4. Nikola
NIKOLA
I sensed her the moment she stepped into the clearing.
But like the smart man I was, I stuck to my plan of ignoring her until her infatuation with me ceased to exist.
She was forbidden fruit that I had no intention of tasting again. Ever.
I was trying so hard to do right by her and keep my distance. The only way I could ensure I didn’t cave into her temptation was to stay away, but she was making it so hard.
After our little rendezvous in the club, I’d been more or less successfully avoiding her. Skye, the goddamn pest she was, took that as a challenge and had been flooding me with texts for over two weeks. I would never admit it, but I’d taken to scrolling through them mindlessly throughout my day.
Skye: It’s me, Skye.
Ridiculous of her to think I wouldn’t have her number—I’d known her most of my life for fuck’s sake.
Skye: I still owe you a lesson on how to put a tie on properly.
Skye: Want to go see a movie?
Skye: Okay, that was a dumb question. You aren’t into movies. Want to go to a bar?
At twenty years old, the girl was underage, but I didn’t bother pointing that out. Skye was smart enough to know that she couldn’t get into any bar that I’d be interested in. Not to mention, it wasn’t safe, and I’d rather cut my balls off than put her life in danger.
Skye: We could have a drink?
Skye: Or do you want to do something else? I’m up for whatever.
Skye: I played at the Metropolitan Opera today. The singer was amazing, but I daresay my piano performance was even better. Don’t bother pointing out that I can’t hear—I’m well aware. But I can always judge by the audience if the singer is good or not.
She was right about that. I wasn’t into classical music or opera, but I’d gone to see her performance. Mainly to ensure she was safe, but also to sneak a peek at her.
I wasn’t obsessed with her, and as soon as this invisible threat that lurked around was eliminated, I’d be happy to welcome some normalcy back into my life.
At least that was what I kept telling myself.
The rest of her texts went unanswered, even though I’d been tempted a few times.
Skye: I do love playing piano, although sometimes it puts me in a melancholy mood.
Skye: Why are you being such a dick?
Skye: Can you at least say something… Anything!
Skye: I know you want me, Nikola. I felt it, and if you wait too long, you’ll miss your chance.
Skye: Nikola, talk to me! Or I’ll find someone else who will.
Skye: Gosh, just because we kissed doesn’t mean you have to shut me out. We could still be friends. Whatever.
It took everything in me to remain silent. I’d even considered blocking her. But if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to track her location.
The fact that I was, at this very moment, standing in a pool of blood, a sadistic-looking man smirking at me, was enough of a sign that she was no match for me. Our incompatibility couldn’t be clearer.
Instead, those fucking hearts in her eyes refused to withdraw.
During the chase, we taunted the organ trafficker with the possibility of escape. We had booby traps set up all throughout to ensure the men were thoroughly battered down when we located them. And we always did, because an escape wasn’t possible.
After the chase, we’d dragged the fucker back to the clearing so everyone could witness the swift punishment. Under the light of the moon and flicker of fire, our captive’s face was so bloodied that his identity was barely recognizable. But we knew who he was.
“Just end him already,” Gabriel drawled in a bored tone. “I swear, sometimes you’re like a fucking cat playing with his food.”
I shot him an annoying glare as I punched my victim again. “You mean lion.”
“No, I actually meant a cat.” He took a step back, probably scared blood would splash on his pristine suit. Fucking prima donna. “If he doesn’t have any information for us, he’s useless. Just kill him already.”
“You just want to run to Amara,” I said at the same time Gabriel mumbled something, and I leaned closer to hear him. “What? I can’t hear you, Colombiano. Old age getting to you?”
“It’s your hearing that’s lacking, not mine.” He narrowed his eyes on me. “Where is your shirt again?”
“I got fucking hot.”
“I’m so fucking tired of staring at your nipples. I see them more than any woman’s.”
I scoffed. “Seems you have a lady problem. Besides, stop staring at my nipples. We’re related. It’s creepy.”
