COMPLICATED.

CHAPTER 41

THE DEN OF WOLVES

Every eye in the room is fixed on me, heavy as a verdict, even though Nick sits motionless at the center of the crystal meeting table, a figure emanating a frigid and solitary authority. He is so engrossed in the voluminous paperwork to be filed and read, submerged in a sea of figures and clauses, that he barely manages to look the people shaking his hand in a mechanical ritual straight in the eye. It is obvious that the "big shots" of this London branch are gathered in this room, and I am more than certain they are not at all accustomed to receiving unexpected visits or witnessing an unpleasant intrusion into their precious, fortified territory by a perfect stranger.
The contemptuous and perplexed glances they cast at me stealthily, like sharpened blades, have made it crystal clear: my presence is not welcome within these walls of glass and steel. Their bright yet malicious eyes and the fake smiles of circumstance they offered as soon as I sat by Nick’s side are merely a disgusting facade to make a good impression on their beloved boss and company president. But what I can glimpse behind their faces, which radiate total and oily falsity, is a massive accumulation of superiority and entirely unjustified hatred.
My hands are sweating from the tension, and I try to wipe them with surreptitious but quick gestures over my jeans, attempting to dry the evidence of my discomfort. Despite all my attempts to appear calm and professional, my embarrassment and my feeling of "being in the way" in that temple of business are nonetheless evident to everyone present. I immediately regret the outfit I chose; I can already hear my mother’s weighted curses in my head about having to prove, through the right clothes, that I am a strong, courageous, and independent woman. As if I haven't felt awkward and out of place for an entire lifetime already... this situation is just the ultimate icing on the cake of an existence spent feeling in the wrong spot.
Everything was so different at the official headquarters. There were so many times when, after my usual afternoon rehearsals with the high school orchestra, I would go visit Nick while he was busy with his interminable meetings at the main branch near Fifth Avenue in New York, and there, most of his employees were always enthusiastic to see me. In fact, I must admit I was quite helpful: I always collaborated with the advertising team and enjoyed showing and brainstorming new ideas to highlight Cold Enterprises in the best way possible. I even handled creating paintings and various designs for luxury events, while also thinking of fun moments for the orphaned children in their foster villas. Every time I stepped foot there, it was also an opportunity to see Nick and convey that little bit of happiness and serenity in moments where stress, responsibility, and tension were at their peak for him. I admit my presence distracted him for a while from his forced and messed-up destiny. The atmosphere was so joyful, as were the people who worked there, whereas here I feel like a rare prey inside a den of ravenous wolves who can't wait to tear me apart at the first opportunity or the first false step.
The atmosphere now, however, is tense, almost suffocating, and making it even more unbreathable is, above all, the odious Caroline. She is the hardened social climber and part-time public relations representative for the company. Yes, exactly, because her first and seemingly only goal is to win the heart of a guy like Nick—or someone at least fifteen years younger than her—shaking her wavy brown hair and fluttering her fake lashes just to get her hands on all his money, only to eventually ruin everything. She follows him around like a faithful puppy, and for years she has tried to obstruct me and push me away from him with all her might, but it has always been futile thanks to Nick’s usual elegant and composed way of putting her back in her place.
Practically another Sasha! Let's just say she does everything to make herself unbearable, and I’m not the only one who thinks so from what I know, especially among the female employees. She is a girl who gets noticed for her sharp but annoying personality; if it were up to me, I would have fired her long ago, but it’s impossible for now. Unfortunately, she is the daughter of one of his richest partners, and so Nick is forced to keep her around to avoid further disasters with the press. The more time passes, the more it seems I am almost entirely abandoning the cordial and kind girl everyone loved—or pretended to love just to gain access to the elite and "IN" class of Manhattan.
My contempt for her grows as I see her drumming her long, red-painted nails on the table, while she shocked-ly analyzes my clothing and mentally compares it to her overly bright and unbearable elegant red suit. Her high heels of the same color scrape nervously across the floor, causing an immediate irritation in my ears. Her dark eyes don't leave my light ones, and meanwhile, in my mind, I come to the conclusion that all I want to do right now is take a bucket of ice water and throw it in her face, just to ruin that exaggerated makeup she has on that makes her look like a horror clown, exactly the kind Paul is so afraid of.
