Chapter 23
Nikolai
The statue in front of me does not make sense. This form of art does not appeal to me in the way it does for Anya. The tour guide finished speaking some time ago, and Anya has decided that she wants to spend the rest of the afternoon here. I cannot find it in me to be bothered by this choice. While I might not find interest in the art and statues, she lingers on each one. She seemsto be experiencing the emotions of both the statue”s subject and the artist at the same time. I could sit here and watch her all day. Her hairswept up in a pretty braid around the crown of her head, with the rest falling in ringlets and waves around her shoulders and neck. Her petite curves beckon to me in the dress I chose for her. If I do say so myself, the fitted olive green bodice and the loose taper of the skirts were a fantastic choice.
I want to touch her. I want to wrap her up in my arms. But I keep my hands pressed deeply into my pockets to keep from touching her. Every few steps, Anya paused to look over her shoulder to make sure that I’m still following her. I probably shouldn’t be. I should be distancing myself but I cannot seem to stay away. Since we have arrived in Rome, it is almost like we are in a world all our own. Untouchable. Being out in public with her is dangerous until I figure out exactly where her father is, and if he plans on making any moves, but I could not help myself. I have no holdings here, not officially, no properties or warehouses in my name so it will be difficult to link my presence here to anything other than leisure. This is done for the efforts of maintaining a small amount of anonymity while under the protections of my friend. Rome is more his territory than any other’s.
Besides, she looks so damned happy to be out of the house. She’s practically glowing. Asked a million and seven questions to the tour guide and apologized after nearly each one but he seemed just as happy to discuss everything with her as she was curious. Had I not been here, they would probably still be discussing brush strokes and how the sculptures had the magical ability to make marble statues somehow appear soft.
Anya has done nothing to betray my trust yet. She hasn’t asked me any additional probing questions, and she hasn’t gone snooping into things that I have expressly told her not to since Vegas. Despite how easy it would be to trust her, I can feel myself holding back. I allowed myself to trust a woman before, and I didn’t think anything was wrong—not until the very end.
With the confessions that we shared the other night, I have to alter my plans. Perhaps her father has noticed that she is missing, and decided that she is not worth the risk to him, or that he simply doesn’t care. I cannot believe that a man like Griffith would not have noticed.
Daniel would have picked up on any word looking for her, the man’s digital reach is impressive, and he’s been combing all the corners of the dark web for anything that he can about moves being made against me, or looking for Anya—and still nothing. Which means that she is mine, to keep or kill.
Yet… I don’t think that I can kill her.
No matter what happens with her father, even if he were to show up today, I do not think that I could do it. I couldn’t do it to myself, either. Even if that is the only way to get my revenge on him for all the things that he has done to me and my family—Anya is quickly becoming important to me.
Watching her absorb the beauty of everything around her—I think that my mother would have liked her. She would have admired her spirit, her appreciation for all things beautiful. I don’t think that the pair of them would have been able to have a single conversation that didn’t result in them screaming at each other at the top of their lungs, but that would only cause my mother to respect her more.
My father on the other hand, would probably give her a good solid once over, ask if she had good, strong teeth and then ask why she was not pregnant yet. The man never wasted time with anything.
I think the larger part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Anya to try to escape, to stab me in my sleep. Sleep— I haven”t been able to do thatfor two days because of nightmares ofAnya”s body lying in the snow, her body broken from being thrown over the balcony of my bedroom. I”m having nightmares about her meeting the same fate as Helena... But, strangely, even in my dreams, she has not betrayed me, and I am not the one who tripped her over the balcony.
Still, whenever I wake up, she is there, sleeping peacefully beside me. Ultimately, I just need answers. The choice of what to do with her is laid out in front of me, and I must make a choice—and soon. I turn the small box in my pocket over once, and then again. “I have something for you.”
Anya turns, distracted by whatever her thoughts on the statue were. “Hm?”
“I would like you to wear something, for me.”
She looks unamused, her mouth pulling into a fine line. “You already choose everything that I wear.”
“Yes, but something is yet missing.” I take the box from my pocket; inside is a golden bracelet engraved with my surname and a trio of small bloodstone rubies. It is a blatant mark of the claim that I want over her. It is a symbol of ownership and possession—it will markher as mine and provide her with the protections that come with that status. Even better, it can only be placed or removed with a key that I alone have. That, or she can always cut off her own hand.
I hold the box out to her, and she takes it. She toys it over in her hand, there is no mistaking that the contents are jewelry of some kind. She starts to open it, and then stops herself again, closing it so quickly that she nearly snaps it shut on her fingers.
“I have decided that I am Switzerland.” Anya spins toward me as we come up on the end of the gallery once more. “Before I open this box and fall in love with whatever it is that is inside of it, I need you to know that I am Switzerland.”
I raise my eyebrow in question to her.
“Whatever happens, your business with my father—whatever it is that he has done to you. I am Switzerland. Neutral. Uninvolved. A bystander.”
“Is that right?” I ask carefully.
“Mmhmm, that is correct.”
“And how did you come to that conclusion?”
