Chapter 28 Mikail #2
I nod and push through the onslaught of feelings. “Away from this life, from me, you’ll be free.”
Tears well in her eyes, decimating me. “Free from you? Oh my Mika, I might have done the stupidest thing possible, but not even death could free me of you.”
It takes every bit of strength to remain firm. “You’re confused. That’s all.”
“And stop telling me how I feel,” she snaps.
“You were pretty determined to end us,” I grit out.
“You know damn well why I did that.”
“No, I don’t fucking know why.”
She stabs a finger into my chest as if wanting to reach my heart. “Because of my brother. To keep you alive because I could never live if you were gone. And not even two days later, I give in,” she sighs.
Stay fucking resolute. We reach her room, and the internal war my heart and mind wage ceases.
“You’re confused,” I say like a broken record player.
I must focus on that. I put her chance to leave at risk once, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.
She clutches the lapels of my jacket and, lifting on her toes, she brings her mouth to mine. “Are you too blind to see, you stupid man, that I love you more than life, freedom, sanity itself?”
Her words cause an earthquake inside me, shaking me to my core. “Go to bed.”
She blinks, incredulity twisting her features. “That’s your answer to my declaration?”
My body strains to the point of coming undone with one touch. “Two days ago, you were determined to break up. What should I believe?”
She slips out of my hold and pushes at my chest. “You’re calling me immature? That I don’t know what I want? Then, fuck you, Mika, because I know who I have loved and wanted since before I could even quantify that.”
She storms into her room, and I follow her inside just to make sure she’s fine.
She thrusts her arm out toward the door. “Leave.”
“I won’t bother you again,” I assure her.
“Should I thank you for that?” she shouts, holding her head between her palms.
“Stop being a brat,” I groan, raking a hand through my hair, not fucking knowing what to do.
She crosses her arms over her chest, jerking her chin at me. “I can be whatever the fuck I want. I don’t answer to you.”
The pose of defiance, coupled with her eyes flashing with rebellion, strikes me, and my palm itches to meet that perky ass of hers.
Instead, I grip the flimsy rope of control not to show her how she owns me.
I walk away, needing to set her free so she can fly away from my gilded cage. Escape my greedy talons that would otherwise sink into her flesh and never let her go.
“You’re leaving me?” she whispers, sounding broken.
“You left me, baby girl. It’s for the better.”
She cries out to me, her despair cutting my heart. The sliced pieces fall to the ground with each step I take. Don’t turn around. Don’t you fucking dare ruin her life more than you have done.
Dazed, I climb into my car and drive to the club and follow my plan.
Work. Fight. Drink.
The first one is quickly completed. Competent employees are hard to find, but mine are fixers.
Shit must hit the fan for them to bring me bad news.
I reward excellence. That’s another reason my people are loyal.
Plus, I have something none of them possess.
Cruelty. Because just as I reward loyalty, I punish betrayal severely.
The fighting used to bring me a bit of comfort. For a few minutes, I could forget every fucking thing, trying to expunge my craving for her.
I fight as if I can pummel the space-time dimension and return to before the events of the last few days.
Three men lay bloody and limp in the cage. I stand above them, blood dripping from my knuckles, sweat covering my torso, feeling nothing.
I expel a long breath coated in despondency. Not even fighting works anymore, because she has taken over even that modicum of peace.
I don’t bother showering as I slip a black robe on and head back to the office.
Pouring myself a glass of vodka, the contents slosh around, vibrating in the rhythm of the music’s beat. I toss it back, groaning. Not even all the alcohol in the world could drown her out. Not even the loudest music could silence her call.
This club provides everything one can fantasize about. Drugs, exclusive parties, gambling, sex.
The compartments are so well hidden, you could never find your way without an invitation. The members are vetted to avoid problems, and it helps with potential blackmail material when needed.
Nothing is free in this world. That’s why I wanted to be above the system, so I could make my own rules. I am the king of my empire. What I say goes.
I bring the glass back to my lips. King of regret sounds fucking right.
Glancing at my watch, I see it’s eight in the morning, and I haven’t slept at all.
And I am on my second bottle of vodka.
When the elevator doors slide open, my jaw hardens, knowing who would come without me being informed first.
Enzo steps inside, frowning at me.
“I’m fine,” I slur.
Layers of worry line in his eyes. “I can see how not fine you are. I’ve been patient. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
He glares at me, aware I am lying. Trust equals our bond. Without it, peril awaits in our world.
Not that I deserve his trust, but she’s my only weakness.
“I would die for you, asshole.” I remind him.
He strides inside, cocking his head as if wanting to dig inside me and find the root of my problem. “That’s not what I asked.”
“Shouldn’t you be ecstatic that you have every fucking thing you’ve ever wished for?”
“So, who the fuck do you want and can’t have? Tell me,” he urges, his eyes boring into mine.
I open my mouth, the name just at the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to say it. It’s too late. I squeeze my eyes shut as if to lock my feelings in.
“Come on. I dare you. Fucking tell me it’s my sister.”
No man could love her more, be better for her than me, yet the asshole doesn’t care about that. What does it say about me if my fucking best friend thinks I am not good enough for her.
“What if it’s her? I didn’t forbid you to be with mine.” I snap.
“Don’t play this game, fucker,” he says, voice dropping to a glacial tone that I half expect some frost to layer my office.
“Game?” I shake my head, blowing a harsh breath out. “Me loving her is not a fucking game.”
“Don’t,” he grits out as if giving me a way out.
I jerk my head toward the elevator. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
“If you ever have the guts to tell that to my face again when you’re sober, tell me first what happened.”
“Do you think you could actually kill me?” I challenge, done with living, apparently.
“If we don’t have complete trust and loyalty, then we have fucking nothing,” he says through gritted teeth, and marches straight for the elevator.
“I would die for you. But I’ve lived for her,” I confess, not bothering to care any longer.
The elevator doors slide shut, but not before he slants me another glare. “Sober the fuck up.”
Knowing him, he will try to salvage our brotherhood by putting it on my drunk ass.
But no, this thing—my love, soaked in obsession and coated with madness, crawls out of me, wanting to be in the open.
And sooner rather than later, it will blow up in my damn face.