Taken

Chapter Twenty One

Nikolai

T he room feels different now—it’s quieter—but in the best way possible.

A few weeks ago, we broke down a wall in our wing, connecting two rooms into one big space for the three of us.

I didn’t realise how much we all needed that until it was done.

It’s ours now, completely and undeniably ours.

Our bed sits in the centre of the room, large and inviting, as selected by Chiara herself.

The linens are soft, mixtures of whites and pale blues that are peaceful, calming too.

The new wardrobe is massive, taking up one entire wall, and a vanity has been placed near the windows.

Every single thing in this room of ours has a woman’s touch to it.

It’s subtle—a knitted throw blanket, soft pillows, a vase full of fresh flowers to bathe in the soft morning light—but it’s enough to have changed this space from something cold into something comfortable.

And she is here too.

Chiara is still asleep, curled up on our bed, relaxing. A small frown plays on her lips, one I now know so well, but it softens as she breathes out through her mouth. Her hair is spread all around her, and the way her skin glows under the soft light of our room is something I’ll never get over.

She looks like an angel.

I can’t help but watch her sleeping.

It’s hypnotising, the way she breathes, the steady rise and fall of her chest.

She’s completely at peace like this.

I’m so lost in her, I don’t even notice as Mikhail steps out of the bathroom until he clears his throat, drawing my attention.

I glance over at him, seeing him dry his hair with a towel, his expression unreadable as his eyes move to her, in the exactly same way that mine do.

“She’s beautiful.”

He says quietly.

“She is.”

I agree.

Together, Mikhail and I watch Chiara for a moment, taking in the sight of her as she lays there, unaware of the two of us admiring her from the foot of our bed.

I glance over at Mikhail, spotting the tenderness in his gaze that makes something inside me tighten.

After everything I’ve now found out…after everything that has happened to my brother…things have changed.

I look out for him a whole lot more now.

I should have been doing it right from the start.

Chiara shifts slightly, and I look back at her.

I find myself holding my breath, watching her face for any signs that she’ll wake up, but there are none.

She remains asleep, so still and so peaceful in that bed of ours.

Mikhail stalks forward, reaching out to brush his fingertips lightly against her arms. He traces the curve of her shoulders, dragging his fingers all along her soft skin.

I watch Mikhail as he does, and for a second, I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing that I am.

She. Is. Ours.

My brother finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I never thought we would get here.”

I raise an eyebrow as our gazes meet.

“No?”

He shakes his head.

“No. Not like this. Not after everything that happened.”

Ah.

I know what he means.

I allow a beat to pass before I speak again.

“Do you think she’ll really be happy with us?”

I ask Mikhail quietly.

He only shrugs, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“I hope so. And if she’s not, we’ll make sure that she’s happy. Always. Forever.”

I nod in agreement, glancing back at her.

The peacefulness of this moment lingers, and I realise that despite everything—the past, the history, the secrets—this is the way it was always meant to be.

Together, Mikhail and I leave the room, silently closing the doors behind us as we make our way down the hallway. The quiet of our house envelopes us, the only sound being the soft sound of our footsteps against the floor.

Mikhail breaks the silence first.

“Do you ever think about how…different things are now?”

I glance over at him, meeting his eyes briefly before looking ahead once again.

“All the time.” I admit. “We never planned for any of this to happen, brat, but now that she’s ours…”

He releases a heavy breath, nodding as we turn from our wing into the main hallway now.

“Chiara is truly ours now, in every way that matters.”

I smile to myself, knowing it’s true.

She accepts us now, more than she ever did when she was first taken, and she welcomes us both with open arms.

“We won’t allow anybody to take her away from us. Not now, not ever.”

Mikhail nods, his lips curving into a small smile.

This is real, what my brother and I have built together.

It’s more than just a bond; it’s our lives, intertwined with hers.

There’s no turning back now.

Once we reach our father’s office, we both step inside, shutting the door behind us.

He looks up at us at once.

His gaze is sharp, as always, but there’s something softer there too.

Although he doesn’t say it outright, Mikhail and I see the approval in his eyes.

“You should see how she’s adjusting.” My brother says. “How happy she is, now that we’ve made her ours.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back into his chair, his expression unreadable as Mikhail and I take our seats across from him.

