34. Justine
34
JUSTINE
A s my eyes continue to explore the opulent space surrounding us, I snuggle into Nikolai’s chest. Since my focus was so fixated on Nikolai’s well-being when we first entered this domain hours ago, I never took in its extravagance.
This room is nearly a replica of Nikolai’s room in the Popov mansion. It just has a cozier vibe. The photos of family members scattered between numerous knickknacks stop it from feeling like a hotel room, and the way Nikolai’s shoulders have loosened reveals he’s comfortable here.
“Is this your place?” I ask Nikolai, balancing on my elbow to peer at his spent face.
Sexually satiated is a good look for him.
I hope he likes it, as I plan to make him wear it for many years to come.
He takes a moment to consider my question before answering, “More like a safety net. Vladimir was unaware of this property’s existence. I paid for it with my own money and had the deed filed under an alias he was unaware of.”
My heart rate kicks into overdrive. “So Clark isn’t an actual person?”
He smiles before shaking his head. “No. It was the last name of the person lodging my development application.”
His smile makes me giddy, but not in the way you’re thinking. His earlier anguish has been forgotten, torn from his mind as effectively as his name was shredded from my throat multiple times in the past three hours.
I’m glad my wish to give him a moment of peace was successful. I don’t doubt quiet is a rare commodity for him.
“Can I ask you something?”
I drag my fingertips over his dragon tattoo, hoping my touch will ease the severity of my nosiness. Nikolai doesn’t like being interrogated, but one question hasn’t left my mind for the past two days. After everything we’ve been through, its persistence should mean something, shouldn’t it?
Nikolai locks his eyes with mine to gauge the seriousness of my question. He must see something in them, as he nods not even two seconds later, albeit hesitantly.
“Why didn’t your threat of retribution ever surface for Mr. Fletcher? I read the transcripts from your trial. You were pretty convinced he wouldn’t walk amongst the living for much longer.”
Don’t misinterpret me. I’m glad Nikolai’s quest for revenge never surfaced. If it had, I would have never come to Vegas, which means I would have never met Nikolai. I’m just stunned that years of being raised by the devil didn’t snap his levelheadedness. He was only a boy during his trial, but his actions were those of a man—a mighty and determined man.
I return my cheek to his sweat-slicked chest to ensure he knows exactly whose side I am on. I’m not judging his actions. I simply want to know every aspect of his life: the good and the bad.
While running his hand down my arm, causing the fine hairs to prickle, Nikolai mutters, “Last week wasn’t the first time Carmichael was spared my wrath. I came close a little over ten years ago.”
Since his reply seems unfinished, I lift my head off his chest and sheepishly peer into his eyes. The pulse in my neck twangs when I spot a gleam in his eyes I’ve never seen before. It is the gleam of sorrow.
“What happened?” I ask, incapable of holding back my curiosity for a second longer.
He arches his brow, silently announcing his annoyance at my eagerness. I’m not impatient to discover why Mr. Fletcher evaded Nikolai’s wrath twice. I’m eager to find out what has caused the glint in his eyes. He isn’t overly emotional, so when I get the faintest glimmer outside his usual realm, I must run with it.
“If the last twenty-four hours hasn’t proven to you where my devotion lies, Nikolai, I don’t know what will. If you don’t feel comfortable telling me what happened, don’t. It’s no skin off my back.” I keep my tone low, portraying disinterest. My acting skills are pathetic.
A stretch of silence passes between us. I wouldn’t necessarily say it is uncomfortable, but a peculiar feeling looms in the air. I’m sure Nikolai finds trust hard, but I had hoped our interactions the past few days would have awarded me his faith. I would never do anything to hurt him, much less break his trust.
After a deep sigh that raises his chest high, he asks, “Have you ever met Carmichael’s family?”
Keeping my head glued to his chest so he won’t see my smile, I shake my head. I’m not smiling at his mention of Mr. Fletcher’s family. I’m grinning with glee that I can alter the mindset of a mafia prince— or should I now say king since Vladimir is dead?
Shaking off my confusion, I utter, “Mr. Fletcher and I were more work acquaintances than anything.”
