Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
Nicholas
“Alright, you've got me out here. What do you want?
" Sage asks, folding her arms and pouting as we walk through the gardens together.
She remains a respectable distance away from me as I lead her through the rose garden and to the lawns on the outskirts of the property, making sure to insolently kick at the dirt every few feet.
I'm not surprised she's responding to me this way. In fact, I probably deserve more disdain than she's given. She couldn't possibly hate me any more than I hate myself. It was a slap across the face and a wakeup call for me, personally.
All this time I've been worried I'm doing the wrong thing by defiling her. By going against her father's orders and my own, touching her when I shouldn't be. Thing is, my heart is so tightly wrapped up in her now that no amount of cutting would ever set me free.
I thought I was saving myself by pushing her away. Seeing her at Victor's behest ruins me, driving me to act impulsively rather than rationally. I can't take another second of it. With her wedding coming up, and her likely going through with it, I'm not sure I'll survive if I don't make this right.
Because I've now realized there's a third player in the game. Victor's brother. Alexei Rushkoff.
Funny thing is, I don't think neither he nor Sage realize that he's in play, but in every room they're in together they move close. Like they're drawn to each other and just can't stay away.
"Just a few more steps," I say, and Sage huffs from where she's walking next to me. As we turn around a row of hedges onto the lawns, I watch her face.
Her breath catches, but her eyes narrow. Conflicting reactions and not exactly what I was going for but it'll have to do.
"You set up a picnic?" she says, turning to me with a hand on her hip and a raised brow.
"Too cheesy or not cheesy enough?" Not waiting for her reaction, I head for the quaint setup. I've put a red and white checkered rug out here to enjoy the sunshine and had the kitchen staff put together a basket.
I'm hoping that the alone time together will allow me to plead my case, but by pleading in the gardens instead of her bedroom I'll be able to avoid pouncing on her and ruining my point.
She follows me but doesn't join me as I sit down on the rug and lean back on my hands, getting comfortable. "Sit down, Sage."
"No," she says, folding her arms and lifting her chin.
Sighing, I open the picnic basket, knowing I'll have her here. "There's a bottle of Moscato and chicken Greek yogurt tea sandwiches in here."
"Really!" she yelps, smiling as she falls onto the picnic rug and begins hunting for the little sandwiches that I know are her weakness. I smile up at the sky, closing my eyes to enjoy the sun as I leave her to heap into the food.
"So, what am I out here for, Nic?" she says around a mouthful.
I immediately feel cold, even in the sun's light. "I uh," I say, clearing my throat to buy time. "I... this is, it's my apology."
She swallows and purses her lips, giving me an unimpressed look.
"Didn't hear you say it," she says.
My eyes shutter. "I'm sorry," I say, my heart hurting as I lay it out on the line for her. But I know I put myself in this position and have no room to hold on to my pride. "All those things I said, they were harsh and I didn't mean any of them."
She wipes her mouth with her thumb. "You said you didn't want me enough to risk everything you ever worked for."
I shudder, closing my eyes so I don't have to look at her.
I'm such a sack of shit. I can't believe I decided to hurt her instead of hurting myself.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Protecting her interests over mine, taking the bullets that are meant for her, is literally my job description as her bodyguard.
Which, let's face it, in spite of all the teasing, is what I am.
"I did say that," I admit. "And I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it. I don't have an excuse. I'm just a shit who wanted to save myself when I should've been thinking of you."
She takes another large bite of the tiny tea sandwich and watches me wearily. I feel like I'm on the stand about to be sentenced.
"It wasn't very nice," she says.
I nod. "It was despicable and horrible. I'm horrible."
She sighs, her shoulders dropping as she puts down her food haul. "You're not horrible, Nic." She bites her lip. "Maybe an emotionally stunted fuckwit," I laugh at this, "but you're not horrible."
She smiles over at me and I smile too, feeling lighter but also undeserving of her forgiveness. Her green eyes sparkle at me, even as she wipes crumbs off her hands onto her knees. She's wearing a rose gold sundress that has fluffy sleeves and exposes a generous amount of her tanned thigh.
She's been wearing a lot of easy access dresses lately. Specifically to drive me crazy? Fuck, I hope so. I want them all to be for me. I try to avert my eyes and get my breathing under control. I really do not want to get a boner right now.
