Chapter 25
Aspen
T wo things that are for certain.
One, jealousy burns and itches my skin worse than poison ivy ever has. Two, you have to strongly like someone in order to feel jealousy. I’m currently acknowledging both of these facts now as I stomp down the stairs to the dance floor.
That bitch.
If seeing the picture of Quinn and Nikolai had my blood running hot before, silently watching her rub her hands across his chest had steam blowing out my ears.
Not once. Not once did he swat her hand away.
That’s the part that’s pissing me off. Did he look like he enjoyed her touching him?
No. Based on how he literally cringed at her touch, he would have turned green with disgust if he could.
That doesn’t cool down the fact that despite it all, she looked like she belongs there. Next to him.
She’s right, it’s their world and I’m a stranger to it all. But am I really? I’m an heir to the Syndicate. The Bratva is basically the same, just a different playground, a different power structure.
Marching to the exit door, bodies sway and bump into me as I forge a pathway forward.
No way in hell I’m staying here after he embarrassed me, humiliated me.
He has a whole ass wife but allowing a woman who enjoys cosplaying a prostitute to feel all over him?
Letting the woman who’s been blatantly disrespectful and allow her to publicly stake her claim on him?
Fuck him.
And to hell with him and his club opening. To hell with him making me feel like we were becoming something, something tangible and real. To hell with him shattering my resolve.
When Sergei showed me the picture of him and that fucking escort, he had a gleam in his eyes. Even though he’s a fucking snake, I know he only showed me that picture to provoke me. But he did more than provoke, he unknowingly pushed me to accept I have feelings for that sadistic prick.
I force my eyes to stay dry when a rough set of hands grabs my arm.
“Nikolai, I’m not in the mood!” I say, not sparing him a glance.
“Good thing,” a familiar voice says, “I’m not Nikolai.”
Turning around, I find the dark brown eyes, without the red flecks, I’ve seen ever since I was a little girl. It’s smart that’s he’s wearing contacts to hide what he is.
“Petro?” I breathe out.
His face softens as he gives me a small smile. “Aspen, darling.” He cuffs my face like he’s holding a small child. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.” A tear falls and Petro swipes it away. “Are you ok, darling? The Bratva hasn’t—”
“No, the Volkovs have been very hospitable.” I say shaking my head, raising my hands to hold his wrist while he still cradles my face. “What are you doing here? For business or for business ?”
“Both. One of the club owners invited me tonight for the opening. The Syndicate used that intel to have me come undercover to check on you.” Petro place both hands on my shoulders.
“The Syndicate and the East Coast Wolves has been tearing up Russia to find you, that is until you sent that message from the Consulate.”
My forehead creases. “I haven’t heard any disturbances. The last major event was when we were attacked by the Yakuzas months ago.”
He reaches down to grab my hand and walks us to the closest bar. He orders two drinks before facing me again. “Yes, your mother and father found out about that and went to Japan personally.”
“Personally?” I shriek. “Why not just send Roman or Raevyn?”
He shakes his head. “No. Did you forget who you are Aspen, darling? You’re an heir to the Syndicate. A hand lifted to you is also lifted towards them.”
My chest squeezes at the knowledge that my parents have stepped in, personally, on my behalf. All my life, my parents seemed mechanical. Any affection, especially from my mom, felt forced or needed to be earned. I wouldn’t say we are close by any means and going to see them always left me drained.
“Your father obliterated the Yakuzas’ west faction. He kept one member alive for your mother to interrogate. Do you want to know what they found?”
The bartender brings us our drinks. Petro has something that looks like whiskey. When I sip my drink, it’s something fruity but strong as hell. The cool liquid burns my throat as it goes down.
“What did they find?”
“The little birdie said that one member from one of the six Bratva families, placed a bounty on you. Apparently, she’s desperate to get you out of the picture.”
“She?” It only takes me a fraction of a second to understand who she is. “The escort? ”
“If the escort’s name is Quinn, then yes.” He takes a quick sip of his drink.
“That doesn’t make sense. Blowing up the car would have killed Nikolai too.”
He shrugs, turning to place his back against the bar.
I take a quick glance at the office suite balcony to see Nikolai and one of his partners are having a heated discussion.
“Let’s make our way to the dance floor. If my husband sees me drinking at the bar with you, my parents will find both our remains embedded in this very floor.”
He huffs. “Falling for the enemy, darling? That man and his family are dangerous.”
I loop my arm into Petro and walk us to the dance floor. “He’s not my enemy. Also, he’s not dangerous to me.”
Petro assesses me as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “You love him.”
My heart skips a beat and my breath hitches. “No, I don’t.”
“Then why care if he sees you drinking at the bar with me? Why not let me extract you now? Why wait?” He fires off his questions in a full on assault.
I stop us in the middle of the floor where people’s arms flail in the air and their bodies sway to techno music.
“Petro,” I whisper knowing he can still hear me through the loud thumping of the music. “I think you were right when you told me that love could find you in the strangest places.”
His knowing eyes peer into mine, something gentler moves through them. “You’re playing a very risky game, darling. But you know I understand. ”
I nod my head.
This has always been Petro. He’s been a part of my tribe in my parents’ absence. He’s played the role of my guide, my uncle, my friend, and photographer .
He gets me.
I hate to acknowledge this but that’s probably why he’s here and not Roman. Whereas Roman would have drifted us as soon as he came into contact with me, Petro lets me choose my own path.
I pull out all my favorite dances on the floor. I’ve done the robot, the macarena and now the lawn mower.
“Darling, if you continue to do another ridiculous dance, I’m leaving and telling your parents that your new family is feeding you hallucinogenic pills.”
Petro is thoroughly annoyed but dancing with him like this is one of my favorite past times. He’s a man born for the waltz and the tango. Anything outside of his element, especially my ridiculous dances, he deems beneath him.
Such a snob.
Snakelike tendrils curl around my boots. It’s the only warning I get before his cool breath is on my neck.
“Who’s our friend, Malyshka?”
“Petro Laurent.” Petro holds his hand out, Nikolai shakes it.
“You know my wife how, exactly?” The smile plastered on his face would make you think we are in safe waters.
We are not.
Petro smiles mirrors Nikolai’s. “Aspen’s entertainment company contracts me as her photographer. ”
“Ah, you’re the photographer,” he mutters as though the words don’t taste right on his tongue. “They didn’t contract you tonight and I hate to do this, but I need to steal my wife away for pictures. You don’t mind, do you? Or did you want to take our pictures instead?”
On the surface, his voice is calm, playful even. But I know the truth. Ice lurks behind every word, its bite leaves chills down my back.
Petro’s hands fold to fists at his sides. “No to both questions.” Petro gives Nikolai a tight smile before turning his focus on me. “Aspen, don’t forget we have a shoot for Iconique Magazine in Paris next month.”
His message is clear.
He will be extracting me next month. Whatever leniency he was granting me earlier is long gone. My agency be damned.
Three months ago, I would have been elated to be liberated from the big bad wolf. But not now. Not when the wolf has become my peace and his shadows have become my home.
Are you needing rescuing, Malyshka?
No, Nikolai, I don’t.
Nikolai turns us away, leading us to the large Press Wall, close to the entry of the club.
“I thought you didn’t like your picture taken, Nikolai.”
“That was before. I have a reason to now.” He positions us in front of the club’s banner.“Especially since I have something I need to show off. Something to claim.”
“Aspen, who is your date to the club’s opening?” A reporter asks in Russian .
“Her husband.”
Nikolai lightly, yet firmly, wraps his fingers around my neck, his lips landing on mine as the camera flash.
He devours me, claiming me for all the world to see. Sealing our fate with every stroke of his tongue, telling me there’s no escaping him.
Ever.