Chapter 7 Brianna’s Birthday

Nicholas Andrieux The night air was crisp as I stepped out of my Aston Martin, adjusting the cuffs of my suit before heading toward the entrance of Nocturne, my club. The neon lights illuminated the dark pavement, and the steady thrum of bass vibrated through the ground. The bouncers at the door barely spared me a glance before I stepped aside. They knew better than to make me wait. After all, I am the owner of this renowned high-end club. With my usual cold expression, I walked inside, passing through the crowd effortlessly as people turned to steal glances at me. I ignored them. I took the stairs to the VIP section on the second floor, pushing the heavy door open without hesitation. The room was packed—too many people, too much noise. My gaze swept across the dimly lit space, unimpressed, before I raised a brow. Did Lucas invite the entire city? Or did Brianna tell him to do so? Before I could question it, a familiar arm slung over my shoulders. The scent of expensive whiskey followed. “I knew you’d show up,” Lucas drawled, his signature smirk in place as he took a lazy sip from his glass. I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. “I had no choice. You forced me to come.” Lucas only grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “And yet, here you are. What matters is that you are here. Now let’s go; someone is really excited to see you.” Before I could walk away, Lucas grabbed my arm and pulled me toward a group of women. Among them was Brianna, laughing and chatting with her friends. Her eyes lit up the second she spotted me. “Nicholas!” She smiled widely, waving before making her way toward me. “It’s been a while. I wasn’t expecting you to remember my birthday.” I remained indifferent, hands in my pockets. “Lucas reminded me. And forced me to come.” Her smile faltered for a split second before she masked it, but I caught it. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice light. “What matters is that you’re here.” “That’s what he said,” I said quietly. “What? Did you say something?” I shook my head. “Nothing.” I sighed, feeling the weight of expectation in her gaze. “Happy birthday,” I said simply. Brianna’s face lit up again, and before I could react, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. I stiffened instantly, my hands hovering awkwardly in the air. Physical affection wasn’t something I welcomed, and Brianna knew that. She pulled back slightly, looking up at me. “Come celebrate with me,” she urged, reaching for my hand. Before she could pull me anywhere, my phone buzzed inside my suit pocket. I fished it out, glancing at the screen. Father. My expression hardened. “I have to go,” I said abruptly, still staring at the phone. “For your birthday gift, everything is on me. Enjoy.” “Wait… are you really going to leave? Like now? You just arrived.” She said with a look of confusion and sadness etched on her face. “I have something important to do,” I say hurriedly. Brianna opened her mouth to say something, but I was already turning away. “Nicholas! Where are you going?” Lucas called me, but I ignored him as I pushed past the crowd, heading straight for the exit as I answered the call. “Nicholas,” my father’s voice came through, firm and final. “Tomorrow, the Davenports and Andrieux families will meet.” My grip on the phone tightened. “Why so sudden? And what for?” A short pause. Then my father spoke again, his tone carrying an edge of finality. “Have you forgotten your goal, Nicholas?” I clenched my jaw, my free hand curling into a fist. My father had always been calculated, always moving pieces like a chessboard. And now, he was setting the pieces into place once again. He was really looking forward to this, huh? But I still had no idea why he brought my brother back. That question still runs in my mind. A question I need to find the answer to it. ~~~ I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my tie with steady hands. The black blazer I wore fit perfectly, tailored to precision—just like everything else in my life. Structured. Controlled. Calculated. A knock on my door pulled me from my thoughts. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was. “Come in,” I said flatly. The door opened, and my mother stepped inside. She was dressed elegantly as always, her presence carrying the same quiet grace that had been ingrained in her since birth. I barely spared her a glance before returning my focus to the mirror, ensuring every detail of my appearance was flawless. She moved beside me, watching for a moment before reaching out to adjust my tie. I let her. It was a small, familiar gesture—a rare moment of warmth in a life built on transactions and expectations. “If you don’t want this, Nicholas, you should have told your father,” she said softly. I exhaled, my expression unreadable. “There’s no use talking to him.” She sighed as if she had expected that answer. “I don’t agree with this forced marriage,” she admitted, her voice carrying a rare hint of emotion. I finally stepped aside, looking at myself in the mirror once more. My reflection stared back—collected, unaffected. “It’s not a forced marriage,” I corrected her. “It is a business arrangement. One that benefits both parties. I’m sure you are aware of that.” My mother shook her head, her expression laced with something I couldn’t quite place. “I just want you to be happy, Nicholas. To marry someone you love—not because of business.” I turned to her then, raising a brow. “There’s no such thing as love in the business world. You also married my father for business.” She stilled for a moment before giving a slow nod. “I did.” Then she met my gaze, her voice gentle yet firm. “And that’s exactly why I don’t want you to make the same mistake. I don’t want you to look back one day and regret it.” I said nothing. Because regret wasn’t something I allowed myself to feel. She held my gaze a moment longer before letting out a quiet sigh and stepping away. “Think about it, Nicholas.” “I don’t need to think about it. I am sure of my decision.” I said to my mother with determination in my voice. “Just... think about it. If you regret it, you can’t turn back the time,” she said before leaving the room, closing the door behind her. I was alone again. For a brief moment, I let my gaze drop to the tie my mother had fixed, my thoughts drifting to her words. To regret. I scoffed as I chose my various watches. “Regret is not something I will feel,” I muttered lowly. Regret was a weakness. A useless emotion. And yet, as I stood there, unmoving, my mind drifted to a pair of defiant eyes, filled with fire and determination. Alicia. I smirked faintly, shaking my head before turning away from the mirror. There was no room for regret. Only strategy. And I always played to win.