TRIANA

[World of Art by Triana]

I've been staring at the large painting on the wall that describes my new company for as long as I can remember. I can't believe my dream has finally come to light. I'm a proud founder, if I do say so myself. All the sleepless nights. All the times where I almost gave up, when I'd just slam into bed and cry. The number of times I said no to my father's help. I'd wanted to do this on my own, and finally, here we are! Celebrating the fruits.

Yes, that's me! I truly am my mother's daughter!

My name is Triana Cafiero.

Giving up has never been a word in my dictionary.

I stare at the crowd. The event is at its peak. I watch as most of the guests examine the paintings in the exhibition. Most of them are here to celebrate the opening of my company. However, success doesn't always come with good things alone. One thing I'm sure of is that not everyone who's here is happy for me. There are others with ulterior motives.

Some might be looking for certain opportunities. And by that, I don't mean anything positive. Sadly, that's the world I've grown up in. A world where betrayal, fake loyalty, and greed for power are the norm. I wouldn't put it past my father's enemies to have spies in this place.

I live in a world where, if you get any opportunity to destroy your opponent, you don't hesitate.

I sigh, hoping the night remains as peaceful as it has been. Even though my father put lots of security men in charge, we can't always be one hundred percent sure.

“And there's the lady of the night,” my father's voice disrupts me from my world of thoughts.

I turn to find him smiling, holding two glasses of champagne. His expensive tux makes him look younger than he is. I think it's the way he dresses that makes some of my age mates show interest in him.

He hands me a glass of champagne.

“Did I mention how proud I am?” he asks.

“Only a million times, Dad,” I smile back, taking the champagne glass to my lips.

“You did it!” He opens his arms, looking around. “Your mother would be so proud of you,” he adds.

I'm sure she is, wherever she's watching me from.

“Let's toast to your stubbornness,” he stretches his hand holding the glass of champagne.

“Stubbornness?” I ask with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Do you know how smoothly all this could have gone, had you accepted my help?”

“By help, you mean bribing your way into getting everything done in three days? Or threatening and killing people who get in your way?”

“Triana…you don't have to be so hard. I'm just a father trying to make his daughter happy.”

“And that's why I passed on many of your offers. This isn't just an art gallery. I want this to be my legacy, and I don't want it to have ties with your mafia business, Dad.”

He scoffs and sips his drink. “You're a mafia princess, sweetheart. You can never run away from that.”

“Urgh, Dad. Don't ruin the night for me.”

Someone clears his throat from behind, disrupting my argument.

“Hey, Triana,” says Axel, as he walks to stand beside my father. “Hey,” I smile, happy that he's saved me from a dreadful conversation. Axel is my father's right-hand man. He's worked for him for years, and he's practically become my elder brother.

“Can I steal him for a few minutes?” He asks, referring to my father.

“Oh, you can take him for the whole night, I'm done with him,” I say, expressing my sense of relief.

“I'm still your father,” he sing-songs, walking away with Axel.

Axel’s tone was enough to tell me something was wrong, and he didn't want me to be part of it. Whatever it is, I hope they handle it so it doesn't affect my event.

I make a sharp turn, fed up with their antics, and that's when I bump into him. The splash of drinks makes me jolt, and I gasp, looking at my dress now wet with champagne. “Goodness! Can you watch where you're going?” Says a deep, sultry voice.

Took the words right off my mouth.

I look up at him with widened pupils as anger starts to course through my veins. “I should watch where I'm going?” I snap.

He looks around dramatically. “I don't see anyone close to me other than you.”

The nerve of this man! Whether it's accidental or not, why is he making it my fault? It's my dress that has been compromised. This is a pink silk dress, and there's no way I can hide the stains.

“You're unbelievable,” I mutter as I walk away, placing the glass on the nearest table.

“Hey, wait.” He calls out, and I ignore him as I head for the bathroom.

He's an asshole.

“Wait,” he still calls out from behind me even as I'm closer to the ladies’ room.

I quickly open the door, hoping he'll leave me alone, since gents are not allowed here, or so I think.

To my surprise, as I open the tap to try to clean up the mess, the door cracks open, and it's not a lady who walks in. It's the asshole from earlier.

“Jesus!” My pupils widen as I look at his reflection through the mirror, before turning around to face him.

“You do realize this is the ladies’…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he cuts me off and proceeds to check all the cubicles. There's no one else in this place.

Now this looks creepy.

He approaches me with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his lips. I move backwards with every step he makes until my butt comes into contact with the sink.

“What do you want?” I ask when I realize there's no escape route here. My father always told me to carry my gun everywhere. My outfit today didn't allow it. Besides, I thought my protection was his topmost priority today. I didn't expect a man to follow me to the bathroom...

“Relax, Triana.” He states, as soon as he's closer to me. “I'm not here to hurt you. I just wanted to apologize for how I acted a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, that's so easy to believe. You pour drinks on me and then follow me to the bathroom? Sounds like a calculated move,” I point out.

He sighs and then smiles, and for the first time, I get to notice how beautiful his smile is. How his lips look sexy, more so when curved. And in fact, how hot and handsome he is. He is in a black, crisp suit that makes him look like a model. Or maybe he is an actual model. Because why would someone look this hot? I don't remember inviting models to my event.

I must be riding on a train of insanity, because why the hell am I admiring an asshole who clearly has ill motives? I'm about to ask how he knows my name, but then, I remember, there's not a single person at this event who doesn't. It's written on the main painting, with my face in it.

He moves a step back after I've stared at him for a while.

“I'm sorry,” he says, his voice so sexy that I almost fall for it.

“Who are you?” I ask, my mind finally coming back to what it should be focused on.

“I'm just a guest at your event who's trying to apologize for his mistake,” he answers so naturally.

No.

There's something about him that doesn't sound right, and I can't figure it out.

It's not just the way he's looking at me. His gaze does something to my insides, making my heart race.