30. Nikolai
NIKOLAI
S ienna is more like her father than I think she realizes.
“I didn’t expect that to go so well,” Sienna says, stretching her arms in the air as the cool breeze hits her face.
The pearl earrings she wears sway slightly with the breeze, and I haven’t seen her this carefree in …
well, ever. Not in the time that I was stalking her, and definitely not during her captivity at the manor.
If I could wish for just one thing, it would be to have more opportunities to witness her just like this.
But I do all I can to refrain from making promises or telling her what she wants to hear—in case I’m so cruel as to not make it out of this alive. My focus has shifted to how I’m going to ensure her safety in under a week.
“I think he actually liked you,” she says with a bright smile, and I memorize every detail of it. The way her lips curve, the way her eyes sparkle, the happiness seems to radiate from her.
“You and your father are very similar,” I comment as I shove my hands in my pockets, conscious of the man who’s been trailing us since we left her photoshoot. At first, he was on a motorcycle. Now he follows on foot, his head bent low and covered by a hood.
I assume it’s one of Armani’s men—probably one of the hounds—which would be expected. But I keep Sienna close because I can’t be certain this guy works for Luca. I have many enemies, and working for The Wolf draws attention—even from him if he suspects my loyalty might be wavering.
Constantly looking over one’s shoulder is part of the life I lead. I never cared much about it before, but it’s of greater concern to me now that Sienna’s been thrown into the mix.
Her eyes soften as she looks ahead. “Yeah, though he often says I have more of my mother in me. I think maybe that’s why he spoiled me so much. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, but I think we could both sense the void she created when she died.”
It’s the first she’s openly spoken of her mother to me, and I soak up every word. Far more interested in the details of how Sienna came to be the person she is, learning more about her than what I did when I was observing her before the kidnapping .
“Your father seems to be in love with the ghost of your mother, so why did he remarry?”
Sienna sighs. “Loneliness, I think. It’s funny.
When I was sixteen, he asked for my permission and blessing to marry my stepmother, Regina.
I didn’t understand it at the time. I was eleven when my mother died, and for five years, it’d just been my father and me.
Of course, I agreed because I wanted him to be happy, but I didn’t realize how desperately out of place I would feel afterward.
Like that home didn’t belong to me anymore.
I thought I had to prove myself; to regain the attention he already split between his busy work schedule and me.
So when he remarried, our time together shrank even more.
I don’t dislike Regina. She’s nice. But she was never my mother, you know?
“So, that’s when I started modeling. And, well, everything’s been a blur since.
I always thought there was an expectation for me to marry and be the perfect wife and mother.
Because that’s what’s expected of most of the women in my family’s social circles.
” She tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear.
I try to restrain the sense of happiness I feel at her opening up to me. She trusts me.
“I should’ve been more direct with him, and I suddenly feel like all the pressure I put on myself has evaporated like that.” She snaps her fingers and then turns her smile my way. “I feel so much lighter now.”
My heart squeezes at that smile, the sudden image of what Sienna might’ve been like as a child and teenager.
What she might look like with fine lines around her eyes and mouth as she ages.
All the different versions of her. Some that I’ve missed, and some that I’m not entitled to be a witness to but will force my way to obtain—if I make it out of this alive.
But no matter what, I know for a fact that Sienna will always be beautiful.
Not only physically—that’s a given. But her courage to be adaptable in various situations. To work hard and find love in what she does. I envy her for having such depth when I have very little comparatively.
I lectured her for not knowing herself and dancing to the tune of puppeteers.
But haven’t I been doing the same thing?
Following orders without question? Finding no real purpose other than what I’m good at?
I’ve never had to consider shaping my life any differently.
But suddenly I want to, to accommodate her.
I stop in my tracks.
After a couple of steps, she realizes I’m no longer walking beside her, and she turns back to me. “Nikolai?”
“No man will ever be worthy of putting a ring on your finger, mishka . Any man who has courted you before was in over their head, thinking they had any right to stand by your side and make you shrink to fit their agenda.”
Her eyes sparkle, and she bites down on her bottom lip before quickly pressing a kiss to my cheek. It’s timid and sweet, and contains a message I don’t entirely grasp.
“You know, Udav , for a man of few words, you seem to have found all the right ones now. I’m not going to shrink myself anymore or live for anyone else. You should consider the same.”
It hits me in the chest, where my cold heart beats. I’ve never once thought of myself that way, always selfishly paving my own path. But what if I no longer want to do that alone?
She looks past me, a huge grin arcing her lips. “Oooh, look how cute those cheesecakes are.” She points to the window display, and her expression lights up with pure joy as she runs over to get a better look.
I smirk as I follow behind her. I point to the same cheesecake she’s drooling over and say to the lady behind the counter, “We’ll purchase this one.”
Sienna’s head whips in my direction. “We don’t have to buy it. I don’t usually?—”
“I thought you weren’t shrinking yourself anymore. You’re drooling over this cheesecake, mishka .”
She stiffens, wiping at her lips, and I chuckle.
“I am not!” she snaps, then laughs once she realizes I’m toying with her.
And it hits me that we aren’t acting like captor and captive. We’re in a bubble of our own making, where the bratva and the mafia and douchebag ex-fiancés don’t exist. The chaos and noise of the city fizzles into the background. And all I can see is her .
And the asshole in the hoodie who’s still following us.
When the lady hands over the bag with the cheesecake, I quietly say to Sienna, “Stay here for a moment,” then I head in his direction.
He’s leaning against a lamppost, hands shoved in his pockets. When he looks up, I notice he’s wearing a white mask that denotes him as one of Luca’s hounds, and the gem affixed to the mask is light blue. His blue eyes sparkle almost as much as the gem in the glow cast by the streetlight.
“Didn’t get me any cheesecake?” he asks mockingly.
“If you follow me into this alley, I might have one for you. I’ll even force feed it to you.”
He chuckles, and I’m surprised. I often find the ones who seem most carefree and hide behind smiles and mirth are often the most unhinged. And once they snap, they’re like a livewire. But it can also be a weakness.
He pulls out a black envelope. “Here, a personal invitation from my boss.”
My gaze drops to it, and I slowly take it. When I read it, my eyebrows dip. It’s an invitation to Balmere, the club that conceals his underground fighting ring.
“Your attendance is expected in two days’ time. Sienna Falcone is to accompany you.”
“So you can steal her from me?”
He casually kicks off the lamppost. “Possibly. I don’t think you should complain, since that’s how you started this whole thing. In what world do you think someone like her would choose to stand by your side?”
My grip tightens on the bagged cheesecake, too tempted to pull one of my blades out. His eyes crinkle beneath the mask, and I can tell whoever this fucker is, he’s smiling, purposely antagonizing me, hoping for a fight.
“Pretty, though,” he adds.
“Nikolai?” Sienna calls out as she walks our way, and she pulls up short when she sees the masked man.
The hound makes no attempt to speak with her directly, so I turn my back on him. It’s been a long time since someone’s words have unnerved me. And perhaps his do because I know they’re true.