14. Nikolai
NIKOLAI
“ S he hasn't eaten at all today,” Agata informs me.
“And has the TV been set up for her?”
“Yes, though she hasn’t turned it on. She's just been lying in bed.”
For the love of God. I'm so sick of this sulking shit and my inability to change it. I stand from behind my desk and adjust my shirt.
“Thank you, Agata. I’ll deal with her myself.”
She ignores my unspoken dismissal, giving me a look I can’t read.
“Nikolai, I've known you for a long time,” she says cautiously. “Are you perhaps growing attached to the young American?”
She immediately diverts her gaze at the lethal look I give her.
“I don’t become attached to anything, Agata.
You, of all people, should know that,” I say dismissively as I walk past her and leave the room.
Attached? No. But it is my job to make sure she survives this.
I just didn’t think the biggest concern of safety would be herself.
Progress was made last night. The Armanis finally made a move. I don’t know who, specifically, almost succeeded in tracking my phone, but I was surprised that I cut the call, disconnecting their lead. In that moment I panicked at the thought of her being taken away, and I acted selfishly.
I don’t think too deeply into the change of heart. I know myself better than that. In Sienna Falcone, I’ve found new prey I can toy with, and I’m not yet done with her. At least that’s what I tell myself.
Last night, I let her get too close, told her too much.
The one thing I can’t stand is pity. I don’t deserve such a thing.
And I will no longer give it to her either.
I sabotaged both of us last night, erecting a roadblock to the progress of her returning home sooner and my ability to get closer to Luca Armani and Dmitri Volkov.
I walk down the main hall, slowing to listen in on two men speaking in one of the sitting rooms. “You should’ve seen her curves in that dress last night.”
“It's bullshit that Udav isn’t sharing her. Does he think that just because he’s in charge , he can have all the fun? I’m so sick of this patrol duty bullshit. We’re sitting ducks here if the Armanis ambush us.”
“Yeah, but we’re as good as dead if we try to get out of it. What can we do? It’s the boss’s orders. ”
“I'd still like to have my time with that American pussy. It won't be very tight once I'm done with it.”
Andrei stalks into the room before I can even get to the door, and I hear him bark, “Has the wilderness rattled your brains into pecans? You dipshits better be more cautious about what you say. These are direct orders from the boss, and you are not to question him or anyone he puts in charge.”
“I concur,” I add, stepping out from behind Andrei.
The two men grow a shade paler, and I memorize their features so I can find them later tonight in the dark and strangle them to death.
One of them swallows, hard, as if instinctively understanding the threat.
I shoot them an evil grin before I turn and leave.
I’ll make sure to have fun with those two before escorting them into hell.
Sergey is posted outside Sienna’s door when I get there.
I’m not as fond of him as I am Andrei. Instinctually, I know Sergey is right up The Wolf’s ass with everyone else.
But I’ve seen the way Andrei’s shoulders bunch around his boss when women are involved.
I did my own research on him and found out he has a wife and daughter.
Tricky business to be in while trying to protect the very people his boss thinks he has a right to own, and so I wonder if his loyalty can be swayed.
I’ve seen it happen before—men changing for a woman. It makes them weaker .
But it’s difficult getting out of the bratva, especially because of a change of heart.
“Sir.” Sergey nods.
“You're dismissed. I’ll take it from here.”
I adjust my collar and unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt.
I have a rough idea as to what brought about Sienna’s sour mood, and I’ll be fucked if I'm going to let a woman as beautiful as her pout over a cheating piece of shit.
I don't particularly believe in monogamy or relationships, but I'm not going to let her starve to death because of some greedy asshole who never deserved her in the first place.
I open the door, and order, “Get out of bed.”
“Fuck off, Nikolai.” Her voice is small and weak, and it infuriates me. I circle the bed. “I mean it. I— Hey!”
I rip off the blankets, exposing her body that’s clad in those silky boxers and matching shirt she seems to have taken a liking to, and then drape her over my shoulder. She kicks and screams, getting a good hit in when her elbow connects with my nose. So I bring my hand down hard on her ass.
That snaps her to attention. “I'm not letting you sulk over some loser.”
