Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
PRESENT DAY
My eyes bolted open at the sound of my bedroom door softly closing.
Screaming and begging echoed through my mind, the wisps of a dream...or maybe a memory…
Heart pounding, I took in my surroundings.
Walls painted sage green and sago palm trees created a calming effect, with the gentle breeze of a fan overhead. Even though the room was dark, the clock told me the day was only beginning.
I was in Knight's room. Safe.
Funny how a word, a feeling, changed with circumstance.
In my past five years in Vegas, I never would've thought that I would feel safe with Knight again.
And yet…I’d called him when Antonio and Carlos released me, dumping me in the middle of the strip. Not Rook.
The sound of a soft snore drew my attention to the end of my bed, where my nurse, Phee, had fallen asleep watching over me.
Safe .
The word once again came to my mind, echoing like a haunting, flickering dream.
I shouldn't get used to this feeling: like being wrapped in a big, soft, pink blanket, full of sweet memories and dreams, like over-sugary candy.
I sat up, filling my lungs with crushed lavender, the smell like the peaceful sanctuary of a cherished nun.
I stilled when I saw my phone, plugged in and charged, my keys next to it. The blinking light on my phone—notifications demanding my attention.
I turned away from them, silently padding over to the window, my fingers parting the darkness to reveal an orange sky.
A new day.
It felt hopeful.
I immediately crushed the sensation, unwilling to allow something so deadly to enter my heart.
There was no hope for me, only after pain and death would I feel some kind of redemption.
I closed the curtains, the edge of my teeth grazing over the freckle on my upper lip, trying to decide what to do next.
I should leave this place. Knight was here. He’d taken care of me, so gently and carefully, as my world fell apart. Held me when I vomited, shook and sweated, cried and screamed. Then, when I’d had enough, when I could barely move and begged him to just fucking kill me already , he’d called in someone to take away my pain.
And now, I felt fine. Peaceful. Safe .
Sure, the temptation of heroin was at the back of my mind, it always would be, but any remaining drugs had been flushed from my system.
All because of Knight.
It was pulling me under like a new kind of drug. This care and love and attention , sucking me back into the past where I once trusted and loved and believed .
I glanced over the room, noting the closet door where surely I'd find clothes purchased specifically for me. Knight was nothing if not efficient and generous…with his money, at least.
Making a decision, I went to the closet, pulling off the oversized shirt and sweats, replacing it with a clean crop top and leggings and socks. I took the tennis shoes in my perfect size, waiting to put them on until after I was outside. Then I grabbed one of the extra blankets, a soft, purple cashmere and placed it over Phee, making sure to tuck it into the sides so it wouldn't fall off.
I stepped back, noting the awkward angle her head was at, the tight bun that had fallen loose, the drool trickling at the edges of her mouth.
I gently, painstakingly slow so she wouldn't wake, pulled the tie from her hair, then pushed a small pillow under her head. At this, she murmured, then turned to curl into the side of the large, overstuffed chair.
As soon as I was certain she would be fine, I grabbed my keys and phone, then stepped silently down the hallway, curiously poking my nose in the doors of every room in this hallway.
Most of them were bedrooms, except for one door which was locked.
I stopped short outside a doorway that was slightly ajar, hearing the sound of water hitting tile.
My heart picked up, pitter-pattering like a kitten finding some catnip; it must be Knight's room.
The water turned off and, after a moment, he entered the room, rummaging through his drawers. Then the sound of a body hitting the mattress.
I didn't move, torn between my desire to leave, the ever present rage inside me to kill him, or the need to touch him. My attraction to Knight was an addiction on a whole other level. I couldn’t force my legs to move, to leave this house, and yet, I couldn’t outright face him either.
And so, I peeked in, taking in the beautiful room. Dark grey and black hues filled the space: the carpet and curtains and painted walls, and the cashmere blankets on the bed. Another photo of a girl overlooked his brown, leather headboard. Her long, white dress blowing in the wind. A hand to her face, hiding her expression. White and brown speckled sand with a raging sea in the background.
Just enough light filled the room to reveal his sleeping form.
I watched his dark eyelashes flutter, hiding the secrets contained in creek-brown eyes. The sun lit up the copper in his hair like a crown of fire and bathed his face, stunning enough that Michelangelo himself could've carved it.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt, revealing the corded muscles of his shoulders and arms, one of them slung across his pillow.
