11. Mackenzie
Dom sounded pissedon the phone.
I’m worried World War Three will break out when we get back. I’m already anxious about returning. I still don’t want to see my mom or Nataniele, but I’m happy to be back under Tino’s wing.
A part of me is still ashamed, though. I know Camile is going to judge me for falling back into bed with him. She only knows half the story, and I’ve got no intention of telling her the full truth about the professor and the reason behind me being at Verona Falls in the first place.
I feel safer with him. I can’t shake the memory of hiding in the bathtub, believing the thuds on the door belonged to him. At least with Tino, I’ve got someone I can turn to.
Dom, Kirill, and Tino might act like assholes, but I do believe they will protect what’s theirs, and if I can make them believe I’m their property, they’ll become the shield between me and Professor Paxton Kassell. They are just the sort of domineering, possessive assholes to act that way, and I can use that to my advantage.
Despite what Valentino is probably thinking right now, I haven’t just rolled over and forgiven him. Being with him last night served me well, too, but I won’t let my guard down with him, or any of them, yet—if ever.
Mom is probably going to be angry I’ve left the car sitting in a random motel parking lot, but I don’t really care what she thinks anymore. If she wants the damn car, she can go and get it herself. Or maybe she’ll get Nataniele to send someone to retrieve it.
“You okay?” Tino asks as we pull up to the college’s main entrance.
I suck in a breath. “Yeah, I think so.”
There are a couple of ostentatious looking vehicles parked near the spot Tino has chosen. They look more like tanks than cars, and they are completely black, with blacked out windows, too. I assume they belong to a couple of Nataniele’s friends.
We climb out of the sports car—a bright red Audi R8 with an engine that’s felt like a monster growling beneath me—and Tino goes to the trunk to grab my few meagre belongings. He slams it shut and hooks his arm around my shoulders and then places a kiss to the top of my head.
“Come on, Duchess. I’ve got you.”
I smile up at him gratefully.
We step through the main doors and into the entrance foyer.
I’m shocked to see Dom hurrying down the stairs, though his gait is awkward, as though he’s favoring one side. He gets closer, and I’m able to make out his face. I draw in a sharp breath. His left eye is swollen and black, his lower lip split.
What happened to him? Is this why he’s in such a rush?
He spots us, runs up to me, grabs my chin and looks deep into my eyes. I struggle to look at his poor face, but he doesn’t seem to care about it, or notice it. Perhaps he’s forgotten how he looks.
“Oh, Duchess. So much to talk about. You’re such a fucking naughty girl.” Then he turns to Tino. “You’re fucking dead, asshole. Luckily for you, Kirill might actually be dead if I can’t find my dad.”
“What?” I say in shock. “What do you mean?”
The events of the past week have been so crazy that now I am just rolling with it, punch drunk and dazed. I’d just been worrying about Dom, and now I’m being told it should be Kirill I’m fearful for.
“His father is here, and he’s possibly going to kill him.” He points to a blossoming bruise on his jaw. “The fucker backhanded me.”
Is that who caused his injuries? Kirill’s father? It seems hard to believe. Plus, those injuries look like they’re a day or two old, and they certainly don’t look as though they were caused by someone giving him a slap. It looks more like he’s taken a full beating.
Did his dad do this to him?
“I need to find my dad,” Dom continues.
Tino shakes his head. “Shit, man, we only just got back. We haven’t seen him.”
“I already checked his rooms,” Dom says. “He’s not there.”
Seeing Dom like this frightens me. I can’t remember him ever being so out of control. Even when I’d caught him cutting himself, there had been a reserved kind of violence about him. Now he’s wild-eyed and desperate.
Kirill’s dad wouldn’t actually murder him, would he? His own son?
I remember having the same thought about Nataniele when I’d been in the hospital.
These men are all so fucked up. But then I think about my own parentage and what happened between them, and I realize mine isn’t much better. I’m a part of this madness now.
“What about the dean’s office?” Tino says. “He’s probably there.”
He takes in Dom’s face and the way he’s holding his side and says, “I’ll go. I’ll be faster.”