“I see that, my sons, but how long do you think this will last? It’s not always easy making a woman yours, and keeping her happy too.”

There’s a flicker of something across his face—concern, perhaps—but I keep my own face neutral.

“It will last as long as we make it last, and we will keep her happy. Always. Forever. She's ours, and that’s all that matters.”

Mikhail nods beside me.

“Though the circumstances weren’t ideal, we’ve built something real with her, and nothing is going to destroy it. Not anybody. Not anything.”

Our father looks at us for a long moment, then he gives us both a short nod.

“Good. Make sure you boys keep it that way.”

We don’t need to say anything else.

The look that he gives us now is different.

It’s not only the look of a father protecting his children; it’s the look of a man who understands what it means to fight for what is his.

To fight for her.

For a moment, we all sit like that in silence.

Our father's gaze softens slightly as he speaks again, but this time, his voice cracks a little.

It’s subtle, but I catch it, and so does Mikhail.

We glance over at each other briefly, aware of the emotions that are behind our father’s words.

He’s talking about her.

Our little sister.

“Alessandro showed me a photo of her.” He murmurs softly.

“She looks so much like her mother. Pretty. Smart. Strong.” He pauses, steadying himself.

“I already know she carries herself like the way her mother did. It’s hard to stop myself from thinking of the woman she could have been if she was here with us, raised with two protective older brothers, a loving mother, and a proud father. ”

The mention of mother makes my jaw tighten.

I glance over at Mikhail, noticing the way his face has changed ever so slightly, and I know that even though months have passed since the truth came to light, the wounds are still there.

Our mother; the woman who caused all of us so much pain…

She still haunts us, even from the grave.

I don’t need to say anything to my brother—I can feel his discomfort.

That whore of a woman drugged my brother, then dragged his body into a bathtub, hoping to kill him by drowning him.

I didn’t speak to our father for a week straight after he finally revealed all the details, telling me, and only me, how bad Mikhail’s state really was.

My brother has no idea about the effects it had on him, and I’m guessing it’s his brain’s way of protecting himself, because he still hasn’t asked either one of us about his time at the hospital yet.

And every time I think about the things my brother had to endure at the hands of that woman…

I force myself to breathe out, to look at my brother, and to see that he is alive and well.

If I was in New York, she wouldn’t have dared.

But she was cunning, an evil cunt, and not only did she want to ruin us by murdering my brother, she wanted to humiliate him in a way that made it look like a suicide.

Like my brother wasn’t able to handle the pressure of being inducted.

Like death was the only way out for him.

Even now, I hate my father for not bringing me home from Russia when it happened.

At that moment, I was sent there as part of my training.

I had no contact with our father, or with Mikhail during my stay there, so I thought that when I returned here, and Mikhail wasn’t in contact with me, he had gone to Russia to complete his training too.

I don’t know why I didn’t question it more.

I should have known better.

The past still lingers, even though we’ve moved on.

I turn back to face our father, changing the subject before things can become any deeper.

“Do you really give him your approval to marry her?”

I ask him, my voice steady.

I’m not sure where I stand on the matter, but I need to know our father’s thoughts.

Even though she wasn’t raised alongside us, she is our little sister after all.

And Alessandro is the Don.

Does she even understand what that means?

Our father raises an eyebrow at me, clearly surprised by the question.

We haven’t spoken much about her.

He leans back further into his chair, folding his arms across his chest as his eyes flicker to the side, thinking.

“Alessandro is a good man.” He says slowly, his voice much more firm now.

“We have had our differences, but he has always stood in our corner. He has treated my daughter well, and he has been looking out for her since the moment she was sent away. And though he doesn’t say it directly, I know there’s something there between them.

I see it in his actions. He loves her, in his own way, and he will protect her, like he always has. I trust him to keep her safe.”

I feel the weight of his words sitting heavily on my chest.

I look over at Mikhail again, knowing that we’re thinking the same thing.

Love.

It’s a powerful thing.

I look back to our father, and I realise that he’s waiting for our responses.

Mikhail nods first, breaking the silence.

“As long as she’s happy, we’ll have to accept it. It’s her life, after all, not ours.”