Chapter 3 #2
For a heartbeat, the world shrinks to the space between our mouths. The blue flames grow more prominent. Sweat beads at my hairline, and my skin tingles from the nearness of his. My heart pounds with new force.
My voice comes out raw. "You have to stop making jokes about the rules."
He intensifies his gaze on me. "Who said I was joking?"
Our lips don't meet, but everything in me strains toward him. The heat in the fireplace bends as if it's alive, watching and waiting for God only knows what.
A loud metallic click shatters the moment. The front lock disengages with a heavy thud.
Brax's jaw tightens. He spins and steps in front of me, pushing me behind him.
I peek around him.
The door swings open, flooding the room with a rush of cool air and the silhouette of a man in all black, wearing a matching ski mask.
"Time's up," he says, his voice carrying the weight of the Underworld's authority.
Brax doesn't move.
Panic hits me. There's more to teach Brax and I don't want to be held accountable for not doing the job that was assigned to me. So I argue, "It hasn't been six hours."
The man's gaze flicks between us, then lingers on the scattered towels and the faint steam rising from the floor. "I don't make the decisions."
"Of course you don't," Brax sneers.
The man tosses a duffel bag on the floor. "The king is waiting for you."
"Me? Or Brax?" I question, with more anxiety brewing.
"Both of you. Get dressed." He grabs our clothes off the floor and puts them in a trash bag.
"What are you doing with my stuff?" Brax barks.
"Orders," he says, then disappears through the door.
Brax turns, annoyed. "Guess class is over."
I nod, saying, "For now," but wondering if I failed the test. I pick up the duffel bag and unzip it. I pull out two pairs of sandals, shorts, T-shirts, and zip-up hoodies. I hand the men's to Brax. I step into my shorts.
He slides into the sandals, drops the clothes, walks to the doorway, and steps into the foyer area. He holds his arms out and spreads his legs.
I stare at his ripped shoulders that V to his muscular ass and thighs, asking, "What are you doing?"
"Cooling off. Not sure how you can put those on right now."
I pull the T-shirt over my head, put on the flip-flops, grab his clothes and my hoodie, and walk over to him. I hold out his shorts. "The king is waiting. Get dressed."
"I need a minute."
My voice rises. "You don't get a minute. Let me teach you another lesson you should never forget. When the king is waiting, you drop everything and go."
He sarcastically taunts, "Why? Is he going to behead me?"
I stare at him, my chest tightening.
His eyes widen. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."
I wiggle his shorts in front of him. "Get dressed. Stop messing around."
He shakes his head and releases a frustrated breath. He slides into the shorts and pushes the elevator button.
"Aren't you going to put on your shirt?" I ask.
"Nope."
"Fine."
The metal opens, and more cool air hits me. We step into the elevator, but the burn beneath my skin doesn't fade. The ghost of his voice, lecturing about ancient promises and metal forged for pleasure, haunts me as we make our way through the lobby.
Outside, it's a cloudy morning. There's a harsh chill in the air, and the gusts of wind turn my sweat cold.
Vito stands outside my SUV. He sees me, opens the back door, then pins his scowl on Brax.
"Ma'am," he says as I slide inside next to a blanket.
"Morning, Vito," I reply, and grab the throw, smiling. Leave it to Kirill to know I'd be too hot to put on more clothes inside, but colder once I got out here.
Brax moves next to me, still shirtless. "You can't tell me you're putting that on?"
I unfold it and place it over my legs, then slide into the hoodie. I drag my eyes over his glistening pecs. "Put your shirt on."
"No. I'm still hot."
Vito growls, "Ms. Valentina said to put it on." He eyes Brax through the rearview mirror.
Brax grunts. "She's not my boss."
Vito spins, and Brax lunges forward, grabbing his throat.
"Brax!" I cry out.
Vito's face turns red. He gasps.
"Let him go!" I order, tugging on his arm.
Brax turns toward me. "No one is going to threaten me. Understand?"
"Let him go!" I demand again.
He stares Vito in the eyes for a few more seconds, then says, "I'm going to release you now. Don't ever try to come at me again." He releases him.
Vito chokes, sputtering for air.
"Jesus, Brax!" I scold.
"You should get a driver who can protect you," Brax states.
"He can," I seethe.
Brax sits back in the seat and puts his ankle over his knee. "He just put you in a compromising position if I wanted to hurt you."
I gape at him.
Is he right?
Brax directs, "Drive. The king is waiting for us."
Vito stares at him through the mirror.
Brax puts the divider glass up. "Seriously, Minx. You need a better driver if he's supposed to also be security."
The SUV veers onto the road.
"Put on your shirt so you don't disrespect the king," I order then stare at my hands, replaying what just happened.
The ride to Kirill's is quiet and short. The SUV pulls to the curb in front of the glass tower, black and gleaming against the gray morning.
