Chapter 21
Aspen
N ot only does Nikolai’s trust come with a phone, it also comes with his limitless black card.
The car’s trunk is filled to the brim with clothes and little knickknacks I found along the way.
Since we moved back into the penthouse three days ago, I bought things to decorate the house.
If I had to look and be in that black hole of a home, I may have been sucked into a void, never to be seen or heard from again.
“Sergei, could we stop by the jewelry store near Arbat Street?”
Sergei grunts his approval.
This is the end of Nikolai’s trust. Although I may be able to roam free, my freedom has limits. Sergei has been assigned to be my personal guard and driver and let’s just say, he’s not happy about it.
When we arrive at Oath and Opal Vault, Sergei gets out and opens my car door as the reluctant gentleman he is.
The biting wind whips my braids across my face, and I fight hard to ignore the cold chilling my bones.
Sergei walks us through the double doors of the jewelry store and it’s grand in every sense of the word.
The staff are dressed in all black, long-sleeved shirts and pants with a gold nameplate to display their name across their chest. Wealth bleeds from the crimson, silk-lined walls and recessed lights punctuate the ceiling like small stars.
Against the walls are display cases of diamond laced necklaces and bracelets.
In the center aisles are glass displays and there are more necklaces and bracelets but with rings, watches, and earrings.
“Welcome,” one of the staff members greets in Russian. “Is there anything you’re looking for specifically?”
I run my newly manicured nails over a glass display. When the staff member nods her head, I say in Russian, “I’m looking for something that’s timeless.”
“We have several pieces available. Are you looking for brand specific?” she asks, moving behind the glass display, standing in front of me.
Lifting my head to meet her eyes, I notice that she’s wearing contacts and that her name tag says Irina.
“Do you carry jewelry that has a touch of obsidian?” I test.
Her lips curve up. “We carry De Claire and Sainte.”
I chuckle quietly to myself.
Oath and Opal Vault is the Syndicate Consulate of Russia. Irina is asking me if I need to be extracted or do I need to send a message to the Syndicate’s chairman.
She chances a look behind her and I look too. Sergei stands on guard near the door with a look that screams he’s all business and no play. He’s oblivious to the fact that he has walked into the lion’s den.
My domain.
But he’s not paying too much attention to us. During our shopping trips we’ve been on today, I’ve never given him cause to think that I’m up to no good. I won’t start now.
I bring her focus back to me. “Could you show me your Sainte collection, Irina? ”
“Of course.” She gestures for me to follow her, and we make our way to the far back wall of the store. “Over here we have an assortment of our black diamond earrings and necklaces. Please have a look.”
Fake browsing the catalog, I make a show of interest. “What should I do?” I feign my disappointment. “I’m not seeing anything I like.”
“If you would like, we do provide custom-made pieces. I can help you place a request,” Irina supplies politely.
Clapping my hands, I say, “excellent!”
When Irina pulls out a request form, it alerts Sergei and he’s at my side in an instant.
Raising a dismissive hand to him, he cocks his head to the side.
The red flecks in his silver eyes don’t hide the silent dare, his loud threat.
There’s no doubt in my mind that if I wasn’t on the anti-thraller pill, he would compel me to keep my mouth closed
“What would you like?” she asks with pen and paper at the ready. I don’t miss how her eyes shift from me to Sergei. She must sense my lack of agency.
Good.
“I want a Sainte bracelet with a chain-link band in an X pattern, with black diamonds. I also want one black tungsten-like thin band for my forefinger with a swirl design.”
The message to mom is:
There’s no direct obsidian drift destination available where I’m held and I’m with shadow forgers, but I don’t need immediate extraction.
Shadow forgers were supposed to be extinct hundreds of years ago. They were a diverse group and covered many regions in the world. That is until my mother terminated all of them.
Or so we thought .
The Volkovs are a loose end. Meaning if they were to know who I am, death would be a mercy from them.
The only thing my family knows of the Volkovs is that they run the largest crime sector of the east hemisphere.
We have never seen them, therefore, we never knew they were vampires, let alone shadow forgers.