“Not by Carmichael’s choice,” Nikolai grumbles under his breath, revealing the cause of his delay.
He’s worried his confession will swing my opinion of Mr. Fletcher back into a favorable light. He doesn’t need to worry. Unless he’s going to tell me he orchestrated for Mr. Fletcher to jump ship from the DA to the defense, nothing he could say will change my opinion on the matter. What Mr. Fletcher did to Nikolai was wrong—no debate required.
“I know he has four older brothers like me,” I reveal, pushing Nikolai to continue our conversation minus any unnecessary jealousy.
He has no reason to be jealous.
No man could ever steal my attention from him.
Ever.
My persuasive efforts are better than my acting skills, prompting Nikolai to say, “Then you know how far people will go to protect their brothers. Nothing is above a man’s desire to protect the ones he loves.”
The pain in his voice shreds my heart to pieces. Our conversation, however, centers around Mr. Fletcher and how Nikolai’s childhood factors into his story. He didn’t want to become a monster all those years ago. He just didn’t have a choice. He had to hunt or be hunted. He chose to hunt.
Unable to speak, fearing he will hear my voice crack, I nod.
After a deep sigh, Nikolai discloses, “Carmichael used me to protect his brother.”
I wait, praying he will fill in the gaping holes in his story. Thankfully, he doesn’t leave me hanging for long.
“Carmichael’s brother was a gambler, a bad gambler. He was in the hole for millions. When he failed to pay his debt, Vladimir’s men paid him a visit.” He locks his eyes with mine so I can see their honesty before revealing, “They sent Carmichael his finger.”
“Jesus Christ,” I murmur under my breath, unable to stop my words. I like to think I’m well-educated on all parts of Nikolai’s life, but there are some things you can’t study for.
“I didn’t know about Carmichael’s dealings with Vladimir until the day I went to seek retribution for the lies he told.” He smirks, his smile not matching the heavy sentiment in the air. “I didn’t believe him, but for some reason, I left him breathing.” He drops his eyes to mine, the worship in them unmissable. “Now I know why. If I had killed him, I would have never met you. You’re my gift for my atonement.”
I don’t have a chance of concealing my smile, so I set it free. His reply mimics thoughts I was having mere minutes ago. It also proves we are on the same page. We will both stop at nothing to ensure the other is safe and protected.
Leaning over, I press my lips to Nikolai’s. The growl that rolls up his chest stimulates every nerve ending in my body.
“Ah, fuck, woman, your smile is already deadly to my sanity, and then you go and kiss me. You’re supposed to be bringing me back from insanity, not pushing me toward it,” Nikolai utters in Russian, heightening my excitement even more.
“Don’t you know insanity is the definition of fun? People are most creative when they’re insane,” I reply in his native tongue, reminding him of my fluency in Russian.
The smirk tugging his full lips and the thickening of his cock reveal his delight at my reply. They also display I responded as he had hoped. I feel sorry for what Mr. Fletcher and his brother went through, but Nikolai is still the innocent in their exchange.
He was a child who should have been defended, not thrust into a fight he didn’t belong in.
“ Ангел… ” Nikolai moans in a throaty groan when my lips drop from his mouth to his chest.
Locking my eyes with his, I continue my trek to the ultimate prize, encouraged by the lust detonating in his eyes. I never knew I craved power, but the more control he awards me, the more I want.
It is dangerously addictive.
I don’t want the power needed to lead a country. I just want enough to influence the man I’m in love with to see sense through the madness surrounding him.
With the gleam in Nikolai’s eyes brightening with every kiss I press to his skin, I can confidently declare I have that and so much more.
My advancement toward his jutted cock is interrupted when a knock sounds at the door. After grumbling a Russian cuss word under his breath, Nikolai requests for his guest to leave in a manner that leaves no uncertainty of his displeasure. It’s as stern as his mouthwatering cock sitting a mere inch from my mouth.
“Can’t,” says a voice through the door, a distinctively male voice that sounds much like Trey.
I only interacted with Trey for the twenty minutes he watched over me while Nikolai searched the compound for Rory, but his accent is distinctively unique. Unlike his many counterparts, his heritage isn’t Russian. He is British.
