NERO: Alliance Series Book One

“This the place?” the woman driving the car asks as she slows to a stop behind a line of fancy-looking cars.

I look up at the massive stone building. “I think so.” Then I look again at all the expensive vehicles ahead of us. “It must be.”

I’ve never been to the Minnesota Historical Center before. I guess I was expecting an old house, or something like that. But this isn’t a house. It’s a whole freaking museum.

Trepidation fills my belly, and for the millionth time I debate if I should’ve texted Nero today.

But text him what?

Did you really mean to invite me?

He wouldn’t have given me an invitation if he didn’t want me to come.

Why didn’t you just tell me about this last night when we were talking?

Nero hands out information like it pains him, so bringing up a birthday party would probably be torture for him.

“Want to wait? Or want me to let you out here?” the driver asks, her own hesitation obvious in her tone.

Her car is nice, by my standards, but the car in front of us is a Maserati.

“Umm…” I’m not sure how to answer. On one hand, yes I want to get out now, so I can pretend I also drove here in a luxury vehicle worth more than my entire existence. On the other hand, I don’t want to walk all the way to the front door from here in my new shoes.

I wiggle my toes inside my high heels, already feeling the pinch since they’re too narrow.

Weighing the options, I decide that my feet are going to be killing me no matter what, so I might as well save myself the humiliation of arriving in an Uber.

“I’ll get out here.”

“Alright!” She doesn’t even ask if I’m sure, clearly happy to be rid of me and go pick up a new rider.

The second I open the door, my bare legs are greeted with chilled air.

Hunching my shoulders against the cold, I add a tip for my driver on the app, then stick my phone in my little clutch, pointedly ignoring the amount of money I’ve dropped on today. But this is the last expense, because hopefully Nero will give me a ride home. And hopefully this party has an open bar.

Starting up the long stretch of sidewalk, I keep my gaze ahead of me, not looking at the tinted windows of the vehicles as I walk past.

I can’t spare the energy to worry about what they might think of me, I’m nervous enough as it is, walking into Nero’s party.

I really wish he’d just talked to me about it, so we could arrive together. But maybe he was… embarrassed? Although it doesn’t seem like the right word. I can’t picture Nero embarrassed. But this might all be as new for him as it is for me. Obviously not the sex part, but maybe the relationship part.

As I near the steps leading up to the front of the building, I fall in step behind a glamourous couple.

The man is dressed in a tuxedo, but the woman is in a short red dress, giving me a sense of relief.

After finding the invite this morning, I caught the bus and went back to Marshall’s. When I was there yesterday, an amazing black sequined dress caught my eye. It was shorter than I’d usually dare to wear, had a deep-V neckline, and long sleeves. Just for fun I tried it on, when I was looking for my concert outfit. And even though it was tighter than I’d thought, the fitted material was flattering––the nonstop sequins worked to hide the lumps of my hips and belly. But I had zero reason to buy it, so I hung it back up and walked away.

Luckily, it was still there today. So I bought it. Just like I bought these god-awful ice blue pumps. They’re super pretty, and they perfectly match the little clutch purse I found, but I swear my feet are already bleeding.

Climbing the steps, I resist the urge to wince as much as I resist the urge to tug on my hem. I can’t think about how short the dress is, or I’ll break out into a nervous sweat.

On the ride over, I started to worry that maybe I should’ve gone with something long, like a gown––not that I would’ve known where to look for one of those––but the dress on the woman in front of me is even shorter than mine.

I still have plenty to worry about this evening, but at least I don’t have to worry about my hemline.

At the top of the steps, there are six men dressed in matching jackets with Nero’s embroidered on the front. This must be part of the security team. Makes sense that Nero would use his own company for his party, but six guys? That seems like overkill.

Mobsters.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.

Is this party going to be full of men like Nero? Dangerous ones?

“Invitation?” A deep voice snaps my attention to the right.

A man the size of a house holds his hand out for me.

“Oh, yes. One second.” I try to smile, but I’m suddenly terrified. I just want to get inside and find Nero. I know I’ll feel better when I’m at his side.

I tip my head down as I open my clutch, and my hair slides over my shoulder, falling into my face.

I opted to leave it down in waves tonight, and I’ll be happy to use it as a shield later, but my shaky fingers are having trouble enough with pulling the invitation out of my bag without the obstruction to my view.

