My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 33 Old Enemies

GRANT POV

I managed to lure Nova out of her room without a flicker of suspicion. Of course I did. She’s nosy, predictable, and like any wise man worth his bullets, I kept that little detail hidden until I could make the most of it.

In the mafia you learn fast: keep your enemies close enough to smell their fear. That’s why, even after the board of directors practically salivated for Nova’s resignation, I defended her. I stood for her. Not out of loyalty—don’t insult me—but because pulling her closer lets me measure the length of her leash.

My gut tells me one of my own staff has been bleeding company secrets to outsiders. No proof yet, but the timeline doesn’t lie. Before Nova joined us, there were no leaks. Since then it’s a different story.

And her ties to the Ratels? Another rotting thread I’m pulling at. My private investigators return with nothing, she’s too neat, too clean.

Her background is sterilized like a hospital floor. No family except that washed-up godmother. No records, no pictures. Too perfect. Nobody is that spotless. Nobody. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

So, to confirm my suspicions, I had Ivin deliver a dress and an invitation for tonight’s event. A masquerade gala. Where better to bait a mole than a room full of masks? If she’s feeding someone intel, they’ll take the bait, and then I’ll judge as I see fit. Just as I judged Tyler.

Tyler...

I had my men beat him until his bones begged for mercy. Held him underwater until his lungs clawed for air, just to yank him back into pain. I won’t lie, I savored every second of it and when he was nothing but blood and broken cartilage, I tossed what was left to Ivin. By the time his body’s found under their school bridge, he’ll be another cold case, untraceable.

And yet, Nova stepped out tonight looking like sin dressed in silk, and for one fleeting second my breath caught. Pale skin against the blood-red gown and matching gloves, her mask gleaming under the lights. For that moment, she looked untouchable. Almost too good for this filth. Almost enough to make me forget she could be the one sent to ruin me.

Almost.

"How long till we get there?" she asked quietly.

Timid and careful; We haven’t spoken properly since she dared ask me why she couldn’t touch me.

None of my other women ever questioned my boundaries. They knew better. They were professionals — polished, experienced, and definitely temporary.

Nova is the youngest I’ve ever taken, the boldest, and yet the most reckless. When she asked to touch me, I almost said yes. Almost let her see me, really see me. But the last time I offered that kind of intimacy, it ended in funerals. Entire families buried. I won’t make that mistake again.

So I pushed her away. Hard.

After last night’s little show, where the girls had her moaning till she forgot her name, she had tried inching closer. Tried to play familiar but I shut her down. Now she sits across from me in silence, tugging at her gloves, smoothing her dress, a bundle of nerves. And I let her stew. Let her feel the distance.

The car rolled to a stop. Ivin opened my door, then moved to hers. I stopped him.

She doesn’t deserve the courtesy. Not until I know what she really is. For now, she’s a pretty prop.

The gala was what I expected: money dripping off chandeliers, champagne flowing like rivers of vanity. With Nova’s arm looped through mine—all for show, of course—I navigated the crowd. I dodged the leeches I’d rather shoot, faked a smirk for the ones worth using later. The night was playing into my hands.

Until someone had the audacity to breathe too close behind me.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

That voice. That smug, grating rasp that makes me want to put a bullet straight through his teeth.

"Rich words coming from a roach in a suit," I snapped without turning.

"Forgive the insult, Granny."

My fist twitched. Granny. The bastard knows I hate it. How the fuck do you twist Grant into Granny? My jaw clenched hard enough to crack, but a bloodbath here would ripple through every contact in this room. And he knows it.

Then his eyes slid to Nova.

"And who is this ray of sunshine beside the ever-grumpy Granny?"

He reached for her hand. Kissed it. Like a smug pig playing knight. And Nova, my Nova had the audacity to blush. To play coy.

Really? What happened to my good little girl, begging to call me Daddy, aching for my cock?

Far be it that I lose my cool over another man’s fake charm. But she is my date. I brought her here.

"I’m Nova," she said softly.

Was she supposed to answer him? Women. No loyalty. Never have, never will.

"Such a simple name for such a ravishing beauty," Luca purred, still holding her hand like it belonged to him.

And she let him.

"You see, cara mia, I’m Luca Vicenzo. I own the Ratel Hotel. The Ratel businesses. Empires, riches, and a taste for spoiling pretty little things like you." He smirked at me. "What do you say? One dance? I’m sure this ogre bores you to death."

"You forgot to add that you’re a mafia Don who kills pretty little things like her," I cut in, voice sharp enough to slit throats.

"Oh, don’t be grumpy, old friend," Luca crooned. "We all kill. Just like you killed her boyfriend. Tyson—or was it Tyler?"

Nova’s gasp sliced through me. She froze. White as marble under her mask.

"Luca," I growled low, just enough for him to hear, just enough to promise violence.

"What? You didn’t tell her, Granny? That you had her boy toy snatched by your dogs? That you bled him out just so you could keep her for yourself?"

Her arm slipped out of mine, weightless, but the absence punched through me like a gunshot.

"Grant... you said he left." Her voice shook, tears spilling at the edges of her mask.

I hate Luca for this. I hate the way he twists truth into knives. But I hate even more the way she looks at me now.

"He left, cara mia," Luca soothed, stretching out his hand. "But not to his house. Grant’s men dragged him away. Come with me, honey. You’re safer here."

And she went. She actually went. Hand slipping into his. Head leaning against his chest like she’s found shelter, while every second of it is just another way for him to spit in my face.

Snitch.

"It’s okay, cara mia," he whispered, stroking her hair like she was his. "I know what he did was cruel. But it’s not enough reason for Grant to waste him."

Then he smiled at me. That smug, victorious smile.

"How’s work, Granny? Hope your ventures are still afloat."

I pulled my phone out, my fingers twitching against the screen.

"What the fuck did you just do, Luca?"