“Birds have word of a takeover bid.”
I don’t understand a syllable of Trey’s cryptic message, but Nikolai does. He dives out of bed like he is on a mission while grumbling another Russian cuss word under his breath.
Thrusting his feet into the opening of his jeans, he yanks them up his legs with violence. After ensuring a bed sheet covers every inch of my naked form, he swings open the door. As I had anticipated, Trey is standing on the other side.
Ensuring he doesn’t stoke Nikolai’s anger with more wood, he keeps his eyes glued to his feet. It isn’t because he is scared of Nikolai—although I’m sure a small dash of fear is surging through his veins—it is because the noises coming out of this room the past three hours leave no doubt about how Nikolai and I have occupied our time.
I should be disturbed his men have heard my cries of ecstasy, but for some reason unbeknownst to me, I’m not. I genuinely forget who I am when I’m with Nikolai. Embarrassment, shame, or any other weak confidence slayer are kept at bay when I’m trapped in a Nikolai trance. My self-esteem surges when I am entranced by a mafia prince. It doesn’t diminish.
Pretending I can’t feel greedy heat creeping across the back of my knees, I return my focus to Nikolai and Trey. Worry brews in my gut when I see the concern masking Nikolai’s features. I can’t hear a word they’re speaking, but all the anguish I stripped from Nikolai’s features hardens with every second he interacts with Trey.
“Is everything okay?” I ask Nikolai when he closes the door and heads back in my direction.
“I need you to get dressed,” he responds, not looking at me.
My stomach gurgles violently as I slip off the bed to gather my clothes from the floor.
Nikolai’s movements mimic mine, although his are more constrained. I’m jittering so much I can barely fasten the button on my jeans.
Seeing my struggle, Nikolai gathers my shoes from the floor before aiding me with my clothes. He drags my shirt over my head before pulling my hair from the collar. For the quickest second, flashbacks of the Nikolai I’ve been besieged with the past three hours break through the turmoil engulfing him. He runs the back of his fingers down my inflamed cheek before they drift over my lips.
“No one will take you away from me,” he whispers ever so quietly. “Not even me.”
Denying my chance to reply, he curls his hand around mine and heads for the door. His strides are so long that I must jog to keep up with him.
“I need you to stay here with Trey, and no matter what you hear, you are not to leave this compound,” Nikolai demands, assuring I understand it is an order, not a suggestion.
Tightness spreads across my chest when a member of his crew hands him a weapon similar to the one he was holding when he entered the room I was held hostage in last night.
After checking the chamber to ensure it is loaded, Nikolai slides it into the back waistband of his jeans.
“What’s going on?” I ask anyone listening.
Over three dozen men swarm around us like bees circling a honeypot. All hold weapons, and their faces are as hard-lined as Nikolai’s.
The carefree sentiment lingering in the air when I arrived at this compound nearly four hours ago, has been snuffed, replaced with the horrid scent of battle. Not a drop of blood can be seen, but I’m confident it is the scent of death I am smelling.
“Nikolai, please tell me what’s going on,” I demand, my voice shaking as I follow him into a room full of weapons. When Nikolai continues barking orders at his crew, ignoring me, I shout, “I can’t help you if I’m left in the dark! Tell me what is happening!”
The room falls into silence as shock descends over Nikolai’s men. They aren’t the only ones glowering at me in disbelief. The half-dressed women I spotted floundering around the hot tub earlier are gawking at me with their mouths hanging open and their eyes bugged.
Clearly no one in this room has ever been brave enough to go against Nikolai.
Usually I’d cower from a fight as well, but my interactions with Nikolai the past week have boosted my confidence to an uncontainable level, leaving me free to say, “Please, Nikolai. I want to help.”
His attention shifts to me after telling his men to prepare to leave. The anger in his eyes fades when he spots the sheen glistening in mine. “ Ангел ? — ”
“What’s going on?” I interrupt. An explanation for my tears can wait until four dozen gun-wielding men don’t surround us.
Nikolai’s chest rises and falls two times before he utters, “The Popov compound is moments from being stormed.” His tone is as rough as the expression on his face.