Her expression softens, her bright eyes conflicted as she wraps her arms around herself. She shifts her weight onto one leg as she answers. “I can’t turn against my father. Even with everything that has happened.” She exhales slowly, like the confession is a burden being slowly lifted. “I don’t want you to kill him. I don’t want to be the reason that my father is hurt and I cannot stand by and allow it to happen, either, Nikolai.”
A muscle in my jaw tightens, and I swallow hard. Bile slowly starts to churn in my stomach. This is the other shoe dropping, I’m certain of it.
“That being said—I don’t want you to be harmed either. Things have changed between us, and I cannot deny that. I don’t think that you can deny it either.” She holds up her hand to silence me, as if she was expecting me to protest. “You don’t have to say it, but there is something here and I will choose to enjoy however much time that I have left with you as I can. I know that whatever he did—however he hurt you, in the world that we live, those things cannot go unpunished and I understand, but I ask that you leave me out of it. At least as much as you possibly can.
Maybe it’s for the best that I don’t know what he did, or why you had to go so far as to kidnap his only child. It’s probably worse than I can imagine. Selfishly, I wish you could let it go and we could move forward, but I also understand why you can’t. So… there. That’s my stance. It’s all out in the open now.”
She’s trembling. Anya is refusing to meet my eyes. I can see how tightly she”s hugging her arms to her body, worried about how I”ll react to her confession. I suppose it”s not surprising that she”s worried about my viewpoint. If it had been me, and I had been kidnapped to be used against my father, I would have most likely killed them. But Anya hasn”t tried to kill me yet. We are very different types of people. I exhale slowly, rubbing one hand against the back of my head, tossing the words around in my mind, trying to fully process them. When it comes to her father, she will not interfere with my business. She is saying that she is on neither side, and therefore can be loyal to neither until this is resolved.
“Look, I’m sorry. Nikolai,” My eyes lock onto hers, that is the first time that she’s said my name out loud. I like it. “I’m very confused as to what is going to happen next. I can’t deny that either. I know that you can’t make any promises and until your business is concluded, neither can I. But until then, if I can, I would like to attempt to enjoy the moment for the first time in my life. This war that you and my father have—this is your business, and I can’t be involved in it.” Her waterline swells, but she blinks the tears away.
“I…” I trail off, but I know that I cannot deny her this. I step toward her, and pluck the box from her hands, and open it for her. I gesture for her to give me her wrist, which she does. She is still as I unlock the bracelet and loop it around her wrist. She doesn’t pull away, but instead she watches me very carefully.
“I understand, sweetheart.” She nods, and I lock the bracelet into place. It’s done. We have reached the only understanding that we can have until whatever ultimately happens, happens.
Anya laughs, and it forces her tears further away. “Stop calling me that, we both know that I’m not sweet.”
My eyebrow lifts. Perhaps she might not be sweet as far as temperament goes, but she is certainly sweet in other ways. It takes her a moment to connect to my meaning, and her eyes go wide with shock and embarrassment. She slaps at my hand playfully.
“Stop it!”
I’m going to fall for her smile. I can feel it. Each time that she teases me with one, it’s chipping away at me from the inside. A small little hammer making small dents in my walls of ice, one tiny chip at a time. If I don’t find a way to stop it, soon she’s going to have a hole large enough to fit that tiny body of hers through—and then everything will be lost.
“No? You think that you are not sweet?” I tease with a mischievous glint in my eye. “Perhaps I shall find out for myself? I seem to remember that you are very sweet indeed. You remember how much I like sweets?” I take a slow, measured step toward her. She did say that she wanted to live in the moment, after all.
“Don’t you dare…” she takes a backward step away from me with her hand uplifted to me in warning. She glances around the space, as if somebody might catch us. We are all alone, I designed it this way on purpose. The tour is over, and I have rented out the entire space for hours yet to come.
“Is that a threat, sweetheart?” My chin lowers, my eyes darkening. And despite being all alone in this space, she still seems nervous. “Perhaps I shall taste you, dip my fingers in your nectar and have you sample the sweetness for yourself? I’ve had such a craving for it.”
Her pulse quickens, I can see it in the way her chest is rising and falling rapidly. Prey, a trembling little thing, should always be devoured. I”ve had her in every other way; this will seal the deal further. “Okay! Okay!” she giggles nervously, “Here?!”
I nod. “Here.” I place my hands on either side of her hips, and lift her up onto the statue in front of her. The marble carving supports her weight easily on the bent knee of the Greek man depicted there.
I push her leg up onto the pale, marble man”s outstretched arm, and her skirt rides up her thighs, exposing her to me. Her golden bracelet gleams in the light as she places her hand on my shoulder and I lower myself between her thighs and start devouring her.
On my tongue, she tastes like Ambrosia, and I savor every drop until she”s panting for more. I wrap my tongue around her core, inserting two fingers inside her just the way she likes, stretching her walls for me. I want to keep her here, in the middle of the gallery, until she”s painted white, like the most beautiful work of art they”ve ever hosted.
I will not be satisfied until I have.