The engine died in the parking lot and then she stepped out.
What was the best way to reduce stress? Spending money, money, and more money. Chiara thought inwardly.
Her heart jumped as she looked at the credit card her stepfather had given her years ago, which was inside her purse.
Mind you, the money that she spent from the same card was also her blood, sweat and tears. She helped build his empire even if he'll never acknowledge that.
Whoever said money didn't bring you happiness, for the love of God, she would like to send them her account number so they could wire it all to her.
Chiara brought happiness with dollars, always did, and always worked just fine. It rocked her world.
The elevator dinged, and the door slid open. She strutted out, swaying from side to side in her white fitted suit while her YSL heels dominated the floor.
She ran her fingers through her wild hair. Wolf-cut, unfortunately, did it for her these days. "Where should I begin? Hmm, let's see…" A grin split her lips.
The mall was damn huge. Several boutiques awaited with several goodies, and she loved it so much because it gave her a variety to pick from.
Dresses, heels, bags, makeup kits, jewelry, more heels. Well, the more boutiques, the more fun.
Welcome, Madam," the shop assistant said with a professional smile. "How may I help you?"
Chiara sat her ass on the couch, took off her dark shades and placed them on the table, alongside her purse. Excitement rising deep from within. "Get me your best, latest, and most expensive dresses. Make it quick." She leaned back, snapping her fingers.
"Yes. Right away, Madam." Her eyes must've done that cold stare thing, as Yusuf used to say, to make the lady look shocked before she went away.
Ugh. She sighed. Apparently her face had subtitles. Something so out of her control.
A few minutes later, she was in a jewelry store. Trying their so-called best designs, but she couldn't find anything that moved her. Only disappointments.
"Stand straight, you two! And you bring the other designs out, now. What are you waiting for?" The jewelry designer barked at his shop assistants. "Yes, sir!" They all chorused.
Disrespect was everywhere. Why couldn't people just respect their workers? They couldn't do anything on their own but would run their mouths at a single mistake. A bunch of stupid people in the name of bosses. Chiara thought bitterly.
"Is this all, or are there any other designs?" She turned to the man. His eyes widened as though he couldn't believe what he just heard.
You heard right, Mr. Big Mouth. Chiara thought to herself.
"Madam, these are elite and latest designs. Look at this one. This piece is unique and extraordinary—"
The man kept rambling. She sighed and raised her hand and then placed the name extraordinary piece back in its box.
In her opinion, nothing was extraordinary in the store. And if she heard that word one more time, she was going to lose it.
She followed one simple rule: don't tell her what's good, show her.
"You know, the energy you put when talking to a customer or your assistant, you should spend the same energy when crafting your pieces. These are absolutely mediocre." She pointed at every jewelry spread on the table before them.
The assistants gasped while the man's smile slipped and appeared forced. Oh, did I hit a never? Thought Chiara.
"I've seen the same design in about five stores and wore it last fall. So tell me, what's so unique about them in your opinion now?"
People needed to up their games. And only then could they outshine everybody else in the same line of business. Chiara gets it, humans were prideful, her included. But pride was a bitch, show her your uniqueness instead.
"Do we have a problem?" A crisp voice came behind her, making her grimace. Who would actually dare? She thought.
Chiara turned on her heels, and a scowl settled on her face promptly. "Looks like we do now," she said. This was the last person she'd wish to meet after a long hour of being irritated. But whatever drama he came with was welcomed.
"Let me guess. You caused it?" The man accused as he strode into the boutique. A group of men in suits waited for him outside.
Annoyance tasted so bitter in her mouth. "Why? Are you jealous?" She remarked, feeling words rising in her mouth. Talk about family rivalry bullshit that she wanted no part in.
"Of you? How unwise?" The man shook his head. "Then are your legs glued here?" Chara sneered.
Ignoring her, the man turned to the designer, and the man designer told him everything as if she was scared of any of them. "I have the right to express my opinions as a customer," She uttered.
"Yes. But you have no right to criticize someone like that. Why don't you sit and design what you're oh so desperately looking for, and maybe, this wouldn't have happened." He said, his hands buried deep in his pockets.
She swore to God, he carried that air of nonchalance whenever she saw him.
This rotten bastard in a neat, polished suit. "If I designed what I wanted, what's the point of his existence? And who are you again? Are you the salesperson here?" She crossed her hands over her chaste and cocked her head.
The two had a staring duel.
The man stepped forward with pitched eyebrows. His eyes were a definition of a black abyss. "No. I am the owner here. And you will talk respectively to my tenant, or I'll have you escorted out." A chuckle escaped her at his words.
The man thought his height of a rusty street light pole was going to diminish her. Her 5'8 would never. She raised her hands, wiggling her fingers. "Ooh, I'm so terrified." His eyes darkened.
"How about you change your profession, Conti? Since you like speaking for everybody's rights so much, huh?" She took a step as well, crowding his space and glancing at him with a smile dancing on her lips.
Chiara loved a challenging man. They were just so stupid in her humble opinion.
He sighed heavily, looking down at her with a glassy stare and his lips pressed into a thin line. "You." He uttered, a strand of his brown hair fell on his forehead.
"Me?" She raised a brow. There was only an inch between us and none of them seemed to give a fuck about it.
She watched as his jaws ticked and cords popped on his forehead. And she wasn't even exaggerating. "Look here, Marino," his tone sharpened. "Don't forget you are in my territory."
Hah! Chiara threw her head back, laughing. She couldn't believe that the man was using a power card on her.
She looked him up and down once her laughter died down. "And so what?" Her face was void of any emotions, "Am I supposed to pee my pants with that piece of information?"
She tucked her hair behind her ear, "I shop at whatever place I want to. And do you truly think I didn't know that already before I came here?" She took another step, forcing him to move back.
The man shot her a deadly glare. A deep frown decorated his forehead. This all was getting irritably boring to her. And if he was doing all of this because of the stupid history between their families, then he missed her.
"Stop being a killjoy, Mr. Territory owner. And make sure you hire a new jewelry tenant in your mall. This one right here sucks." Chiara pointed at the stunned designer. She then grabbed her bags from the table and sauntered out of the boutique.
But that was only after winking at his reddening face. It was the first time she'd seen his control slip.
She shoved the bags in the trunk and slammed it shut, blowing hair out of her face. "Unbelievable!" She groaned.
Her precious shopping adventure was cut short because of some fucking asshole. Caremlo Conti, type of asshole. She sat in the car and drove home.
Her fist honked continuously, and soon the big black gates glided to the side. "Welcome back, Ma'am," said the gatekeeper, holding his rifle closer to his toned chest.
One of these days, Luca might want to change these guards as well. They looked like some big babies in a hero squad, in diapers with zero intimidation. Chiara shuddered at the image.
She raced through. Several cars came to view as she pulled up at the circular driveway, with a garden at the center.
She rolled down the window, squinting, but all she got were armed men in black staring right back at her. She stepped out of the car.
A guard came to take it to the garage after grabbing her shopping bags.
Her eyebrows drew together. Antonio never invited any of his people to his home. All of his dirty Mafia businesses were handled at the HQ.
Nobody came here because he cared so much about his reputation. Chiara was the black sheep of the family. And he was afraid of people finding out that she wasn't his biological daughter, as he claimed her to be among his circles.
To the world, they were one happy family.
So, who the hell was here? And what the hell was Antonio up to? Thought Chiara.