But unfortunately, these scenes of rebellion only happen in my fantasy, and one thing I’ve learned by frequenting this environment full of haughty rich people is never to show your weaknesses and emotions to anyone.
"The better you are at hiding them, the more you will be able to outplay your enemy or opponent. Never show what you feel—absolute indifference," my grandfather used to advise me when I was a child during his rigid lessons on manners and business notions. But at the same time, another question speeds like a fast train through my head: for what reason should she be my enemy or opponent?
"Your rival in love, obviously! Someone is trying to steal your hunk!" my inner voice points out, immediately assuming Amanda's shrill and stern tone.
Alright, I am seriously going crazy now!
Emma, remember your grandfather's words...
ABSOLUTE INDIFFERENCE.
I need to get out of my head as soon as possible.
I give her a quick, plastic smile and nonchalantly shift my attention to the papers one of the many assistants places before us, causing Caroline to let out a nervous sigh audible to everyone, especially Eric, who is sitting right next to her. He smiles triumphantly and laughs quietly when he realizes my game; after all, he knows me very well.
"Can we start, or is it better to know first what is troubling you, Miss Russ?" Eric exclaims aloud, running his hands through his hair and messily pushing back his white, curly locks.
Caroline shifts with gestures that are far too casual yet clumsy in her chair, and after breathing in sharply for a few seconds, she decides to reply.
"I thought this was a private and urgent meeting, otherwise I wouldn't have rushed here to England. I didn't expect the presence of strangers, that's all," she mutters with a shrill, harsh voice.
STRANGER?! Absurd—we've known each other a lifetime and she’s been incinerating me with her gaze forever, and now I’m nothing to her? How I wish that were true... I would have avoided all this annoyance toward her. Then again, thinking back, it wouldn't be the same the other way around! And speaking of annoyance, that voice should be illegal. I have to stay calm, I can do this, I just have to hold on a little longer.
Eric opens his mouth to speak but is immediately stopped by Nick, who breaks into the conversation and shatters the unbearable silence in the room, drawing everyone's attention to himself. My gaze shifts rapidly to his; from his furrowed brow, his bewilderment at this statement is perfectly clear, and his low but powerful voice resonates clearly within the four wide walls of the room.
"Strangers? That’s news to me; after all, we all know each other here. You must be more precise, Miss Russ. Who are you talking about?" he retorts, letting the paperwork fall heavily and loudly onto the table, a sharp thud that makes those present jump.
Emma, control your frustration. We are at one of his important business meetings and now is not the time to let out the recent cranky and indifferent side of you. I look for Eric’s face in an attempt to stop the situation together, but I notice immediately that he is watching the scene with amusement, then raising his eyebrows at me and calmly sipping his beloved tea.
Caroline stands there open-mouthed as she notices the anger in Nick’s words and eyes, and in her panic, she manages to babble something while staring at me sideways.
"We need to discuss important matters reserved only for company employees. This is secret information, and we also need to discuss how to resolve the press statements and how to deny certain rumors. I don't think it’s right that..."
"If your problem is the presence of Miss Hamilton, I suggest you accept it within a few seconds, otherwise there is the door and you can go back to where you came from. She isn't going anywhere," Nick intervenes and states in a furious and imperative tone, brooking no argument.
"You can't be serious now, Nick," Caroline chuckles furiously, though trying to maintain an almost professional tone.
"I remind you that I am Mr. Cold to you. Emma has been of great help during difficult times for the company, and I will not repeat again—to you or anyone else—that she is authorized to intervene in any damn meeting or business matter," Nick continues undeterred, without taking his eyes off Caroline’s, who stares back more bewildered with every word. He takes a short breath and speaks in an even louder, almost solemn voice.
"Furthermore, Harper Publications is one of our great supporters and, during these years, has been fundamental in achieving the company's great successes. This is thanks above all to the girl you consider a 'stranger.' So yes, I am being serious. Either you are fine with it, or you are no longer welcome to participate in this meeting or any future ones. The choice is yours. Thank you," he concludes, rolling his eyes in annoyance and returning to check the infinite figures written on the papers as if nothing had happened. The other colleagues, between low giggles and fake coughs, look at her with embarrassment and then look at me as if I had just won something unique.