Brax is already halfway out the door before Vito can get out. He glances up the building with a suspicious squint, making me believe he's cataloging every window, camera, and any possible way out.
I step beside him. "Don't stare too long. It makes them nervous."
He meets my eye. "Maybe they should be."
"Don't be stupid." I push past him. The sliding doors part, and warm air scented with polished wood and espresso wraps around me. Two men in suits straighten and nod.
"Ms. Abruzzo," the taller one says, pressing a hand to his earpiece.
The other motions for me to go ahead. "Mr. Petrov is expecting you."
"Of course he is," I mumble.
"Abruzzo?" Brax snarls.
I glance up at him. I had forgotten that outside the Underworld, my family is his family's enemy.
"Petrov?" he says with just as much disgust.
I curse myself for not warning him. The last thing I need is a scene in the lobby. The security may be Underworld members, but the rest of the building knows nothing about our secret reality. So I beg in a whisper, "Please don't make a scene. I'll explain later."
Brax stays planted.
"You look cold, Ms. Abruzzo. Can I get you a coffee?" Bruno at the front desk asks.
Brax glances at him then jeers, "You've got fans."
I smirk, "Jealous after only a few hours with me?"
He grunts.
I stride across the marble lobby, relieved when he follows me. I flash my hand at the security checkpoint, and the scanner flashes green. Another set of guards steps aside. Brax follows, his expression full of distrust, but I'm unsure if it's of the men being around me or for what's ahead.
The elevator is open when we reach it. I ask the guard, "Is this fixed yet, Jasper?"
"No, ma'am," he relays.
I roll my eyes and step inside. For the last few months, it's been slow. Kirill's been all over the building maintenance to get it fixed, but nothing has improved.
Inside, Brax leans against the mirrored wall, arms folded. "So you've been here before?"
"Too many times to count."
The doors shut, and the box moves at a snail's pace. "What's this Petrov's deal? Couldn't become Mafia royalty so he took on the role of corporate cult leader?"
"Enough of the cult talk," I reprimand. "And the king is smarter than anyone you've ever met. Don't test him."
He smirks. "I'll try to keep my mouth shut. No promises."
The elevator stops at every floor, even though no one is waiting to go up.
On the fourth floor, Brax rumbles a curse under his breath.
I taunt, "Don't get frustrated now. We only have a dozen more stops before we get to the penthouse."
His eyes grow wide. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Unfortunately, not."
Ten minutes later, the elevator dings softly, opening into the penthouse foyer.
"About fucking time," Brax mutters.
"Mind your manners," I remind him. Then I open the door and call out, "We're here."
Kirill stands by the wall of glass, his reflection stretching across the skyline. He turns and the knotted, diagonal scar across his face is just as brooding as always.
I barely notice it anymore but I'm always conscious of it whenever anyone new is in front of him.
He welcomes, "Valentina." He assesses Brax with a scowl.
I stop a few paces in and curtsey. "Your Majesty." I sneak a glance at Brax to make sure he's showing respect.
He wrinkles his face, then it hardens.
My gut flips. I want to slap him, but it's a typical reaction when anyone sees Kirill for the first time.
At least he tried to hide his reaction quickly.
I nudge him.
He pins his eyebrows together. "What?"
"Bow," I say through gritted teeth.
"Seriously?"
I glare at him, my heart racing so fast I think I might pass out.
Brax groans, then faces Kirill. He bows his head and says with an attitude, "Your Majesty."
"Relax," Kirill orders. Then his gaze and voice turn as cold as frost on water. "You made it through the trial."
Brax's jaw ticks. "If you call a sweat lodge and starvation a trial, sure."
Kirill's scowl intensifies. "You're here because you survived, not because you understood."
"He did," I insist, worried I'm going to be in trouble.
Kirill's voice softens. "You did your part, Valentina. However, it's clear the importance of the Underworld hasn't sunk in for Brax yet. That's why I've appointed you as his mentor."
He's going to fast-track Brax?
I glance up, confused. "Mentor?"
His gaze cuts to me. "Yes. You, Valentina. You'll oversee his training."
I argue, "That's not protocol. Mentorship is for lower levels. I've already—"
"The Omni has made its decision," he interjects.
My stomach drops. It's not the first time I've seen someone get fast-tracked into higher positions within the Underworld.
Sean made sense since he's the Chosen One.
But Brax? Why is he so special? And why is it only men I've seen get fast-tracked?
I've been working for years, and it's not fair.
So I insist, "He's not ready. He doesn't even—"
Kirill raises a hand, silencing me. "Then make him ready."
Brax laughs under his breath. "You've got the wrong guy. I'm not interested in joining your underground empire."
Kirill walks closer, the room shrinking with every step. "You misunderstand. This isn't an invitation."