Chapter 28 Mikail
MIKAIL
Am I happy for my best friend? The answer is a resounding yes.
I’ve been worried sick for months about his mental and physical well-being. At least that’s a worry less. But the misery that owns me might as well bury me. I just want to be alone to wither in peace.
Enzo has it all. I’ve lost it all. It’s the first time the balance between us tips to one side, it might as well break.
Dahlia is physically so close, yet I don’t think we are further apart than right now. Once you cross the line, even if you step back, things won’t shift back to their original alignment. It’s impossible.
“You’re quieter than usual,” Enzo says while the women engage in conversation, my sister recounting their honeymoon.
I mumble a noncommittal sound, sipping from my glass of vodka. We’re at the Villa, my best friend’s newest project, catering to those who appreciate and can afford luxury. From the food to the service and accommodation, it’s a one-of-a-kind experience.
Calla offers Enzo a secretive smile. I take it that this place means something to them.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Dahlia stealing glances at me.
She’s been mostly silent too. When these two are together, she opens up more.
My sister is a troublemaker, and since Dahlia has a rebellious streak, they are like two peas in a pod.
A small smile grazes my lips. My sister is a damn force. The best sniper in the underworld. She thrived in this dark world and made it bow at her feet.
She now leads the Council, an organization she once served, and is happily married to the only man she let in. If her radiant face is any indication, Enzo does a fabulous job as husband and partner. He would give my sister everything she desires, and that thought comforts me.
I believed I’d lost my baby sister and my mother in that car explosion. An attack. My father tried to find out the culprit for years. Once he discovered the truth, he sought retribution for his loss.
What should have been a joyous celebration turned into a bloodbath.
He killed Davide and kidnapped Dahlia on her eighteenth birthday.
Finding out the truth about who was behind the attack didn’t sway me.
I knew she was innocent. I knew my brother had nothing to do with it.
So I betrayed my kin, and I would do it a thousand times over for her.
Staring out the window, I take another long gulp, the clear alcohol sliding down my throat just as impatient to reach my bloodstream as I am. I just want to go to the club, work until exhaustion knocks me the fuck out.
“Everything all right between you and Dahlia?” he asks, nudging my side.
Guilt sucker punches me in the gut, hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. I can’t even look him in the eye, knowing the forbidden I’ve indulged in his absence. And how my only regret is that I can’t anymore. She doesn’t want me.
My fingers tighten around the glass, the pressure I apply might shatter it. I bring the drink back to my mouth. “Mm-hmm.”
He groans. “Asshole, will I get more than monosyllabic answers from you tonight?”
“We’re fine,” I snap, dragging a hand down my face to stay composed.
“Usually Dahlia would have tried to get a reaction from you. I guess the Porsche and the trip helped.”
He lets me know, oh so subtly, that he’s in the know. I guess he doesn’t want to believe the rumors, or Lorenzo handpicked which ones to tell him. I don’t fucking care.
It’s a known fact that I have spoiled her. It’s the trip that raises questions.
“Tristan told me you two seemed very close.”
I crack my neck, anger crawling out of the hole I try to keep sealed. That asshole wants to die. I wonder what strategy he follows now. You can never tell with him.
“We’re close, Enzo. Nothing fucking new,” I grit out.
Her pull is too strong, and I capitulate to my weakness, staring at her. When our eyes lock, the world disappears. Everything else ceases to matter.
My sister clears her throat, and that pulls me out of my Dahlia-induced spell. It’s a clear warning flashing in her eyes. As she glances from me to Dahlia, her face clears of any doubt, from suspicion to certainty.
Drinking from a glass of wine, Calla places her palm on Enzo’s. I don’t know whether to distract him or simply support him.
I want to confess. I long to profess my love to her.
That I would die for her.
That I wish to grow old with her.
That I hate how we started, but I can’t regret loving her.
If destiny exists, then she is mine.
“I’m out,” I say and stand up.
“To the club?” my sister asks, and I nod in confirmation.
“Could you bring me home first, please?” Dahlia asks, her eyes just as pleading as her soft tone, rooting me in place.
I can’t say no to her, even if it ends me. “Sure.”
“Enjoy your night,” Dahlia says and kisses them both on their cheeks.
My jaw clamps, pushing my molars together and causing a grating sound as jarring as my troubled mind. “What are you doing?” I whisper snarl.
Why the fuck are you punishing me like this?
“Losing it,” she whispers.
Instinctively, I place my palm on her back and lead her to my car.