Game over, Miss Russ. Better luck next time.
"Uhm, then I'd say we can begin..." babbles the elderly man next to me, while he insistently tries to wipe his sweat-drenched forehead and then his hairless head with the handkerchief from his pocket. Feeling all eyes on him, he begins to frantically and confusingly arrange the sheet with the list of topics to be covered. I sense his tension rising when a second later, without even realizing it, he fans the same sheet in front of his face in a desperate attempt to catch some air.
It took me very little time to realize that, compared to his colleagues, he was the most clumsy and emotional. A single look from Nick the moment he stepped into the room was enough to petrify him instantly and almost make him spill all the food available on the table.
I can't blame him; it's hard to resist his charm and his authoritative professional side. We certainly aren't the only ones here going crazy for his presence, only I know how to hide it, more or less. I mean, how do you resist and not get trapped in those intense turquoise eyes? You can't, so you have to surrender from the start.
CONCENTRATE, dammit!
Everyone stares at him worriedly, probably fearing a possible negative reaction from the "big boss." They study every single facial movement of Nick’s in meticulous detail, but as always, he surprises everyone the moment his most spontaneous laugh echoes through the room; the mood seems to lighten and the tension finally fades. The wink and the funny faces Nick reserves secretly just for me make me realize that with me, he returns to being the carefree and fun teenager everyone knew in high school and that I adore so much.
"Now that we've cleared the situation, it's better to deal with the serious and urgent matters at hand," Eric murmurs, sighing and gathering documents from a large yellow folder with what look like related photos.
TOP SECRET MATERIAL is the red capital lettering that appears, occupying almost the entire cover, and when Eric slides it toward Nick, everyone gasps, as if they already know that whatever is inside will be terrible; I must admit it’s the same feeling I’m getting too. Once the folder is in Nick’s hands, silence reigns again and his confused gaze studies every single word and every detail of the photos.
"What am I looking at, Eric? Tell me, how worried should we be?" he whispers hoarsely, trying to swallow and find his voice again.
"These were taken tonight in the early hours of the morning. The police and the FBI are already investigating on the ground and I am in close contact with them for any updates. These are the structures and skyscrapers your father had transformed into shops, and the others nearby are essential buildings for our restaurant chain here in London," Eric replies all in one breath but with a harsher tone than usual, pointing from a distance to the places Nick is analyzing.
"What the hell happened? They look like anything but that," Nick retorts, whispering, clearly terrified by what he sees.
"And this isn't the first time it’s happened in this neighborhood and other places in our area. Activating bodyguards or putting more security in the affected places is the most sensible thing now," a woman with a deep English accent intervenes, analyzing the same sheets.
"Sir, we cannot afford more scandals; it would plunge the London company into the deepest abyss. If we don't intervene as soon as possible, the image of Cold Enterprises will be stained forever, and no one will be able to stop it," the man next to her continues to state in a quite worried tone. From the golden tag near his jacket pocket, I’ve understood he is the person managing the company's affairs here in London. Nick’s gaze shifts slowly based on who is speaking, but at the same time, he is lost in his thoughts, terrified by what has happened.
"The press is in a frenzy; I’ve tried to stop most of the major newspapers, but the situation has escalated and the company name appeared on the front page instantly. I can't offer any more money now; the news is viral on the Internet and all over the news. I can try to calm the waters with a press conference," Caroline intervenes.
"Offer more, dammit!" Nick thunders at her, holding back from punching the table and making her jump in her seat, as well as everyone else, including me.
"Nick, enough! You have to control yourself; nothing gets solved with this attitude!" Eric exclaims loudly in an attempt to call his attention, which happens right after Nick tried to reassure me with a slight smile.
I know you, Nicholas Cold, and you know me—you can't fool me. But what is happening? It’s all so confusing.
I can glimpse from the folder in front of my seat photos of entire places reduced almost to rubble: furniture destroyed and thrown all over the street, remains of objects blackened by fire, smoke and black dust in every corner, shop windows shattered into a thousand pieces and, above all, unmistakable bullet holes. It looks like a neighborhood after a bombing, but the thing that makes me shiver the most is the huge blood-red writing on the walls of every single building: