4

She looked at wasted Nico sprawled across the massive bed, snoring like a dragon who'd lost his fire. His shirt was halfway open, one shoe still on, and his face completely dead to the world.

Red sighed, rubbing her hands against her dress, whispering to herself, “You seriously know how to pick them, Red.”

Another knock.

She turned slowly, eyes on the door like it might explode. With a deep breath and all the courage she could pull from her soul, she walked over and cracked it open.

Standing there was a frail, fox-haired woman in pearls and an outfit that probably cost more than Red's entire life. She looked like someone’s expensive grandma—with a smile that didn’t quite reach her sharp eyes.

“There you are, darling!” the woman beamed, her voice sugar-sweet and terrifying. “You must be the surprise Nico went out to get!”

Red blinked, confused, frozen. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t be shy,” the woman said, stepping closer like she owned the place. “I’m his grandma.”

His what now?

Red blinked. Her brain glitched. Grandma?

“I’ve always wanted a daughter-in-law from my stubborn-headed grandson,” she added with a warm grin, walking straight into the room without waiting for an invite.

Red instinctively stepped back, letting her pass because—what else could she do? This woman had the confidence of royalty and the voice of someone who always got her way.

“Um… I think there’s been a mistake,” Red said nervously. “I’m not really—”

“Nonsense,” Grandma cut her off, waving a hand. “You’re already here, aren’t you? And look at him—so peaceful with you around. I’ve never seen Nico let anyone that close.”

Red glanced at Nico, who had just shifted in bed, still knocked out like a baby rhino. Peaceful? The man looked like a corpse in luxury.

“And why is he still in that rumpled mess?” Grandma frowned, folding her arms. “Won’t you help him out of those clothes?”

Red almost choked. “I—I can’t undress your grandson!”

“Darling, you’re going to be his wife,” Grandma said with a teasing smile. “You better get used to it. And while you’re at it, find something decent for yourself to wear. That dress screams nightclub, not Bellami mansion.”

Oh my god.

Red stood there, frozen, her brain screaming I should’ve let Marcelo pop my cherry instead of ending up in this billionaire horror show.

But Grandma was already fluffing the pillows and pulling out Nico’s nightwear from the wardrobe like this was a regular Tuesday.

Red gave the passed-out man a glare. “You, sir,” she muttered under her breath, “are the most expensive disaster I’ve ever met.”

And somehow, she was still here.

Just as Red turned to explain again that this was all one huge misunderstanding, her handbag—her poor overstuffed handbag—slipped right off her shoulder and hit the marble floor with a loud thud.

“No, no, no—” she whispered, diving down to catch it.

Too late.

Out spilled her essentials… and her deepest regrets. Lip balm. Charger. Gum. A bright red lace thong.

Her thong.

Red froze, eyes wide in horror as the little piece of fabric landed perfectly—mockingly—in the middle of the room like a trophy.

“Oh!” Grandma gasped, clasping her hands over her heart. “You two already…?” Her eyes sparkled like she just won the lottery. “My stars! You’ve moved fast! No wonder he passed out like that.”

Red’s soul left her body.

“No! No-no-no, that’s not what—he’s drunk! I just—he just dragged me in here and I helped him walk!”

Grandma wasn’t listening. She was too busy beaming like she was ready to plan a baby shower.

“I always said it,” the old woman sighed happily. “It takes a bold woman to tame a Bellami. And to think, on his engagement night too… oh, you must be the reason he rejected that Briel girl.”

Red wanted to crawl under the bed and die.

She bent to shove everything back into her bag, muttering curses under her breath. Her fingers were shaking so hard she dropped the thong twice.

“That’s it,” Grandma grinned proudly. “You’ve marked your territory. You’re the one, I feel it. I can’t wait till Nico wakes up—he’s going to be so happy you stayed.”

Red straightened up, her face redder than her name. “Yeah. Super happy. Can’t wait.”

What the hell kind of rom-com nightmare is this?

And worst of all? Grandma was already heading to the door with a wink. “I’ll have some tea sent up. You two must be tired.”

Then she was gone.

Red slowly turned to the man still passed out like a spoiled god on the king-sized bed.

“You. Ruined. My. Life,” she whispered.

Red was still pacing the expensive rug like a madwoman when a soft knock came at the door.

Not again…

She tiptoed, peeked through the door crack, half expecting the press—or worse, Nico’s angry fiancée with a frying pan—but it was just a maid. Young, polite-looking, and carrying a silver tray.

“From Grandma,” the maid said with a sweet smile. “She said you’d need this to relax.”

Red hesitated. “Tea?”

The maid nodded. “Chamomile with a hint of lavender. Her favorite.”

Red stared at the steaming cup like it was a trap—and it probably was. But her nerves were shot. Her hands were still shaking. And honestly? Her throat was dry.

“Thank you,” she said, gently taking it, still cautious.

The maid gave a tiny bow, glanced over at Nico snoring like a lion on the bed, then gave Red a look. The one that said so… you’re the one who finally got him, before backing out and closing the door behind her.

Red sighed, sinking into the chair beside the bed.

The tea smelled amazing. She sniffed it again.

"Should I? Should I not? Am I really drinking tea in a billionaire’s room while his family thinks I’m his secret wife?”

She shook her head, still dazed.

“One sip,” she muttered, bringing it to her lips. “Just one.”

The warmth slid down her throat like a lullaby. And then… the world began to soften. Her limbs, her eyelids… her thoughts.

“Oh no…”

Her bag slipped again, but she didn’t move.

“I shouldn’t have helped this man,” she whispered sleepily, curling up near him on the bed.

Then everything faded to black.