“By whom? If it’s the authorities, I can help. They need a warrant, and don’t even get me started on the number of books I’ll throw at them if they don’t have one.”
Nikolai smiles, pleased by my offer of representation. It isn’t his genuine smile, but with how thick the tension is hanging in the air, I accept it as if it is.
“We aren’t being raided by the police . It’s a rival, unhappy with the consequences of joining a war he didn’t belong in.” His words come out hurried as he races to the entrance where his men are gathered.
I quickly follow him. “What do you mean? What war?”
He signals to a group of men straddling ATVs to move before swinging his eyes back to me. “Vladimir sought help with your kidnapping. My men couldn’t get to Roman without taking down members of their crew. A man lost his son. Now he’s coming to get answers.”
I try to reply to his statement. I try to express that no amount of fighting will give him the answers he wants, but no matter how often I open and close my mouth, nothing but air bubbles come out.
I’m swimming way out of my depth. Mafia takeovers and war games were not covered during my studies, and my brief interaction with Dimitri circled around his family, not rivals set for revenge.
My head snaps to the side when Trey says, “Let me come, Nikolai. Let me speak to Alexei. He just wants to bury his son.”
“No.” The shortness of Nikolai’s reply doesn’t weaken its impact. It was direct and to the point, kickstarting my heart and libido. He straddles the ATV we rode to Clarks earlier, before locking his focus on Trey. “He will kill you, and then he will bury his son. You were acting on my orders, Trey, so the blame for Tristan’s death is on my shoulders, not yours.”
Bile burns my esophagus. If the man storming the Popov compound wants to avenge his son’s death by claiming the life of the man he holds accountable, that means he wants to kill… I can’t say it. I won’t say it.
“Please don’t go,” I beg, my fearful eyes bouncing between Nikolai’s. “ Please.”
I’m on the verge of falling to my knees when he replies, “I have to . These are my men. That makes them my responsibility.”
The honesty in his eyes strengthens the truth in his statement, but it doesn’t stop me from saying, “What about me? I’m your responsibility too. You promised to keep me safe. You can’t do that if you are dead.” A sob muffles my last word.
Acting like he didn’t hear a word I spoke, Nikolai kicks over his ATV before saying, “Keep her safe, Trey. That is your only job. Keep my Ангел safe.”
“Nikolai, please!” I scream when he pulls back on the throttle at the exact moment Trey’s arm wraps around my waist. “Don’t leave me! I love you!”
I fight with all my might to escape Trey when Nikolai’s ATV roars through the pitch-black night. His speed is so out of control that he’s nothing but a speck on the horizon within seconds.
“Let me go!”
I stab my nails into Trey’s arm and throw my legs into his shins, but no matter how much I fight, he holds on tightly, not the least bit deterred by my vicious wailing.
“Nikolai!” I scream at the top of my lungs, my throat raw from the sobs tearing from it.
My panicked cries echo through the dead-quiet space, alerting the women trapped in the far back corner of the compound to my distress. They call out in a similar fashion as they did last night, their screams complemented by their fists banging on the walls of the dorm they’re housed in. They are endeavoring to protect me as fiercely as I protected them last night.
Trey remains holding on tightly, taking my battering with a silence that switches my devastation to anger. I grunt, kick, and wail until my body is covered with a dense layer of sweat and my lungs are relinquished of air.
My efforts are pointless. Trey is too large for me to contend with.
He releases me from his grasp only once the taillights glowing in the distance fade to nothing. I pivot on my heels, my fist slinging out before I’ve stopped to consider the consequences of my actions.
The half-naked women watching our charade with eagle eyes gasp in sync when Trey’s head rockets to the side. The viciousness of my hit even shocks me. Mere minutes ago, I strived to argue that violence solves nothing, but at the first opportunity I have to back that up with action, I lash out with my fists instead of words.
While returning his head to its original position, Trey runs his thumb over the trickle of blood oozing from his left nostril. I blink several times in a row, preparing for him to react to my viciousness with equal aggression.
He does no such thing.
He just peers into my eyes before muttering, “I deserve that… and so much more.”