CHAPTER FOUR
1927 Words
Riccardo stepped onto the black court, the ball bouncing sharply beneath his palm. The sun was dipping low, casting golden streaks across the sleek pavement.
Fabio was already there, perched lazily on a bench in his hoodie and basketball shorts, chewing gum like he was born to provoke someone.
His grin widened the moment he saw Riccardo’s face.
Fabio: “Whoa. Someone looks like they got rejected and robbed.”
Riccardo shot him a dry glare and dribbled past him.
Fabio: “Let me guess, Gabriele let you wear the wrong watch and you’ve been traumatized since?”
No answer.
Fabio leaning back,and smugly : “Or wait, let me guess again… someone scratched your baby.”
Riccardo paused mid-dribble. Fabio gasped dramatically.
Fabio: “No way. Someone actually had the guts to scratch the Maybach?”
Riccardo: “An i***t. And her sister.”
Fabio: “Two idiots? Tell me everything.”
Riccardo sighed and went for a clean three-pointer.
“This is the most emotion I’ve seen from you in weeks. Who are they? Mafia heirs? Secret rebels? t****k girls?”
Riccardo: “Just a pair of airheads who don’t know how to drive.”
Fabio grinning: “Airheads? Riccardo, you’re getting soft. Normally you’d say ‘reckless liabilities’ or ‘walking lawsuits’.”
Riccardo replied flatly “Gabriele’s getting their details. They’ll pay for the repairs.”
Fabio laughed out loud: “You’re so dramatic. Just forgive them. Maybe it was fate… A little chaos in your boring life.”
Riccardo shot another perfect three-pointer.
Riccardo: “The only fate I believe in is profit margin and silence.”
Fabio: “Yup. You’re definitely going to fall in love with one of them.”
Riccardo paused. “What?”
Fabio shrugged and smirked. “That’s how it starts, big bro. A scratch, a fight, a heated stare. Then boom, wedding in Tuscany.”
Riccardo stared at him for two seconds before walking past.
Riccardo: “You need therapy.”
Fabio: “And you need a girlfriend. Or better yet, a life.”
Riccardo tossed the ball at him without looking. Fabio caught it with a grin.
---
The small rectangular dining table was squeezed into the corner of the kitchen, Plates of steaming pasta, a bowl of fried plantain which Alessia requested specially, and a tray of garlic bread took up most of the space.
Donatella sat cross-legged on one of the mismatched chairs, picking at her food, while Alessia was sprawled across the other side, animated as ever.
Alessia: “I’m still saying it, Donnie. You and that guy? It’s giving 'future power couple' energy.”
Donatella: “I don’t even know him.”
Alessandro, with his mouth full: “But you will. I mean, he looked like one of those guys that own a yacht and seven problems.”
Donatella reply flatly: “Exactly why I’m not interested.”
Alessia grinning . “Says the girl who wears Valentino to the market.”
Donatella gave her the look.
The front gate creaked suddenly, and they all paused.
Donatella: “Did anyone order something?”
Alessandro: “Maybe the neighbors again. You know how the delivery guys mix things up.....”
But then there was a firm knock.
Donatella opened the front door slowly.
Standing right outside was a tall man in black, his expression unreadable. Neatly dressed, posture perfect. A briefcase in one hand.
Gabriele: “Miss Donatella Giorgio?”
Donatella: “...Yes?”
Gabriele: “I was sent on behalf of Mr. Riccardo Borgia.”
He handed over a sealed brown envelope.
Gabriele: “This is the bill for the repairs. Mr. Borgia hopes you’ll handle it quickly.”
---
Donatella slammed the door shut and marched straight to the table, waving the envelope like it was a court summons.
Donatella: “Do you people know how much this man charged me for a scratch? A scratch!”
Alessia trying not to laugh. “Is it more than the price of my new wig?”
Donatella throwing the envelope on the table. “It’s more than your entire wardrobe, Alessia. Who even charges this much for car paint? Is his car made of diamond?”
Alessandro peeking into the envelope. “Whew. That’s a number.”
Donatella: “I’m not paying this. No. I’m not rich. I’m not stupid. And I’m definitely not letting some moody billionaire extort me because of a tiny scratch caused by my overgrown baby sister!”
Alessia: “I love how you still called me a baby though. Adorable.”
Donatella ignoring her. “No. I’m taking it up with him. I’ll go to that ridiculous palace he lives in and give him a piece of my mind.”
Alessandro: “You know where he lives?”
Donatella storming off. “I will find out. And when I do, I will make sure he knows, I am not to be billed like this!”
Alessia grinning as she bites into bread. “And just like that, the love story begins.”
Hahaha, she laughed loudly.
---
The elegant gates of the Borgia residence slid open silently, revealing a tree-lined driveway and a modern villa that screamed power and old money.
Donatella stepped out of the cab like a woman on a mission, her heels clicking against the pavement, envelope clenched tightly in her manicured hand, and her jaw locked in determined fury. Harper’s contact had come through. She had the address.
Donatella talking to herself: “This man wants a war over a scratch? He picked the right girl.”
