10. Nik
“It’s so nice to meet you, Nikolai,” Luna’s mother, introduced to me as Maria, says. She leans in for a hug, interrupting my meal. Her form is dainty like her daughter’s. “This is Isabella, my youngest daughter.” She motions for Isabella to come forward, and Luna’s sister gives a brief smile.
I offer a nod. The nagging feeling that Luna should be here for this weighs on me, but she seemed content to be alone on the terrace.
Spinning the ring on my finger, I seek out some of my Bratva men to see if anyone is paying attention to this interaction.
Luna’s mother grabs my hand and points at the ring. “I’m so sorry about this. I told Luna this wasn’t fit for a man of your caliber, but it was the one she picked out. I can replace it with gold if you’d like.”
My mouth opens, but I close it quickly.
Luna picked this out?
I was relieved I don’t have to wear something large and gaudy like she does. The sleek black lines are perfect.
“No need, Mrs. Buscetta,” I reply, turning my attention to Salvatore. “And, Mr. Buscetta, we’ll be leaving. I have pressing work to get to, as I’m sure a man of your caliber can understand.”
His irritated eyes meet mine, and a small smirk curves my lips.
Dimitry helps load Luna’s bag into the back of my BMW while Luna hangs behind her family, none of them speaking. The distance between them is unmistakable—despite her father, mother, and sister standing three feet in front of her.
Luka’s arm rests over Kate’s shoulders as they wait in front of the country club to see us off. Once the trunk is closed, I nod to Luka and give Kate a wink.
I watch in bewilderment as Luna’s parents leisurely dismiss her with a nod before turning back to the building. No goodbye. No hugs. Hell, this family is cold.
Leaning back on my car, hands tucked into my pockets, my gaze travels from Luna’s heels up to where her arms are wrapped around her chest.
It looks as if she’s tracing the lines in the driveway brickwork. Her eyes move up, then over, down, and across again. Like she’s trying to commit each brick to memory. Or avoid facing me. It’s probably the latter.
Observing her feels wrong.
Clearing my throat, I open the passenger side door. “Ready?” I ask.
She only offers me a nod.
The ride to the warehouse is painfully silent. I have no idea what to say, or what to ask. I should’ve prepared better or listened to Kate when she told me to talk to her.
She cornered me at the reception. Walked straight into the men’s restroom to “offer me some friendly advice”. It was more of a reprimand as she tried to get me to see things from Luna’s perspective, to understand what she may be feeling. To convince me to talk to her about the situation and our expectations. Except, when I opened my mouth on the terrace, my words were clipped and unfeeling.
But I don’t want to get to know her. I don’t want to be responsible for her. I don’t want to come to rely on her, or depend on her being in my life. Because, contract or not, this marriage will come to an end.
Her dress spills over the black leather interior of the car, the lace wrinkling, as she squeezes herself as close to the door as possible.
I smirk. She doesn’t want to be here, either.
“I live in a warehouse,” I blurt out, and her head slowly turns to me.
“A warehouse?”
There isn’t any judgment in her tone, just curiosity. For a woman accustomed to a lavish estate, she’s already handling the news better than I thought she would.
“Yeah, we … Luka?—”
Should I be sharing this?
“The Bratva owns several warehouses, and during the build of the newest one, I put a studio apartment above it.”
“So, you don’t live in the city?” she asks, and I watch the tendril of hope that appeared when I first mentioned the warehouse crash from her expression.
“No.” And I never will.
“Oh, okay.”
Oh, okay?I’m having trouble reading my new roommate already.
“Do you—do you like the city or something?” I ask, distant memories plaguing me with unease.
She studies me, stretching her arms out in front of her like she’s trying to let loose some of the tension in her shoulders.
“I don’t know. I’ve only been a couple of times.”
“Don’t you only live two hours from it? Your father owns several restaurants there, right?”
“Yes, but my sister and I were always kept pretty far from it. Me more so.”
She frowns like she’s remembering something, and a fleeting spark ignites in her eyes before she blinks it away.
“I see,” I say, confused as to why I suddenly want to keep her talking. Her voice is soft and smooth. Its silkiness wraps around me like a lasso, pulling me in.
I need to get out of this car.
We pull up to the warehouse almost an hour later. The lights are on, and the security guards on duty acknowledgemy return. Luna’s eyes go wide, and I notice her start to shake when the guards come up to the car.
“We have 24/7 security on site here. Luka assigned two guards to this warehouse for you …” She looks at me, and I forget where I was going with this.
I reach for my door handle, intending to go around to her side, but she lets herself out of the car. She bunches her dress in her hands and lifts it.
“If you need to go anywhere, please ask one of them.” As I say that, an odd sensation gnaws at me.