Opening the door for her, I wait for her to get inside.
I can control myself. The drive is short, and after I bring her home, I will work, fight, and drink enough that I forget to be coherent. In that specific order.
Once she’s buckled in, I close the door and drag in a lungful of air, hoping the fresh air will blow away the poisonous desire.
My hand hovers over the start button when she says, “I miss you.”
“You miss me?” I grumble, my voice ringing with incredulity.
She casts an angry look my way.
“What, Dahlia? What do you want from me now? A quick fuck because apparently that’s what I’m good for,” I snap.
She gasps. I don’t think I ever raised my voice or lost my temper with her.
But I am sick. Sick with a love I will never be cured of. Perhaps my death, but I doubt it. Sick with dreams I’ve never dared to dream, and now they taunt me, play on repeat scenarios that won’t ever become real.
She fidgets with her fingers in her lap. “You’re mad at me.”
A statement. Not a question.
Raking a hand through my hair, I suck in a lungful of air to ground myself. “I’m not, baby girl. I’m sorry.”
Her well-being will always trump mine.
“Stop protecting me. I messed up. I…”
I shrug, pretending nonchalance. “You woke up and realized it was just temptation. You wanted a taste of the forbidden.”
She blinks, looking horrified. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know. Sin and innocence are like water and oil. They simply don’t mix long term.”
I don’t even care if it was my sexual proclivities, or she realized that I might be her Mika, but I am also Mikail Morozov, the Pakhan, a monster who hides behind a legitimate front.
“Then I’m not so innocent anymore, am I after…?” She closes her eyes for a moment, sighing.
I press the pedal to the floor. If she regrets that, I am going to blow my brains out. I can take everything but not that.
“I’m sorry I ever touched you. I am sorry for everything, malishka.”
It’s a lame apology that doesn’t convey the depth of my feelings.
“Mika…” She says my name with such haunting sorrow it kills me.
What fucking ghosts disturb her peacefulness, so I can slay them for her?
In front of the mansion, I wait for her to get out and leave me to succumb to my love for her. Instead, she looks ahead and says, “Bring me back to Paris.”
“That was a mirage, baby girl.” I gulp. “You’ll wake up and...” Shatter me. Again.
In an instant, she unlocks her belt and climbs into my lap, bursting into a fit of hard cries. Sobbing into my chest, I don’t know how to make it better, so I just hold her. Hold and caress her.
“Please, don’t cry, zhizn moya,” I whisper in her hair. “I’m so sorry. Fuck, I should have known better than to give in. You’re confused.”
She whips her chin toward me, eyeing me through blurry eyes. “What?”
“It was an infatuation that got out of hand. I am older. I shouldn’t have taken advantage. You bonded with me because of trauma. I’m a piece of shit… Fuck.” I shut my eyes for a minute, but I don’t deserve solace.
I open them, facing what I caused to the woman I love.
“Is that what I made you believe?” Pain strikes her features, and she covers her face with her hands. “Then I’m the monster. Not you.”
She slips out of my arms, which fall to my side, lifeless, just like I feel.
It’s like my strength is gone. She moves so fast that I can’t reach her before she trips out of the car.
That sight makes me break out of my paralysis.
I dart toward her side. She’s down on her hands and knees, eyes closed, with tears streaming down her face.
I crouch to her, assessing the injury, but I don’t see scrapes or bleeding.
Her chest pants with her labored breathing. “Go. Just go.” She pushes at me, but I grab her hand, rubbing my thumb along her palm.
“Dahlia, baby girl, you’re hurt. I can’t…”
I help her up, but she hisses the moment she puts her right foot down.
I’d rather endure an eternity of pain than witness her hurting. “How bad is it?”
“It’s nothing.” Her voice sounds so broken, as if she doesn’t care about anything anymore.
Gathering her in my arms, I bring her inside. She curls herself into my embrace, palming my chest.
“I don’t deserve your kindness,” she hiccups.
“Don’t let me hear you say that shit ever again,” I grit out.
“I’m sorry.” It sounds like she says it for something completely different.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I say, trying to assure her it’s not her fault. It’s fucking mine.
She blows out a deep sigh. “Right, how could I forget you give and I receive? Well, I caused you misery, so what should you give me now?”
“Peace. You should take the offer.” Every step makes it harder for me not to kiss her breathless, love her senseless.
“You know?” she whispers, eyeing me with huge doe eyes that are the entry to the only paradise I will ever know.