Though the ship is already sailing at half-mast.
"You said you'd answer my questions," she says, voice soft like she's being cautious in asking.
"I did say that," I agree. I get comfortable and lie down on my side to rest my head on my hand. "Have at me then, gorgeous."
Her lips tilt up at the corners, her face warming at my compliment, but she's a master of pulling herself together before acting upon it. The air settles heavily around us for a while, her eyes closed as she soaks in the sun. When she opens them to look at me, the mood is somber again.
"How many times have they come for me, Nic?"
"Too many to count." I go for brutal honesty. She now knows someone is after her. How many attacks have we stopped? Too many. Far too fucking many.
She blows out a breath.
"Is it that bad?" she eyes me through lowered brows, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress and pushing it further up her thigh.
"However bad you think it might be, assume it’s worse."
"Wow," she shakes out her head. "Cryptic much."
"Everyone is holding back a secret, Sage. Doesn't matter who they say they are, there's always something."
She answers too quickly. "Amen." There's a brief pause before she continues her line of questioning. I've got a lot of ground to grovel over, so I have no choice but to wait patiently.
"How long have you known they were after me?"
"Not long. A month," I wince. "Or two."
She nods.
"Took us a while to figure it out. But they keep coming to your room. They're not after the storages, the business. It's you. Always you."
She looks at me like she knows I mean several things with those words. "That night? Do you think they were after me?"
I let my silence be all the answer she needs.
Whoever came here, that night, wasn't trying to get Dimitri DeMarco.
But they got him anyway. Anton continues to think, against my better judgment, that this all materialized as a result of a plot against Dimitri but I'm not convinced.
I'm sure even before Dim died, it has always been about her.
"So it's all about me," she says, echoing my thoughts and I smile, wishing she could see how in sync we are. So she would agree to fuck off Victor and his psychotic brother.
"Hasn't it always been?" I joke.
She sends me a devastating smile before she hides it again. She brushes her long dark hair back over her shoulder.
"Is that what this is about? The secret you're so intent on hiding?" I ask. "Some sort of retribution for your father's murderer?"
"Who says I'm hiding anything," she shrugs, nibbling into a little tea sandwich like she's being casual even though she can't look at me.
I give her a dry look.
She slumps her shoulders. "Just trust me, please."
I bite back a sigh.
I want her trust more than anything.
"Fine," I bite out, realizing asking for forgiveness and trust on the same day is definitely asking too much.
She regards me warily before giving a nod and taking out another sandwich. She eats quietly for a while as I pretend not to watch her, giving her all the space she needs to let me back in.
"Nicholas?" She looks up at me with inquisitive eyes, unsure eyes. And I wonder if she's about to cross the threshold and give me what I want also.
"You've killed people before, right?"
What the hell?
I try to hold back my shock but I'm sure some of it shows. My eyes widen, my brows trying to shoot up before I gain control of my face. Hoping that she hasn't seen me react. "Yes."
"What should it feel like?" She sits up on her heels and leans in to me like she's hanging on my every word. Alarm bells go off in my head.
"A life in defense of another is the easiest life to take." I mull on it a moment. "And give."
"That doesn't answer my question."
The question takes me back to places that I don't wish to revisit. Every life is hard to take. And while necessary most of the time, it's always something that wears a heavy mark on my soul.
"Not like you'd think. These mobsters running around taking lives like it means nothing... They make it seem easy, but it never is. Not for me, anyway."
She takes a deep breath and studies the landscape, deep in thought. The people we associate with make it seem like human life means nothing. It is their way to discard life. Like it's trash that they'd put another load full of out the next week, anyway.
It is the way of this life. Though I'm not sure anyone can escape the toll it demands on your soul. It always hurts.
Even Freddie. Our notorious killer with a psycho streak to rival even the most tempered Rushkoff brother. He feels those kills under his skin. In his heart. I've watched as his eyes became heavier each time he snuffed another life at Dimitri or Anton's command.
"You do it anyway?" she asks, snapping me out of my memories.
"When I have to."
The alarm bells in my head grow to a full on blaze, but I keep my breathing under control. What does she know? Or what is she going to do? Why this information, and why now?
I run my tongue over my teeth. "Do you think you could do it?" I ask. "Kill in cold blood?"