12. Nikola
NIKOLA
I tried—I really did—to do right by Skye. She deserved life outside the mob, but if Sasha and Dante planned to marry her off to a mobster, it would be me and nobody else.
The biggest problem: Dante and Sasha.
Skye once claimed that nobody wore a suit better than her papa, and that she preferred men to wear three-piece suits. It was either that or shirtless men.
She failed to mention her papa was also a hard-core Nikolaev hater.
I could see it in his eyes.
Of course I knew about the beef between him and Sasha that started when Phoenix Leone committed to be a surrogate for my uncle and aunt. This distaste I read in Dante’s eyes would be hard to overcome.
Staring at Dante Leone, my mind whirled as I pondered the ways I could get what I wanted out of my uncle and future father-in-law. Yes, father-in-law. Sometime over the past weeks, I’d decided to lay my cards out and be honest about what I wanted.
And that was Skye—captivating, unpredictable, and utterly impossible to ignore.
Or maybe it wasn’t just her; maybe it was the idea of anyone else having her, the thought of someone else uncovering the layers I was still trying to navigate.
Either way, it didn’t matter. I’d tried to resist her, tried to convince myself that wanting her was reckless, foolish, dangerous.
But in the end, my resolve crumbled spectacularly, leaving me caught between desire and the fear of losing something I never truly had.
And now these two oldies wanted to marry her off to someone else.
“Skye needs a good boy,” Sasha stated, directing his words at me. “She’s a good girl.”
I rolled my eyes. The only difference between a good girl and a bad girl was that good girls were selective about who they would be bad with.
“Skye will marry a sweet boy who won’t be a danger to her,” Dante drawled, his Italian accent bleeding into his words. “She’ll marry someone who’ll worship the ground she walks on and would give his life for her.”
She would be mine—I’d make sure of it. All I needed was patience and the discipline to toe the line, no matter how much I wanted to rush in.
I’d wait for the right moment, bide my time, and when the opportunity came, I wouldn’t let it slip through my fingers. Not exactly my fucking forte. I was better at wreaking havoc and violence. I’d learned it firsthand from my uncle. The results were instant.
Or maybe I just thrived on driving my father crazy. He wanted me to be just like him: responsible, reasonable, and worthy to lead the Nikolaev empire.
“We need something to trump Enrico’s suggestion,” Amon said, making his opinion known for the first time.
“Or… we kill him,” Uncle suggested. He definitely had my vote.
“Skye’s too vulnerable for the harshness of the underworld,” Dante reasoned. “I don’t want to risk any arrangement that will put her in harm’s way.”
I watched him closely. He meant every word.
The irony wasn’t lost on me—how he saw me as the threat when all I’d ever done was go up against the real dangers lurking around her.
I’d kill to keep her safe. The idea of anyone else dragging her into this world made my blood boil, but at the same time, I couldn’t let go. Not now. Not ever.
But I knew if I uttered those words, I’d not only alienate my uncle and Dante, but I’d also risk both of these men barring me any access to her. So, I remained silent.
“We agree to Skye and Amadeo’s arranged marriage but insist on a date far in the future,” Amon, ever the diplomat, recommended.
Something violent spread through my organs like a case of internal frostbite. My irrational side began speaking for me. “Maybe in the next lifetime, when he’s dead and gone.”
“Exactly,” Uncle Sasha agreed. Thankfully he and Dante were both too lost in their own fury about this marriage to notice my jealousy.
“I want Skye to enjoy her freedom,” Dante explained.
Maybe it was stupid, but I went for it again. “Ours could be a marriage only on paper. If she’ll remain in the mafia world, she’d be safer with the Nikolaev name attached to her.”
Uncle Sasha, Dante, and I stared at each other, and I knew the answer even before they uttered it.
A firm, final “Fuck no.”
Goddammit. I’d give her all the freedoms she wished for as long as she had my last name attached to her.
I needed Skye, and I suspected she needed me too.
But if I pushed too hard, I would risk her father and my uncle getting wind of my true feelings and killing me off.
Besides, after witnessing Skye’s panic when handcuffed, I worried about her reaction to my kinkier tendencies.
She was innocent and fragile, despite her brave and independent facade.
So for now, I let it go, but there was no way in fucking hell I’d let them take Skye away from me.
For better or worse, she was mine.