“Dios santo, you drive me insane. No matter.” He jerked his chin at the guy in my hold. “Fucking kill him already or I will.”
In his suit, Gabriel looked like he belonged on the runway, but his appearance was deceiving. He could kill easily and swiftly, regardless of whether he wore his typical white three-piece suit. In a fucking forest, nonetheless.
“All in due time, Colombiano.” I did want to get things moving along though, so I pulled the knife from my leg holster and cut the rope binding him to the oak tree.
“For the hundredth time, I was born in the States, just like you, mad Russian.”
“Potato, potahto,” I drawled, reaching for a nearby baseball bat someone left, then swung it against the man’s skull, knocking him unconscious.
“God, you’re annoying,” Gabriel grunted, leisurely leaning against the tree.
I nodded toward the gap in the trees up ahead and started walking, knowing he’d follow. I was finished with this night, and knowing Skye was here only made me more anxious to get home. I needed a shower and to burn these blood- and dirt-stained clothes.
“I might be annoying, but I’m your friend. And as I said when you called me complaining yesterday: if you want to live, you’ll steer clear of the Brennan girl,” I stated matter-of-factly.
He scoffed. “And you’re one to talk?”
My eyes darted—involuntarily—to the five-foot-five spitfire huddled with her friends across the clearing when Gabriel’s chuckle pulled my attention back to him.
“You’re worried about me making it out unscathed? Dude, you might want to take your own advice. At least Amara’s father is reasonable. Skye’s family—” He threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, I just remembered, she’s also part of the Nikolaev family. Yeah, you’re a dead man.”
“I kind of want to kill you now, friend or not,” I muttered.
“I’ll certainly applaud your effort.” Gabriel, like the rest of the guys in our group, was an overconfident prick. No fucking wonder we got along so well. “Seriously, Nikola, think carefully here.”
Annoyance flared in me. “Easier said than done.”
“Why?”
“Well, for starters, she goes to the same school as me.”
“Easily remedied,” he drawled. “Submit that thesis you’ve been dragging your ass on and you’re done.”
We headed out of the clearing and through the forest toward our dorm. The energy coursing through my veins warned me that my night wasn’t over. I was too pumped up, but I knew a ride on my motorcycle would cure that.
I narrowed my eyes. “Then there’s the little matter of her being present at every family function.”
He tilted his chin, tapping it pensively. “Yeah, I can see how that would pose a problem.”
I fished the keys out of my pocket when we got to the parking lot in front of our dorm building as I said in a voice laced with sarcasm, “You don’t fucking say. And here I thought you might actually have some useful advice.”
He didn’t even flinch. “Avoid family functions.”
“That’s the best you got?” I asked incredulously, then scrubbed a hand down my face. “If I do that, I’ll be upsetting my mother.”
“Who knew you were such a softy underneath all that scary exterior?” He laughed.
“You’re lucky we’re friends?—”
“And I’m your uncle.” A detail he never failed to remind me of.
“I fucking hate how incestuous our families feel sometimes,” I muttered as I flipped him the bird, then got on my motorcycle.
Just as I knew it would, the motorcycle ride cleared my head.
Usually, I was of the opinion that nothing could beat riding at supersonic speed, the wind beating at you from all sides. It was the very reason I kept a sports motorcycle here on campus, one in our Siberian residence, and one in New Orleans.
But ever since that cursed night when I kissed Skye against my bike, I couldn’t find quite the same pleasure in riding it. I couldn’t even look at it without thinking about her.
I found myself in front of the dorm Matteo, Gabriel, and I had shared for the past few years. Matteo’s room now sat vacant, seeing as he got hitched and now lived midway between Maryland and New York, maintaining a delicate balance between keeping his in-laws and his own parents happy.
Either way, the campus wasn’t quite the same anymore since Matteo’s departure.
I fished out my cell phone and scrolled past Skye’s messages, pausing at my group chat with the boys.
Me: How’s married life, Matteo?
