Chapter 30 Slava
SLAVA
I stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse living room, watching the final remnant of the day disappear in a bloody red streak across the sky.
I press my forehead against the cool glass but it does nothing to stop me from thinking about her.
Fuck.
How the hell did everything get so fucking complicated so quickly?
I open my eyes and stare at my reflection in the glass. The man looking back at me is a stranger wearing my face. And as lights start winking into existence across New York, Don Leo’s words echo in my skull like a curse: You’re making the same mistake you made in the past.
The old bastard was right. I can see it now, laid out before me like a map of my own destruction. I’m walking down that same path as I did all those years ago. I’m letting someone in. I’m allowing myself to feel.
I’m about to open a door I welded shut for a good fucking reason.
And now, standing in the dying light of another day I don’t deserve, I can finally admit what I’ve been fighting for weeks.
I’m falling for Bella.
Not in the gentle, gradual way normal people fall, but in an utterly crushing collapse that becomes impossible to stop once the first crack appears. She’s slipped under my skin like a splinter I can’t remove, and every time I try to dig her out, all I do is push her deeper.
I should send her away. Fire her. Make up some excuse and let her know that this part of our game has ended. It’ll keep me safe, and it’ll keep her alive.
But I don’t want to.
Lucky for me, my phone rings at this exact moment to interrupt my spiraling thoughts.
I check the caller ID, and ice floods my veins. There’s only one reason I’d be getting this call.
“What happened?” I answer without preamble.
The voice on the other end is tight. “There’s been a security breach.”
“Is he—”
“He’s safe. No injuries, no direct contact.”
My hand around the phone relaxes somewhat at the news. “Any idea who did it?”
“We’re still working on that. But suffice to say, we need you here in France immediately.”
“I’m on my way. Expect me there in about nine hours.”
“Very good. See you soon, Mr. Romanov.”
The line goes dead. Rage comes to life in my veins. I want to destroy something. I need to go now, before things get even more complicated.
I glance back at my bedroom door where she is, and I know that I can’t just leave her here. I’ve almost lost too many things today, her included. I can’t risk losing her now.
Looks like the universe is intent on forcing my hand.
You’re making the same mistake you made in the past, Don Leo warns in my ear.
Maybe, you bastard. Maybe I’m doing exactly that. But I won’t let this end the way it did last time.
I won’t let Bella die because of me.
I straighten my shoulders, pocket my phone, and walk back into my bedroom just as Bella emerges from the bathroom.
She’s wearing nothing but a towel around her chest, and my mouth goes dry staring at her. Her dark hair is still damp. It curls around her shoulders, and her hand immediately goes to the necklace at her throat when she sees me. Her cheeks are flushed. Her chest rises and falls with each breath.
And those innocent brown eyes are still swimming with the same unbridled fire I stoked inside of her earlier.
I hate that I’m about to dampen that heat, but I have to.
“We need to go to France,” I say before I can let my own desires overwhelm me.
She blinks. “What?”
“Something came up.” I keep my voice flat even as my heart races a mile a minute. “And I don’t trust that you’ll be safe while I’m gone.”
Trust. The word feels foreign in my mouth. Dangerous.
Bella’s eyes narrow. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you on the plane.”
“Why not now?”
“I will explain everything. But we need to go now.”
She studies me for a long moment, and I can see the calculations happening behind her eyes. Just as I predicted, the heat dials down just a notch in her eyes. She blinks, and slowly, her face rearranges into a semblance of professionalism.
Her teeth graze her lower lip, and I feel blood rushing to my cock.
“I don’t have anything appropriate to wear,” she says.
My eyes dart towards the walk-in closet that has stayed locked for six years. She notices the quick movement of my eyes, and she looks over her shoulder at it.
“Do you always have women’s clothes lying around your penthouse?” she asks quietly.
My jaw clenches.
A few weeks ago, this question might’ve been innocent and practically playful. But right now, nothing can mistake the hurt in her voice.
God, how do I even begin to explain this to her?
“Here.”
I retrieve a small silver key from my night stand, and walk past Bella until I’m standing in front of the locked closet. But my hand hovers over the handle.
I know that once I open this door, she’ll have a million new questions for me that I won’t be able to answer. And once I show her the ghosts inside, I’ll never be able to put them back.
But we need to get to France as soon as possible, and there’s no time to go shopping for new clothes.
Bella’s hand touches my arm, and her voice is soft as she asks, “Slava?”
She’s close enough that I can smell my soap on her skin.
“Give me a moment.”
I take one long trembling breath after another.
Then I unlock the closet and push open the door.