My mom can handle them on her own because she embodies all vampiric powers. But as for my father, siblings and obviously myself, the best we can do is keep up with them in a fight. Ultimately, the Volkovs could overpower us.
Possibly.
“When would you like your order to be ready?” Irina quickly jots down everything I’ve said before looking back at me, waiting for a timeframe.
I ponder on this for a bit.
How long do I want to stay with Nikolai? It’s not like I want this to be forever.
But he does.
“Three months.”
Yes. I can let him go in three months.
***
Dropping my new purse and a few bags on the new small circular table that I ordered online with express delivery, I see Nikolai at the stove from the entrance, sautéing vegetables. The crackling reaches me all the way over here and it smells rich, divine, and my mouth waters instantly.
I don’t miss that he’s wearing the red apron I purchased just for him. It’s nothing special but he’s a messy cook and there’s always a stain or two on his pristine clothes when he’s done cooking. His clothes just need an extra level of protection from him.
Our home has a little more life now. It’s still dark but it’s dark and cozy reimagined.
I’ve added large heavy blackout drapes to our floor-to-ceiling windows and a massive chocolate-brown sectional couch with varied-textured pillows.
We have a coffee table with a few decorative books and a warm, vanilla-scented candle at the center.
I added a plush charcoal rug to soften up the space a bit more. And, there’s greenery here and there.
Life is here now.
“Niko, where do you want these?” Sergei holds out the bags he carried up in front of him.
“Wherever Aspen wants them,” he says over his shoulder as he adds more chopped meat to the pan.
Sergei grunts in irritation.
Those have been his only words to me today—grunts. If it wasn’t for moments like these, when he is speaking to anyone but me, I would have deemed him mute.
Only nonverbal words are allocated to me, it seems.
“I’ll take them.” I grab the bags from him and he turns his nose up at me.
Leaning forward, I lower my voice for only him to hear.
“I don’t like you either. If I could piss in your coffee and watch you drink it whole, I would.
Fortunately for you, I’m a lady so I’ll ignore your disrespect just this once.
” I air kiss him and move towards the rooms.
“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” Nikolai calls out to me.
“Ok. I’m just putting some stuff in your office.”
Pulling out the items one by one from the bag, I get to work.
I place small decorative sculptures towards the edge of his dark wood desk.
After I pull out a glass photo frame, I walk over to the top drawer of his desk to pull out our wedding photo.
Viessa gave this to me at the compound before we came back to the penthouse.
Not going to lie, we look great together.
If only this wasn’t a fake marriage.
I put our picture in the frame and place it on the opposite end of the sculptures. When I close the drawer, something catches my eye.
Two wedding rings on a chain.
They were under our wedding picture. But the rings weren’t there when I placed the picture here the other day. He put them here. Why?
Grabbing them, I assess the rings. No, I assess hers.
Helana.
Her ring looks like it was carved from the earth with an emerald sitting in the center of it. The rose gold band is like vines splitting into multiple strands that encircle the diamonds at the emerald’s base.
It’s delicate and enchanting.
Looking down at my own ring, mine is far from what Helana’s represent.
Slow warmth gradually covers my back.
“Why are our rings so different from one another?”
From behind me, he grabs my hand and rubs my wedding ring between his fingers. “She was more heads in the clouds, a daydreamer.” His voice is low as his breath fans my ear.
“And me?” I ask, curiously.
How does he view me? Does he see me just as delicate? From the beginning, it has been about my survival and saving Roman. There haven’t been many moments where I could be soft, though now, I find myself wanting to.
His chin drops to my shoulder, my hand is still in his. “You’re more active and practical. This ring is durable.”
He swipes across my ring that looks like it’s forged in midnight itself. The band is twisted into skeletal branches with dustings of black diamonds that remind me of a winter forest night. At the heart of the ring is a pale cloudy opal gem that looks like the moon with shadows.
It’s unsettlingly beautiful.
“Your ring shows who you belong to and what type of man he is.” He plants a kiss on my ring finger.
“And who are you?” I ask, not quite sure what he means.
“I’m yours.”
He says nothing else once his lips are on mine. I fall deeper for him with every stroke of his tongue against mine. Cursing my wavering heart.