Shaking my hair out of the way, I push aside my phone and lip gloss and pull the invitation free.

 A slight embarrassment warms my cheeks when I have to unfold the invite, since it was too big to fit in my little purse. I hated bending it, but I’m glad I did. Because I almost left it at home and being turned away now might kill me.

He takes it from me, scanning it for a second before giving me the same treatment and furrowing his brows. “You here alone?”

“Um, yes.” I sound unsure since I wasn’t expecting the question.

“Most of the women are here as a plus one.”

“Oh.” That seems like a weird thing to say. “Well, I’m here with Nero.”

The man narrows his eyes, scrutinizing me, and I don’t know what he sees, but he stands a little straighter and motions for me to walk ahead.

I’m about to hold my hand out to take the invite back, but he slides it into a slotted box at his side. Well crap, I wanted to keep that.

I’m only mildly surprised when, a few steps later, I have to hand my purse over for inspection and pass through a metal detector, before I can finally enter the building.

The warm air of the interior is a welcome friend and I force some deep inhales to help my muscles relax.

There are several people walking in at the same time as me, so I follow their lead as they follow the signs directing us to the event space. As we get closer, the signs are hardly necessary, since the din of voices easily carries across the marble floors.

My steps slow to a stop, and I gawk.

Nothing could have prepared me for the grandeur.

The room is packed with people. Some mingling, others standing around those round high-tables in deeper conversation. There’s a bar just to the side of where I’m standing, and another I can see across the room.

Music filters through the voices, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a five-piece band set up in the corner.

Just when I think I couldn’t feel more awed, I look up.

The ceilings are soaring, so high up, there’s a life-sized model airplane suspended above the crowd.

Wow.

I’m so out of my element. And the only way I’m making it through tonight is with alcohol.

Aiming straight for the bar, I watch the people in line ahead of me and notice they don’t pay for their drinks. And there’s not even a tip jar out. Huh.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asks me, and I realize I hadn’t spent any of that time thinking about what I’d want.

“Oh, um…” I trail off, my eyes trying to catalog all the bottles displayed behind her.

The side of her mouth lifts into a smirk. “I can help you decide if you want.”

My shoulders sag in relief. “Yes, please.”

She chuckles. “First question, do you want a little booze or a lot of booze?”

“A lot,” I admit with a smile.

“Sweet or not sweet?”

“Sweet.” I answer immediately.

She nods. “I have just the thing.”

Watching her pour from bottles I don’t recognize into a shaker, I give up trying to keep track of what she’s making and turn a little so I can scan the room for Nero.

He’s tall, so I feel like I should be able to find him. But I’m not tall, and there are so many freaking people here.

For Nero’s birthday.

Once again, my stomach twists into a knot.

I’ve never been to a party like this, or around this many people. It’s incredibly intimidating.

“Here you are.”

I feel my eyes widen when I see the pretty blue martini sitting on the bar top. There’s salt along the rim and the thinnest circle of lime floating across the surface.

“I’m gonna call it a margarita-martini baby.” The bartender grins. “And I was admiring your shoes when you got in line, so I decided to make a drink to match.”

“It’s brilliant.” I shake my head a little, amazed at her attention to detail.

When I start to open my purse, preparing to give her the last of my cash, she lays her hand on the bar. “We can’t accept tips tonight.”

“Oh, but––”

“Don’t worry, this gig pays more than my last two combined, so we’re good.”

“If you’re sure…?”

She smiles. “Positive. Enjoy.”

I thank her as I carefully lift the drink and take a sip. Then I take another, larger sip.

The bartender has already started on her next drink, but she winks at me when I mouth the word wow.

I don’t know why she was being so friendly to me, maybe she can tell I’m completely out of place and off the rack; regardless of the reason, I’m glad for her kindness.

Sipping on my drink, I work my way in and out of the crowd, but see no sign of Nero.

This is his party. You’d think he’d be easy to find. Or at the very least there’d be one congregation larger than the others, with him at the center. But there’s nothing like that. So I scope out a random path, moving slowly, aiming for casual as I turn my head left and right looking for the birthday boy.

My body sways on my next step, as I teeter on my heels; I look down, alarmed, to find that my drink is mostly gone.