Tino spins on his heel and sprints down the hallway, leaving Dom and me standing there.
“What happened to your face?” I ask.
“You did, Duchess.”
My jaw falls. “What? I didn’t do that.”
“No, but my dad decided to show me just how much more you’re worth to him than I am.”
My voice drops to a whisper. “That’s not true.”
“You’re calling me a liar now, too?”
I find myself blinking back tears. “No. I just?—”
I don’t even know how I planned to finish that sentence. I reach up and lightly touch my fingers to his jaw, stubble grazing the tips, and then I brush my thumb against the healing split on his lip. He winces slightly and jerks back.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I go to pull my hand away, but he clamps it in place with his own, his big palm covering the back of mine.
“No,” he says. “I liked it.”
Cautiously, I do it again, and this time he parts his lips and his tongue flicks out to wet my thumb. His breath is hot, and his gaze darkens. I sense myself being drawn to him, as though our bodies are magnetized. Why the hell am I so powerless around these men?
I remember my promise to myself, that I will give myself over to them if it means they keep me safe.
I’m still sore from my night with Tino. Being so close to Dom gets everything heated up down there again, and I have to resist the urge to press my body against his and let him take me. Will he like to see the red marks on my ass from where Tino hit me with his belt, or will they make him angry? That little perverse part of me is excited to find out which way he’ll go.
Footsteps hammer down the corridor toward us, and I catch my breath and step back, breaking the spell. This isn’t about me and Dom right now, and it certainly isn’t about sex. Kirill might be hurt. Nataniele appears with Tino close behind.
“What the fuck is going on?” Nataniele demands.
He suddenly spots me there, and blinks. “Oh, Mackenzie. Good to see you’re back. You worried your mother.”
His words are cold, and he looks at me as if I am as welcome as fungus, but at least he’s being civil, which after everything that has happened is saying something.
I shrug. I don’t need or want this to be about me right now.
Dom steps forward. “Kirill’s father is here, in his room. He has some thug with him. He thinks Kirill stole money and is threatening to kill him.”
Nataniele’s gaze narrows on his son’s face. He grabs Dom’s jaw and twists it to get a look at the mark. “Did they do this to you?”
Dom nods.
Nataniele’s eyes darken with anger. I clamp my mouth shut, a part of me wanting to point out all the other marks on Dom’s face, and how much worse they are than the ones the Russians gave him, but I know it won’t do any good. Dom is Nataniele’s son, and in Nataniele’s eyes, it gives him the right to do whatever the hell he wants. Having another man lay a hand on his son is a whole other matter, however. He treats his son like his property, which might go some way to explaining Dom’s total disconnect from normal emotions.
“He did this under my roof?”
Dom nods, not meeting his father’s eye. “Yes, sir.”
“Son of a bitch.”
Nataniele turns and storms up the staircase, taking them two at a time. Dom, Tino, and I all exchange a glance, and then we hurry after him. If Kirill is in danger, then we all want to be there with him. He shouldn’t have to face this alone.
Domenic moves cautiously, but he seems all right—physically, anyway. We rush through the building in Nataniele’s footsteps, until we hear shouting. One of the voices is Russian, though I know it’s not Kirill’s. My stomach twists, and I pray he’s going to be okay.
Two large men, one of whom is unmistakably Kirill’s father, are walking down the corridor toward us. He’s shouting at the man who’s a few paces behind him, gesturing with one hand. The second man has a small mahogany box tucked under one arm. Behind them, at the other end of the corridor, is Kirill. I let out a sigh of relief. He’s still alive. For the moment.
The two men spot us and Nataniele approaching and draw to a halt.
“Mr. Stepanov,” Nataniele says, “what do you think you’re doing, coming onto this property without permission and assaulting my students?”
“I do not need your permission, Rossi,” he spits. “You know how much money I pump into this place. I could buy it outright multiple times over.”
