

The quiet that followed was thick enough to choke on.

I nodded instinctively, my throat burning.

Giulia took one slow step closer, her perfume heavy and expensive and suffocating.

"If you want to be with Luca fucking Vitellio, do it where there are no cameras. And until the engagement and wedding are over, don’t have a child for him. Not until he gives me an heir. Keep the pussy drugged."

Sandy’s jaw dropped a little, probably realizing this was no jealous lover rant, this was a queen issuing policy to her subjects.

"You’re too young," Giulia said next, softer now, almost fond, "to die the same way your parents did. But if you test me—" her nails dug into my arm hard enough to bruise "—a gunshot will be a pity death from me."

Tears pricked hot at my eyes. I nodded, once. Twice.

Then she released me, as gracefully as she’d grabbed me.

"Oh, Sandy?—" she began as she glided past, her heels whispering against marble. "Thank you for bringing me the gossip. But I already knew about their little game before the pawn even realized she was on the board."

The color drained from Sandy’s face. Her fake smile twitched.

Giulia paused at the door beside Grant, eyes gleaming like a cat’s.

"Also," she said, turning back to me, "that flash drive you took?" Her voice dripped honey and venom. "It’s a trap. Encrypted with a virus. The information you’ve been bleeding yourself for doesn’t exist."

My heart stopped.

She smiled sweetly.

"You’ve been played."

And with that, she turned away, smoke trailing behind her like a signature.

Her last words lingered, soft and devastating:

"Welcome to the mafia pawn shop."