At that exact moment, the Maybach that caused all the problem turned in and glided to a stop not far from her. The passenger door swung open and Fabio Borgia stepped out first, sunglasses low on his nose, mischief practically written across his face.
Fabio noticing her. “Now who’s this little firestorm?”
Riccardo stepped out next, cool, unreadable, His eyes met Donatella’s.
No recognition. No change in expression. Just... cold curiosity.
Donatella marching forward: “Mr. Borgia, I assume?”
Fabio smirking. “You’ll have to be more specific, bella.”
Donatella holding up the envelope.“I came to return this masterpiece of daylight robbery you sent me.”
Riccardo calmly.“I sent a bill. Not an invitation.”
Donatella fuming.“Exactly! You billed me like I ran over your car and danced on its grave. It was a scratch!”
Fabio chuckled lowly, clearly enjoying the scene way too much.
Fabio: “I like her. She’s got fire.”
Donatella pointing at Riccardo. “You! should be ashamed of yourself. You don’t even know how to be reasonable. What kind of human being does this?”
Riccardo finally speaking with a cold tilt to his voice. “A human being who works hard for what he owns and doesn’t appreciate reckless teenagers ruining it.”
Donatella eyes narrowing
“I’m not a teenager. I’m a business student with a side hustle. And I plan on building something with my own sweat too. But I don’t rob people over a scratch.”
Fabio aside to Riccardo, whispering: “Can we keep her? She’s better than most of the guests we get.”
Riccardo ignored him, his gaze still fixed on Donatella.
Riccardo flatly said. “If you have a complaint, you can forward it to my lawyer.”
Donatella stood tall, her eyes locked with Riccardo’s. She wasn't backing down, not this time.
Donatella: “I told you. I don’t have the money for this. And I’m sure the garage you use is overpriced.”
Riccardo said with a slight smirk: “Then you’ll have to find a way to pay for it, won’t you?”
Donatella felt her temper flare. She had expected him to be difficult, but this was something else. She took a step forward, her tone sharper now.
Donatella: “I told you, I’m not paying that ridiculous amount. You can’t just send me a bill for a scratch and expect me to bend over backwards for it.”
Riccardo his expression turning serious. “You scratched my car. You pay for it. Simple.”
There was a moment of silence, the tension thick between them. Then, unexpectedly, Riccardo shifted slightly, a thought clearly striking him. He glanced briefly at Fabio, who had been silently observing the interaction, and then looked back at Donatella.
Riccardo pausing, as if surprised by his own words. “Fine. If you don’t have the money... You can work it off.”
Donatella’s brow furrowed in confusion.
Donatella in a skeptical voice. “Work it off? What does that mean?”
Riccardo straightened up, his expression hardening slightly.
“You’ll be my personal errand girl at school for the next two weeks. Running errands, handling a few of my business matters, maybe even organizing some things for me. Consider it... work for the scratch.” Riccardo said coldly.
Donatella eyes narrowing. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not some servant to do your bidding.”
Riccardo raising an eyebrow. “You’ll do what I say for two weeks. Or you can pay the bill in full, and we can be done here.”
The audacity of him. Donatella clenched her fists, feeling the anger bubble up again. But she couldn't deny that the offer was tempting. She was stubborn, yes, but she wasn’t about to let him walk away with her giving up.
The silence between them grew thicker, and Donatella felt her resolve wavering. She couldn’t afford the bill, and the thought of being stuck paying it off lingered heavily on her mind.
Donatella exhaling sharply, her tone hard. “Fine. Two weeks. But I swear, the minute it’s over, you better not think you own me.”
Riccardo smirked slightly, clearly pleased with himself.
Riccardo nodding. “Two weeks, then. Let’s see if you can keep up with me.”
Donatella, still fuming, turned on her heel and stormed off without another word.
Fabio watching her leave, chuckling. “Well, well. Looks like the games have officially started.”
Riccardo looking after Donatella, his smirk fading into something unreadable. “She has no idea what she’s in for.”
Fabio still watching her. “You really should’ve invited her in. Might make this castle less boring.”
Riccardo: “She’s trouble.”
Fabio: “Exactly.”
---
The room buzzed with focused energy as artists worked on their canvases, all competing for the top spot in the live painting contest. Each contestant knew the others, but there was one exception, the masked guy in the corner, whose identity was a mystery.
As the clock ticked down, Cardo’s painting stood out, a breathtaking piece that caught the attention of everyone in the room. His work, always signed with the name Cardo, was a staple of high-profile galleries, yet no one knew the face behind the art.
The competition wrapped up, and the judges announced, “The winner is… Cardo.”
The other artists exchanged glances, some in awe, others disappointed. But the masked man remained silent, emotionless.
Once the cameras were off, Riccardo removed his mask. The quiet, reserved billionaire artist grinned slightly, admiring his latest work.
Riccardo said quietly to himself. “Another victory.”
Gabriele entering the room. ‘‘Your schedule for tomorrow has mapped out sir.’’
Riccardo gave a small nod, his smile fading as he packed up his masterpiece. The world would continue to admire Cardo’s art, but Riccardo Borgia would remain a mystery.
- Writer