Nataniele folds his arms and regards the other man. “As could many of the parents of the students here, but that doesn’t give you right to come into these premises and hit the students, especially not when one of them is my son.” His tone is low and filled with anger, but somehow he manages to keep his cool.
There are very few times I will ever look back and think that I admired Nataniele in any way, but right now, I do. I can see the man who’s built this place, the one who’s had a clearly successful career, no matter how illegal it might be. Kirill’s father is a scary man, but so is Nataniele. It’s like watching two silverback gorillas come face to face, and having no idea which one is going to win.
Stepanov glances over his shoulder at his friend and says something in Russian. The other man replies and gives a shrug.
“I apologize for hitting your son,” Kirill’s father says, refocusing his attention on Nataniele. “My anger got away from me. I hope you can forgive me. As for Kirill, he and I have spoken, and we’ve come to an agreement. It seems he’d prefer to stay here than return to his homeland, so that’s what he’ll be doing…for the moment, anyway. It isn’t the end of this, however. He has stolen a large sum of money from me, and no matter the reasoning behind it, he still must be punished if it’s to be found that I am out of pocket.”
Kirill lingers, his head down, his hands in his pockets. He’s embarrassed and ashamed, and my heart goes out to him. I want to hold him and tell him he’s got us, but I don’t dare interfere. I can’t risk making things worse, and right now, Kirill is still standing, and it appears as though his father is leaving.
Nataniele nods. “As long as it’s understood that I won’t stand for personal issues being taken out on students underneath this roof. If you have a problem with your son, you deal with it on your own time and on your own turf.”
“I understand.”
I glance back at Tino and Dom with a frown. That isn’t exactly what I wanted him to say. Does that mean if Mr. Stepanov decides to take out more of his anger on Kirill, he’ll simply whisk him back to Russia to do so? If Kirill goes back to Russia, will he ever come back to us?
I can’t imagine the Devils existing without Kirill. His absence would remove some essential part of how they fit together. He might like to party and fight, but there’s also a dark intensity underneath all of that. He’d defend the other two until death, I’m sure of it, but he also knows how to bring them out of whatever black hole they might have fallen into.
I’m positive he’d do the same for me.
The two Russian men push past us without acknowledging our presence, but then the one who looks like a colder, vicious version of Kirill stops. He looks at me and takes hold of my chin, angling my face so he can examine me.
Nataniele makes a sound in the back of his throat, and the man lets go.
“Lovely,” he murmurs. “Would make a good bride.”
The man next to him says something in Russian, and they both walk off, chuckling low and deep.
The interaction deeply unnerves me, but I try not to show it. In fact, we remain silent until they’re out of sight, and then Nataniele looks to Kirill.
“You okay, son?”
Kirill lifts his chin. “Da. Thank you for asking, sir.”
“Of course.”
He glances around at the rest of us, and his gaze lingers on me. “Your mother is going to want to know you’re home and safe. She’s been extremely worried about you. I hope you have no further plans for a similar excursion.”
“No, sir,” I mutter.
I grind my teeth against the urge to tell him to fuck off and take my mother with him, but I know acting like a brat isn’t going to help. I want to find out if whoever Nataniele sent to do the cleanup at the professor’s apartment also reported back that they didn’t find a body. I want to know if Nataniele relayed this information to my mother, and she just let me carry on believing I’d murdered a man.
I have so many questions, but now is not the time. We need to focus on Kirill. He’s hurt, and he needs to know he’s not alone.
My stomach twists with guilt at the fact I’d run without telling any of them. Then I immediately pull myself up short again. I remember what they did at the wedding, how they humiliated me. They might try to make out that they were only revealing my mother and Nataniele for the people they were, but ultimately, they did it to hurt me—to make both me and my mother leave.
They hadn’t wanted me here, and that still hurts like fuck.
No matter what they say, using their pretty words and hot caresses and intense kisses, I will serve myself well to remember that.
Even though I know the truth—or at least I hope I do now—I’m no closer to being free. While it’s a relief to know I’m not going to be arrested and spend years in prison, now I know that Paxton is out there somewhere, and I’m fearful I might pay with my life instead.