“You have no idea what you're talking about. Now, put me down.”
I ignore her as I unceremoniously carry her through the manor while she wriggles and fights with far more strength than I thought she would have. But that's what I like most about her; that no matter what, there's always fight in her. Even when she can't recognize it herself.
The few men we pass don’t try to intervene.
When we get to a blind spot in the security feed, and I know nobody is positioned close by, I flip her back over my shoulder and drop her to the ground.
She glares up at me as she swipes her hair from her face. “I told you to leave me alone.”
Her eyes are puffy, and my jaw tics in fury at the piece of shit who made her cry.
What right does he have to hurt her like this?
Even after breaking her trust, why does he still have such a hold over her?
He never should’ve been able to breathe the same air as her. It puts me in a bloody, murderous rage.
“Just tell me in detail how you want me to kill him, mishka , and I'll make it happen.”
“No, Nikolai, you psychopath. You can't just kill everyone because they piss you off.”
“Of course I can.”
She shoves me hard, and I allow her to. She’s an angry little minx who's used to containing the fire within her, and I'm a selfish asshole for wanting to bring out her worst. “I'm so over men. I'm so over you and your asshole ways.”
“That’s good, mishka , let it all out.” She shoves me again. “And tell me, how are you accountable in all of this? ”
Her eyes go wide, and if I thought I saw her in a fury before, it has nothing on this.
“You think I deserve to be cheated on? You think I wanted any of this pain that I have nowhere to put?” She’s screaming now, so loud it pierces my ears, and the hollow agony in her voice bubbles to the surface.
Tears prick her eyes. “You think because I'm some spoiled princess that I should've known what was coming for me?
That, what, no one can love me because I'm defective?”
Suddenly, I realize this list is going to take a while, and so I grab my pack of cigarettes from my back pocket and light one up. That only intensifies her anger.
“Do you find this amusing? Is this why you dragged me out here? So you could be entertained by my pain?”
I exhale and shake my head. “No. I do enjoy your pain, mishka , but only when I’m inflicting it onto your body. But I’m growing tired of the pity party you seem to be throwing for yourself.”
Her eyes narrow, and her voice is venomous when she hisses, “How fucking dare you.”
I shrug. “Your ex is a douchebag. Nobody deserves to be betrayed, but it happens. And yet, you continue whining like a victim. When will you take your power back and move on? I never thought of you as a coward.”
She opens her mouth to respond but nothing comes out.
There we go. If I knew all I had to do was speak more directly to shut her up, perhaps I would have done so from the get-go.
“All of these things you're telling yourself, are they your voice or someone else’s?
Are they tabloids or truth? Or are you using them as an excuse to hold you back because you don't know how to move forward?”
She chokes. “Those are some big fucking words coming from a man who has no moral compass.”
“Don't confuse that with not having direction. You can try and turn this on me as much as you want, but I know who I am. The question is, do you know who you are?”
She grows quiet. I’ve never used my skills of manipulation and mind fuckery in a positive way. Usually when people irritate me with their own inadequacies or lack of vision, I kill them.
Sienna Falcone, I will not kill.
I pull out six pieces of paper from my back pocket and unfold them. When she catches a glimpse of what’s on them, she sucks in a harsh breath.
“Why do you have photos of Michael?”
I shrug as I let the cigarette dangle loosely from my lips, then I remove the folded sleeve from my other back pocket.
“Because the only way I know how to solve anything is by killing it. Since I assume you don't have the stomach for it, I thought the next best thing was using these for target practice.” I flick out the folded sleeve that unrolls to show the six throwing knives carefully strapped inside.
She gapes at me as I walk across to the line of trees highlighted in the light of the setting sun. “You want me to throw knives at photos of my ex-fiancé?”
“No, I want to kill him,” I reply. “But since we're both stuck here until we figure out what the fuck is taking your friends so long, this will do.”
When I turn around, she’s glaring at me with one haughty brow raised. “And they say chivalry is dead.”
I smirk. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart, men like me are definitely the ones who kill the gentlemen. But we're also the ones who know how to have a lot of fun. Try it. You might pull that pole out of your pretty ass for once and feel like you can breathe.”