Remembering that the only thing I’ve eaten today was a cup of ramen, I vow to intercept one of the waiters I’ve seen walking around with trays of finger food soon and stuff my face. If the food is even half as good as this drink, it’ll be the best thing I’ve ever had.

And it’s then, as my mind is fully focused on food, that I spot the profile I could recognize by touch.

Dark hair styled back from his face, perfectly-thick beard framing his strong jaw, and a stance that comes from leadership. There’s no question who’s in charge here. And now that I’ve found him, I wonder how it took me so long. His energy is palpable. It’s like I can feel him. Even with a dozen people still separating us.

As the crowd shifts, my view of him comes and goes, but I keep moving forward, side-stepping a man who shifts into my path.

Nero hasn’t seen me yet, but my mouth is already pulled into a smile.

I can’t wait to wish him a happy birthday.

All of these people are here for him, to celebrate with him. And he can say whatever he wants about what type of man he is but if I threw a birthday party for myself, inviting every person I’ve ever known, it wouldn’t fill half of this space. Hell, it wouldn’t even fill my living room. And that counts for something. Or it should.

His mouth is moving as he talks to the man in front of him, so I slow my progress.

I don’t want to interrupt him. That would be rude, and awkward.

Thinking it would be best not to sneak up behind him, I circle out a bit until I’m approaching him from straight on, giving him a chance to spot me before I reach him.

My heart is beating so fast, my nerves rocketing into the stratosphere.

I take another sip of my drink to try and calm myself.

It’s gonna be good.

Blowing out a breath, I move closer.

The crowd shifts again, and this time I’m rewarded with a sliver of Nero’s full body. Wrapped neck to toe in black, he looks wickedly handsome. His chest looks sculpted, the way it’s wrapped in that vest.

A bolt of red draws my attention.

Red nails.

Long, bright red nails, attached to slim fingers that are pressing against his vest. Right over his heart.

My feet stop.

My heart racing for a whole new reason.

The crowd shifts again, and a rock forms in the base of my throat.

Snug against Nero’s side is a woman. A shockingly gorgeous woman. Whose slender legs, hips and waist are flaunted in a skin-tight red dress. Her giant breasts test the physics of her strapless neckline, and her raven hair is pulled up into a slick bun. She looks like she walked straight off a movie set.

And she’s touching Nero.

I shift closer, trying to understand what I’m seeing.

Maybe they’re just talking to each other.

Maybe she’s one of those people who’s really touchy with her friends.

Not that I’d want him to be friends with another woman.

Maybe it’s not what it looks like.

I repeat that last sentence in my head, over and over, while my eyes move back to Nero’s face. Hoping against hope for some sign that this is all a misunderstanding.

As I watch, I can see that Nero isn’t paying her any attention. But he’s also not pushing her away. He’s preoccupied talking to that other guy.

Old words batter against the back of my mind, telling me I’m stupid. Worthless… And it’s like Nero hears them.

His focus shifts over the other man’s shoulder, and our eyes lock.

The feeling of it is like a physical weight. And not a comfortable one.

As he stares back at me, his expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t smile at me. Doesn’t wince at getting caught. He doesn’t do anything to even acknowledge that he recognizes me.

I take a step closer, wanting to talk to him. Wanting him to explain why everything will be alright. But he looks away, focusing back on the man in front of him.

My body stills, my jaw tensing, my walls wrapping tight around my heart, and something inside of me cracks when I realize it’s the same reaction I have when I’m about to get hit.

The shame and fear and sadness bind together inside of me.

And when movement catches my eye, I slide my gaze down to watch Nero’s hand curling around the woman’s hip.

This time when I sway, I have to put my hand out, balancing myself on the arm of someone standing beside me.

I mumble an apology, even as my mind starts to slip into survival mode.

Nero’s hand stays in place, and at his touch, the woman turns herself further into his body.

My eyes are already brimming with unshed tears, but I drag them back up. Hoping that maybe there’s an explanation. That he’ll be smiling, and wave me over, and tell me this is all a joke.

But he’s not looking at me.

He doesn’t even flick a glance my way.

My heart sinks deeper into my chest, squeezing in on itself to seem smaller, to feel less.

And all the while, Nero just stands there, pretending I don’t even exist.