Chapter 93: Fallen
Nico
I took another massive gulp of the cognac, the alcohol burning hot against the urge to scream it out loud, to fiercely mark my territory and tell her to back the fuck off because Alaric was entirely mine.
I forced the emotion down, locking it behind a cold, mocking sneer. "So you want him back. Is that what this is?"
Sophia shook her head instantly. "No. Alaric and I were over a long time ago, even before the crash happened. I always knew deep down that he liked men, even if he wasn’t ready to acknowledge it back then, so I let him go. But right now? I’m not talking about his feelings, Nicholas. I’m talking about yours. I’ve seen the way you hover around him."
I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I flicked the ash from my cigar onto the deck. "What are you now? A relationship mind reader?"
Sophia shrugged her shoulders casually. "I might be a beauty model now, but I studied psychology in university before my career took off. Trust me, I am very good at reading people."
I shut my mouth, refusing to feed into her trap. I just sat there, smoking in tense silence, waiting to see what kind of game she was playing.
"I also know that you haven’t come out to the world," Sophia continued softly, her voice dropping to a serious, grounded tone. "Which really makes me wonder why. It’s 2025, Nicholas. We have plenty of incredibly successful, openly queer athletes in motorsport now. The grid isn’t the closet it used to be. Whatever personal demons are keeping you from being honest with yourself are your own business... but please, do not hurt Alaric in the process. He has already survived the absolute worst moment of his life. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like a disposable secret. I am pleading with you—treat him right."
A bitter laugh broke from my throat. I turned to her, my eyes flashing with irritation. "Where the hell are you going with this, Sophia? I can’t fucking believe you walked all the way out here just to lecture me about accepting your ex. You honestly think I like him? I don’t. I don’t care what you think you saw between us—whatever is happening behind closed doors is strictly pleasure. It’s temporary. There is absolutely nothing else to it."
Sophia didn’t look angry. She just nodded slowly, a small, sad smile touching her lips. "You know, the ones who have fallen the deepest are always the ones who scream the loudest in denial."
"I haven’t fallen," I snapped, my voice cutting through the sound of the ocean waves. "I never fall. I don’t care what kind of psychological amateur hour you’re trying to pull right now, but nothing is happening between us. Don’t get it twisted."
"If you say so," she said softly, shifting her weight as she prepared to stand. "But a little advice from someone who knows how this ends: I really hope you don’t realize the truth too late. Because nowadays, Nicholas... no one waits around forever for someone else to finally figure themselves out." She reached over, her hand gently brushing against my shoulder in a rare moment of genuine warmth. "I know you don’t consider me a friend, but if you actually care about Alaric... go get him."
"In your dreams. I don’t like him," I scoffed again, staring stubbornly at my glass.
Sophia sighed, stretching her hand out toward me. "Hand me your phone."
I gave her a deeply questioning, suspicious look. She didn’t blink, keeping her palm open. "Just give it to me, Nicholas."
"Fine," I muttered, aggressively pulling the device out of my pocket and slapping it into her hand.
She didn’t say a word. She quickly scrolled through, her fingers flying across the screen for a few seconds before she turned the face of the phone back toward me. On the screen was the leaked production video—the exact footage of the beach confrontation that was currently destroying the brand’s stock market value.
I scoffed, leaning away. "I already know about the goddamn video, Sophia. My manager has been breathing down my neck about it for the last two hours."
"No, you idiot. That’s not why I’m showing it to you," she said, her voice dropping all its sarcasm, becoming completely piercing. "Look closer at the video, Nicholas. Don’t look at the scandal. Look at your own face. Look at the absolute terror in your eyes when you grabbed him, and ask yourself if that looks like ’strictly pleasure’ to you. Ask yourself if a man who doesn’t care looks like he’s about to die from panic."
She gently tapped my shoulder one last time, stepping back into the shadows of the lounge. "Like I said... the ones who deny the truth are always the ones who are already gone. Have a good evening, Nicholas."
I didn’t even raise my head to watch her walk away.
The sound of her footsteps faded into the background, completely drowned out by the sudden, violent rushing of blood in my ears.
My eyes were glued to the glowing screen.
Sophia was right.
I hit replay, watching the footage frame by frame. My face... I looked entirely unhinged. The sheer, breathless desperation on my face as I dragged Alaric out of the water wasn’t the look of a rival, or a casual hookup, or a dominant Alpha playing a game. I looked like a man whose entire world was about to vanish beneath the waves. I looked at him as if he were my lover, as if my own life depended on his next breath.
The last time I had ever felt that specific, suffocating brand of raw, helpless terror... was the day my father committed suicide. The day I realized I was too late to save the person who mattered most to me.
The craziest, most terrifying part about watching the clip wasn’t even the footage itself—it was the fact that right now, just staring at the expression on my own face, my heart was hammering so violently against my chest it felt like it would burst through my skin.
What the hell is this?
A cold sweat broke out across my neck. Had I truly fallen for him?
No. There was no fucking way in hell.
I could never allow myself to develop those kinds of pathetic, vulnerable feelings for Alaric. This was just a game. It had to be.
It was just a pleasure.