I stared for a long time, forcing down the punishing pull to go to him, but stayed, frozen in time and place, fighting my mind over my will.
Then, just as I'd convinced myself that he wasn't trustworthy, that he would never open his heart to me, not really, and that all this was just a childish dream, drug up from the annals of my personal history, he spoke.
“Tatiana. Come here."
I froze, my body halfway twisted to walk away from this temptation, wrapped in sin and lust.
I slanted my eyes back towards him, unsure if I'd heard him right. He still appeared asleep.
"Tati," his voice now was soft and weary. “Please.”
Please . A word not often heard from his mouth. I hesitated at the line between hardwood floor and carpet, my fingers gripping the doorway, uncertain and unsure.
It felt monumental, this step, but I straightened my back and held my head high: I wasn’t afraid of Knight.
He'd already done his worst; he could never hurt me any more than he’d already had.
Leaving the phone, shoes, and keys outside the door, I stepped into plush carpet, feeling the weight of a thousand female warriors on my shoulders.
I was coming to him but that didn't mean I was opening myself up to him.
If he was tired, he might tell me something that I could use against him. Or maybe he'd be too tired to fight me off, and I could blow his head apart with his own gun, which I was sure was tucked somewhere in his bed. If there was no gun, a pillow would do.
That's why I was sliding under soft, cashmere blankets and in between sage, sateen sheets, allowing him to throw an arm around my neck and bury his face in the crook of it. Not because my heart was pounding, my skin prickling with anticipation, or because my chest was awash with a warmth that only could be produced when he was near.
He inhaled a deep breath, nuzzling against my skin with his nose. "Mmm," he murmured, the dark rumble of his tired voice skimming over my skin like electricity. "You smell good."
I exhaled in surprise and a scoff. "I haven't showered."
A shoulder moved. "Doesn’t matter. You always smelled like home to me."
I hated the warmth suffocating my chest. How it washed through my whole body, making my fingers and toes tingle with contentment.
Home .
Funny, that's how I'd always felt with him as a kid. Not with my parents, at our own house, but always, always , with him.
Where I'd been safe. Protected.
Until I wasn't.
His fingers trickled over my collar. "Where's your necklace? Did you take it off?" I hated that I cared about the pain lanced in his voice.
I shook my head, staring up at the ceiling because I couldn't dare look into his beautiful, sleepy face. "They took it, when they took me."
He didn’t answer and, after a moment, there was soft breathing on my neck. Then, just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, “Who took you, Tatiana?"
I was torn between revealing the truth. I shouldn't have had any allegiance to Antonio but I couldn’t help but feel somewhat protective over him. He'd only been acting on his boss' orders, plus he had protected me from the other men. I had no illusions about how much worse it could've been back there.
Besides, vengeance was mine to dole out.
I was going to track that motherfucker down and force him to tell me who'd ordered that, or Antonio would lose his dick.
"Just someone who shouldn't have."
Knight didn't press for more information but softly traced over my collar and I grabbed his wrist, my fingers moving over the tip of one of his amputated fingers, something I’d always wanted to do since he returned from Russia, where he’d been held prisoner. “Does it ever hurt?”
He paused, thinking, then softly, “Sometimes.”
I kissed it. “I’m sorry this happened.”
“I’m not. Trying to keep Rose safe was worth it.”
Rose was the new mafia boss’ wife, and Knight had gone after her when she’d been kidnapped. He’d gone, knowing it could mean certain death for him. Yet, he’d done it anyway.
Because that was the kind of man Knight was.
I clasped his hand to my chest, my fingers still tracing over his, trying to contain the whirling, oppressive emotions inside me.
This was the man I’d fallen in love with, so many years ago. The man who cared about others, who put his life at risk for those he loved.
The man who killed because they’d hurt me.
He thought he’d hidden it from me, but I knew the truth. I always did.
"Did you ever think, as kids, that we would end up like this?" I asked him.
"Like what?"
"Enemies. Each of us digging to find the other's weakness so we can figure out how to make the other suffer the most."
He was silent for so long, I thought he might not answer me, and the stillness of the room made me hold my breath. If I could count to a thousand, maybe I could make myself so lightheaded I wouldn't care what Knight thought of me.
"I always imagined I would follow you to the ends of the earth," he finally said.
“You didn't even try."
His throat bobbed, brushing against my shoulder. "I thought it was better for you."