I could take her.
No, you can’t.
She nods, and I lead her to the entrance.
Several men are working with shipping crates. They wave at me, doing a double take when they notice Luna in her dress.
“The men will be working around the clock, but the apartment is fairly soundproof.” I pause, watching Luna study the men. “This way, Luna.”
She looks at me, the deep brown of her gaze burning a hole through me. Clenching my jaw, I look away. Damn it.
I both want her attention and need to push it away at the same time. It’s infuriating.
We come to the stairs leading to the second floor, and I motion to our right. “This way is the training facility and gym. We keep both locked with biometric access so if you’d like to use the facilities let me know and we can get you added.”
She nods again. Her throat works as she swallows. This is no doubt overwhelming for her, and I try to muster up more patience, heeding what Kate suggested.
As I scan into the apartment, I make a mental note to have an access card made for Luna. The studio’s air is cold after being away all day. I switch on several lights and march over to the thermostat to bump it up. When I turn to head over to the kitchen, I notice Luna still standing in the doorway, eyes raking over everything. Her arms are closed around her middle again.
“This is the kitchen, obviously.” I smirk. Luna focuses on me through her thick lashes, and I blink.
What was I saying?
“Since it’s modeled after a penthouse, everything flows together, but sliding pocket doors separate the bedroom and master bathroom from the rest of the space. I usually leave them open, but …”
I’m mumbling like a stupid idiot now and I don’t know why I’m so flustered. The sudden urge to be a tour guide in my own home—utterly annoying.
“This is the living area, TV, bedroom, bathroom,” I continue, pointing to each area of the apartment. “Oh, and add whatever you want to the fridge. You can order on your phone and send one of the guys to go pick it up. Or one of them can drive you to the store. Whatever.” Luna’s eyes follow my finger. They’re red rimmed, and I can’t tell if she’s fighting tears or tired.
“I—I don’t have a phone,” she says, and it’s barely a whisper.
I snort. “Who doesn’t have a phone?”
“My father took it away when I was seventeen, after?—”
She stops and doesn’t finish.
Her hands still grip her wedding dress. The image of Luna standing here in my bachelor pad in her wedding dress, as my—I can’t finish that sentence. It’s the most screwed-up picture.
“Okay, I will get you a phone to use. Oh, and uh …” I pause, reaching into my back pocket to pull out my wallet. “Here, you can use this until I get you a card with your name on it.” I slide my black credit card across the counter toward her, but she only stares at it.
The loud clunk of something hitting the floor startles her, and we both turn our attention to one of the men pushing her suitcase through the door.
She offers him a shy smile before he leaves. “Thank you.”
“I’m going to hit the gym for a little if you want to shower while I’m away,” I say. She visibly stiffens and her gaze snaps to the bedroom.
“Sh-should I take the couch?” She stutters her words, and her button nose scrunches up again. The word cute flashes across my brain, and I want to shoot myself in the foot.
“I can take the couch if you’re more comfortable, but this isn’t a weekend stay, Luna. I have a king-sized bed. We would probably sleep better there.”
Red creeps into her cheeks.
There is no agenda with Luna. She’ll be the first woman in my bedroom—like I said, I don’t bring dates home—but sharing a bed doesn’t mean anything. It’s a necessity; to make sure we’re both functioning adults in the morning.
“Okay, thanks, Nikolai.”
“It’s Nik.”
“Okay, thanks, Nik.”
She grabs her bright red suitcase and rolls it through the bedroom doors. I’m left standing in the kitchen, mouth open. The sound of my name on her lips, silky and smooth. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
I’ll grab clothes from the gym’s shower room—I need to get out of here.
Two hours later, after working off all my bottled-up energy and four helpings of risotto, I head back up to the apartment, freshly showered. It’s 3 a.m. All the lights are off, except for the floor lamp in the living room. I creep to the bedroom, trying to stay quiet?—
Damn it.
I just crashed into Luna’s suitcase, and now my pinky toe is on fire. I growl at the red thing and shove it against the wall. Looking over to the bed, I notice Luna asleep on her back, unbothered by the noise.
Her hair is spilling over my cream silk pillowcase, and a sliver of moonlight highlights her long lashes ticking in tiny movements. Her plump lips are pursed ever so slightly. I pad over and pull back the covers, glancing down at my basketball shorts as I do. Normally, I would take these off, but I guess it’s time to start wearing them.
I strip off my shirt and settle into bed, determined to try to get at least four hours before I need to be at Warehouse Nine in the morning. A small sigh exhales next to me, and that jasmine-citrus aroma wafts into my nose.
I snatch the second pillow on my side and shove it over my face, cutting off Luna’s alluring scent. It’s going to be a long night.