Page 13 of Marcellus: House of Drakos
But it didn’t feel like one.
And true to form, his feelings won out as soon as he approached the intersection ready to speed past the stop sign. But he had to slam on brakes when he saw what was coming for him.
Cars came up on him from the left side and the right side as one came up behind him and another one crossed the lane and came in front of him, pinning him in. Then he saw gunmen hop out of each of those cars, two or three per car, as they aimed their weapons squarely at him. As if they’d been lying in wait for his ass. As if Boris knew Niko’s escape would be an impossibility and that was why he wasn’t trying to fight for his life. Because he didn’t have to. Because he already knew that Nikolas Drakos, the third-oldest son of billionaire aeronautics pioneer Marcellus Drakos, was going to be surrounded.
But if they thought Niko was a Drakos in name only, they were mistook. He never gave up. He never gave in. He pushed through.
He floored his Ferrari and slammed into the car in front of him, with its powerful engine flinging that car sideways, and then he sped through the barricade as a barrage of bullets began peppering his car.
But he ducked and dodged and kept on going. He left those cars and those gunmen in the dust. His fear-driven adrenalin even had him taking his fist and pounding his steering wheel in triumph. It looked as if he had prevailed and was getting away.
Until an SUV, a big silver Dodge Durango, sped into the next intersection he was speeding across as if that SUV had dropped down from the sky. He slammed on brakes violently as soon as he saw it and swerved wildly to avoid a certain collision, causing him to nearly lose control of the steering wheel itself as his car swerved from one side to the other side in a double-overcorrection.
But none of his heroics were rewarded with an escape. He collided with that SUV anyway.
And as his airbags deployed and as he looked out of his rearview mirror and saw that every single one of those cars that had barricaded him one block back had already driven up behind him, he could feel the fight leave his body. Those same gunmen were already out of their cars, their guns drawn, running to secure their prey.
He knew his back was against the wall once again, but only this time that wall was closing in on him fast.
He would have called his beloved father for help, but he knew his father didn’t give a shit.
He would have called his siblings, but they were barely on speaking terms too.
Niko was the black sheep of the family.
He’d always lived by his own rules and on his own terms.
There was no help on the face of this earth for him.
He closed his eyes instead. And resigned himself to his fate.
CHAPTER SIX
“I think I’m in love with Niko.”
“Sounds like a personal problem to me.”
“Miss Savannah that’s rude.”
“What’s rude about it? I told you that boy isn’t interested in anybody on his payroll. I told you and all those other models from day one not to go down that road with him. But y’all fall in love anyway.”
“But I know he’ll want me if you put in a good word for me.”
Savannah couldn’t do anything but shake her head. It was as if every single one of those young models that dawned the doors of that fashion house were certain they could tame the boss and change his unchanging ways. Savannah tried to warn them. Repeatedly she tried. But they never listened to her. She was in her late thirties. She was ancient in their eyes. What, as far as they were concerned, could she possibly tell them that they didn’t already know?
Now it was Charlene’s time to fall for Niko. She was the newest new face who thought she could get anything she wanted in the fashion world. There was no doubt she was in high demand. And Savannah was certain she was thrilled when Niko’s agent contacted her agent. But just because the world wanted her fresh face, and fashion houses wanted her fresh body, didn’t mean Niko wanted her. But she still wouldn’t listen.
“If you put in a good word for me then he’ll at least consider me. You’re his secretary. He thinks so highly of you, Miss Savannah. You’re like a mother to him.”
Savannah wanted to tell that child a thing or two. Niko was a thirty-one-year-old man. She was only six years older than him. Perhaps there were children somewhere that could have babies at six, but she wasn’t one of them. “I’m nobody’s mother,” she said flatly.And wasn’t going to be, she wanted to add. But that was too depressing to add.
“You know what I mean, Miss Savannah,” Charlene said. “Just talk about me when you’re around him, that’s all I’m asking. Just say nice things about me.Pretty please?”
Savannah was behind her desk that sat just outside of Niko’s office. If Charlene only knew how many other models had walked through that door with similarpretty pleasesfor her to put a good word in for them too, then she’d see the fruitlessness of her request.
Besides, Savannah knew her place. She might have some serious power of persuasion over Niko in the eyes of those young models, but at the end of the day she was still only a secretary in a fashion house that was barely breaking even since Covid, and that was barely paying her a survivable wage. She didn’t have it like they thought she had it.
And she wasn’t going to lie to them either. “If you want Niko, that’s between you and him. Keep me out of it,” she said bluntly to the latest model. She thought she was as clear as she could possibly be.
