The driver pulls the car to a stop in front of a mansion I immediately know belongs to Nero’s family, even though I wasn’t expecting to be brought here.
When he told me—by text—that he was sending a car to take me to him because he was still stuck at work, I assumed I was being taken to the export company. After a few minutes, I realised I didn’t recognise the route, but I figured Nero might be handling something off-site that day.
What never once crossed my mind was that he would send me here. Alone.
Especially after admitting that his parents arecomplicated people.
What exactly was that supposed to mean?
If their own son couldn’t explain it, how was I supposed to deal with it?
I offer a polite smile to the middle-aged man behind the wheel.
“Excuse me—Nero is expecting me here?”
“No, Mr. Nero Zanthos hasn’t arrived yet,” he replies. “But don’t worry. There’s someone else here to receive you.”
“Someone else?” I ask.
This time, he doesn’t answer.
He steps out of the car, walks around it, opens my door, and gestures for me to go inside.
I wet my lips and do as he says.
An uncomfortable sensation crawls over my skin, and I shake my head, trying to brush it off. I walk slowly across the stone path and climb the three short marble steps, stopping only when I reach the door.
I’m debating whether I should knock or simply wait when it opens.
A woman in an elegant navy-blue dress stands there. Her pale skin glows in sharp contrast with her very dark hair and piercing blue eyes. If I didn’t know Nero was adopted, I would never doubt it—they look strikingly alike.
“Hello, good afternoon,” I forced my best smile, suddenly feeling as nervous as if I were meeting the Pope instead of my future mother-in-law.
“Oh,” she replies coldly, her gaze sweeping over every inch of me, judging everything from my hair to my shoes, if the disdain curling her lips is any indication. “You finally arrived. You’re late.”
“I—”
“Spare me your excuses for your incompetence,” she cuts me off sharply. “And put yourself in your place. Take the service entrance.”
Before I can explain that there must be some kind of mistake, she shuts the door in my face.
I blink at the white wood, stunned.
Nero said he couldn’t quite explain how his parents were complicated.
Well—warning me that his mother was a snobandan abusive boss would’ve been a good start.
It takes me a few seconds to move. I glance over my shoulder, looking for anyone who might help me figure out what to do.
When I find no one, I turn and walk back down the steps. I scan the property as far as my eyes can reach. First one side, then the other.
Several metres to my right, I spot a gardener.
I tilt my head, stretching my tense neck, and slowly exhale, giving myself a moment to gather courage and deal with the situation. If I was nervous before, I don’t even know how to define what I’m feeling now.
Balancing carefully on my heels while my whole body threatens to tremble, I walk toward the man partially hidden by shrubs, trimming hedges.
“Excuse me,” I say, offering a brief smile.