Gabriel: He’s getting laid every day. How do you think?
Me: Funny, I didn’t know your name was Matteo, Colombiano.
Kostya: Do you two ever stop bickering?
Cassius: I think those two need a life.
Dominico: Obviously they’re not getting laid enough.
Me:
Gabriel:
Kostya: Boo. Is that the only emoji you guys know?
From the corner of my eye, I spotted the bane of my existence.
Skye Leone.
Forgetting all about my phone, I zeroed in on the woman with long dark hair, the one who’d been haunting my thoughts. If I was smart, I’d head straight inside and erase her from my mind.
It turns out, I wasn’t smart at all.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
I couldn’t possibly let her roam around by herself at night, could I?
I stopped in my tracks when I realized she wasn’t alone.
Penelope DiMauro and Amara Brennan flanked Skye, all three dressed as if they didn’t just spend hours out in the woods in the middle of November.
All three wore short minidresses that covered too little and high heels that made them stumble too much.
The three of them got into Amara’s car, giggling and unaware of my presence. They had to be up to no good, sneaking out in the middle of the night.
Besides, a campus-wide curfew was implemented last month: no student was to leave the campus without a bodyguard.
Not only did we have the threat of the organ traffickers, but the FBI was also snooping around.
Special Agent Lloyd, who worked undercover, had been making waves among the traffickers, but not enough to make a dent or protect anyone from the scum.
The straitlaced agent refused to share any intel with anyone in the mafia, but what we’d managed to uncover revealed that the organization that restarted Belles and Mobsters had many more players than we initially thought.
Unfortunately, their identities remained a mystery.
Hence the need for the protection, and Skye was under mine. After all, my uncle had assigned me as her protector four years ago. So I took it upon myself to be Skye’s—and her crazy friends’—bodyguard for tonight.
Mounting the bike once again, I slid my helmet on and waited until they were a distance away before I revved it.
Thirty minutes later, the girls pulled up in front of a building on the outskirts of Connecticut.
It was an upscale neighborhood known for housing lawyers, doctors, and judges, complete with an exclusive yacht club for the rich, pompous assholes who thought themselves almighty but were just plain crooked.
Why would the girls come here?
Another building towered next to the famous yacht club with a discreet sign that read Revelation .
The building's architecture stood out like a relic from another time and place—its towering spires, pointed arches, and intricate stone carvings seemed better suited to a centuries-old European city than the bustling modern landscape around it.
The dark, weathered facade, adorned with stained-glass windows, whispered tales of forgotten histories.
I dug out my phone and typed the name into the search, my gaze darting over the words. Forbidden pleasures. Anything goes. Willing partners.
What the f?—
It was a goddamn sex club.
I lifted my head just as the girls disappeared behind the doors of the club, and I quickly dismounted and went after them.
The door was an inch from shutting in my face when I wedged my combat boot in to stop it.
“The club is by invitation only,” the bouncer warned, eyeing me warily. “And we have a black-tie dress code.”
I scoffed. “But anything goes for the ladies, huh?”
The minidresses the girls were wearing were hardly a black-tie kind of dress code.
He said nothing and attempted to shut the door on me again.
“Not so fast,” I growled. “My friends just went inside, and I’m not leaving unless they leave with me.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t enter wearing…” His eyes skimmed over the leather jacket I’d slung over my bare shoulders. “This.”
I was riding before I saw them and was still in the same clothes that apparently weren't appropriate for this place, and I blamed the girls for that. But something told me this guy would need more convincing. “Thousand bucks and you let me in.”
He shook his head. “I could lose my job.”
“Fifty thousand,” I spat impatiently.
“There is a spare suit on the premises that might be your size. For another ten, you can try it on and then go find your friends.”
“Fine, give me your Zelle number.”
And just like that, I sent sixty grand to the fucker for the pleasure of wearing clothes that felt too tight, threatening to rip at the seams.
But over my dead body would I allow Skye to roam a sex club without protection.