I didn't answer, because I wanted to scream and shout and cry, scratch and pound into his chest with my fists.
“It was never better for me," I finally choked out, trying not to show him how his words affected me, holding back everything I wanted to tell him.
About how my life had gotten so much worse.
The loss I felt when I realized he wasn't returning for me.
The empty hallowed out feeling in my chest, and anticipation of his call or email or message.
How every night I'd go to sleep, imagining I would wake up and he would be sitting on my bed, staring at me with those mischievous eyes.
The disappointment of waking up every day, the bed empty and cold.
Then, the new transition in my life, changing from hell to fucking torture. He hadn’t saved me when I needed it the most.
I’d always been a burden on Knight.
Growing up, I had no money, no friends. My parents were terrible.
I’d relied on him so much.
He brought the sun with him everywhere he went, and I was just the kid he felt sorry for. He’d felt so bad for me, he’d even proposed, even though he clearly hadn’t meant it—as he ran away as far and as fast as possible.
What if this was all it was?
I’d come to him at my weakest, and he was taking care of me again. God, I was an idiot.
My throat was full, my chest suffocating, my cheeks burning with shame. “Do you—are you…” I hesitated. “Is it okay that I called you? The other day, I mean, when I—when I was lost and confused. And you?—“
“Tati, stop. Of course, I want you to call me.”
“It’s just that.” I paused, unable to force the words from my lips.
“That what?”
A moment of courage… “I’m afraid…” before it petered out.
“Afraid of what?”
My throat was full, my heart flittering like a trapped bird in my chest. So terrified that he would look down on me. That he would lose all respect for me if I said the words out loud.
“Tati. Tell me.”
His voice was so soft, so gentle, so sweet and genuine. And I wanted to tell him, I wanted to confess it, the words at the tip of my tongue, even though I was simultaneously afraid that once the words left my mouth, I could never take them back, and then I would be naked and vulnerable in front of him.
Forever.
“Baby.” His finger traced my throat. Lovingly. Tenderly. He could be so sweet. “I want to hear what you’re feeling. You can trust me.”
I was terrified. The words rushed out anyway. “That I’m a burden to you.”
I said it. Said it and immediately regretted it because now it was out there and he knew it. I was a burden. But I couldn’t stop the rest of the confession slipping through my lips. “That I’ll always be a burden. I’ll never be strong enough. I’ll always be weaker than you. And I… I don’t know if I can handle that.” I swallowed the knot in my dry throat. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for you.”
“Tatiana.” He frowned, his expression so serious. “Do you really have no idea?”
I shook my head, my voice thick. “What?”
“You were never a burden to me. Not only was I always happy to see you, but you were everything to me. I went to Cuba to see you .”
I glanced away, my teeth grazing over my freckle, uncertain.
Knight had everything in this world, what was I to him? He couldn’t really mean it. “Don’t pity me. I can handle it.”
He laughed and my jaw dropped in horror.
He shook his head. “I don’t know anyone alive who pities Tatiana Krapivnik. Certainly not me.”
“Right.”
“I’m not lying. I never felt that you were a burden. I always wanted to see you. More than you will ever know. You are everything to me, Tatiana. You are not a burden. You are strong, despite everything that’s happened in your life. Not only in your past, but everything now. Literally in the past few days, you were just forced heroin. And yet, look at what you just did. You went through a withdrawal that was hell and survived . You are incredibly brave and strong.”
Was it true? I was afraid of being a burden, but more afraid to feel hope.
"Tell me," I said, my voice a soft croak, "do you remember the exact moment you stopped loving me?"
My heart pounded, dread pouring through me, spreading like a dark cloud through my body. I wanted to know the answer but, at the same time, I didn't want to face it.
To know how it came to be that the man who'd always loved and protected me, even more than my own parents, decided I wasn't worth it anymore.
And then, my breath hitched as his hand tightened, fingers wrapping around my neck. He moved, pulling himself upwards and over me so that his face was over mine, his nose touching mine.
There was a darkness in his eyes that I'd rarely seen before, and his gaze was laser focused in on me.
“You think I don’t want you? That I don’t think about you every day?” He shook his head. “I never stopped loving you. Every day, I think about you, and every day, the very thought of you breathes life into me. No matter what I'm doing, where I am, or how I'm feeling, even if I'm asleep, my heart pounds for you. My lungs breathe you in and out of me. My eyes see nothing but you. My blood carries your name in and out of my heart. You are everything to me, and don't ever forget that. I will never not love you, Tatiana.” His fingers dug deeper into my throat, his eyes growing more fierce. "You own every part of me, you understand, Polva?”
Did he really mean it? Or was this just some game he was playing?
He’d made a promise to me once before, and I'd believed him. Every single word uttered from his mouth was like a prayer to my ears. It had sucked me in, so blissfully unaware that I’d been consumed by the force of his gravity, a humble star being swallowed by the raging power of a black hole.
"I mean it.” If possible, the ferocity in his gaze grew even more intense and a knot formed in my throat. I'd never seen his gaze so intense, so real and raw, the formidable energy of that black hole coming alive before me. A darkness pulling and tugging me closer.
I wanted to believe it, to swallow down his lies and choke on them. To allow them to spread across my chest and seep under my skin, poisoning my veins until they entered the dull thud, thud, thudding of my pounding heart.
“That day, the day you parents died.” He hesitated, his throat bobbing on a swallow. He glanced away, staring out the window for a brief moment, pain slashing his features. When he turned back to me, the motion was slow and practiced, as if forcing himself to do it. “The day I killed your parents.” His words cut like glass as a memory rushed me. A silent house. A black leather bag full of American dollars. A red ribbon on the dresser. “I’d made a promise to you to keep them safe and I couldn’t look you in the eyes after breaking that promise.” His voice cracked. “That’s the real reason I didn’t wake you. I was a coward. Watching everything that happened to you made me feel helpless. My love for you made me vulnerable, and I was afraid of that more than anything. And so, even though I ran away to keep you safe, I also did it hide my weakness for you. I couldn’t help it; it’s in my DNA, in the way I was taught since birth. Stay safe at all costs. And that was the biggest mistake of my life. I will never stop regretting it. But I never saw you as weak, and I never, ever , stopped loving you.”
And just like that, I was sucked in again, pulled into Knight’s atmosphere, the gravity of my need for him too powerful.
I dragged in a hitching breath. “Okay.”
“You believe me?” he asked.
“Yes,” I breathed, "I believe you."
He studied my eyes, his gaze tracing between them and through them like he could see straight into the heart of my soul.
What he saw must've satisfied him, because, after a long moment, he leaned down, his lips touching mine and I stilled. Not in a kiss. He didn’t kiss me, but gently brushed my lips with his once before pulling back. “Okay.”
Then, sighing, he closed his eyes, falling back to the bed, and snuggled back into me.
His fingers were still on my neck, stroking my skin, caressing it with tenderness and care.
We stayed like that for a long time, with his eyes closed, his caresses soft and sweet, while I stared wordlessly at the ceiling.
My heart was still pounding, my mind racing. Despite my best efforts, I stayed there for minutes, hours? I wasn't sure how long, listening to his soft breathing against my neck, even after he fell asleep.
I couldn't make myself move. I was trapped in that soft, comfortable bed, unable to wrench myself from the pull of him.
I'd fallen in, lost once again in the lure of my savior and protector.
I closed my eyes, the sound of his breathing lulling me back into the space where dreams lived. Maybe I would awake and I'd still be with Antonio, this space only a dreamy figment of my imagination that seemed to come with the peaceful lull of heroin.
Then the sound of a beep made my eyes jolt open. I turned my head, careful not to move too much and wake Knight.
It was his phone, plugged in, on his wooden, hand-carved nightstand, a message flashing on it. I stretched, barely able to grab it before the message disappeared.
It doesn’t matter! I want to see you.
I quickly scanned the top to find the contact, and suddenly the black hole opened up and swallowed me whole.
my heart
The name of the contact.
I'd only seen a flash of it before the message disappeared.
I tapped the screen but it asked for a finger print. I considered opening it with his finger but the fear of waking him kept me from it. Besides, it would probably ask for a passcode even after his fingerprint.
Made men were paranoid like that.
I tossed the phone back and stared back up at the ceiling, the walls around my own heart quickly building back up again.
God, I was so stupid.
I'd done it again, fallen under his spell.
Like a fucking idiot.
Setting my lips in a firm line, I found the energy I needed. I slid out from under his arm, slowly and silently. Without looking back, afraid my heart would break if I did, I left his room, softly closing the door behind me.
I knew what I had to do now.