28. Mackenzie
I’min a state of bliss for the entirety of the next day, my thoughts constantly lingering on memories of our time at the lake.
I float through my lessons and keep finding myself smiling as I relive the events of our time out there. My high lasts until early that evening when a knock at my door startles me. I open it, expecting to see Dom, but it’s Kirill. He looks shifty, the way he glances left to right down the hall, as though he feels like he shouldn’t be here.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
I nod and step out of the way, creating space. “Yes, of course.”
He comes into my room and clears his throat, but instead of speaking, he walks to the window and stares out. He’s starting to worry me. This isn’t like him. Kirill is usually direct. This is more Dom behavior. What is he working up to? I wonder if he’s planning another episode with a hairbrush.
Carefully, I close the door behind him.
“Do you want a drink?” I gesture to the mini fridge I have in the corner of my room. It houses a few various sodas and some bottles of water.
He turns to face me and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “No. It’s okay.” He paces a little. “We are friends, no?” he asks suddenly.
“Yes, of course.”
He turns to focus on me, pausing his pacing. “More than friends?”
“Yeeesss,” I say slowly, elongating the word, wondering where this is going.
“You like me?”
I frown. “Of course I like you, Kirill. I wouldn’t do the shit we get up to with a guy I didn’t like.”
He sits on the sofa, his elbows on his knees, his fingers steepled together, and stares at the floor for a long beat. Finally, he lifts his gaze to mine. “Do you like me enough to see yourself with me?”
I’m baffled. “With you how? I already am with you.”
He clears his throat. “Yes, but in a more permanent way.”
“Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”
God, the other Devils won’t like that one bit.
“Yes, but more.”
More? My heart starts to speed up.
“Kirill what is this about?”
“You have someone after you and need protecting.” His voice is formal but forceful. Every word he speaks he sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as me. “This world is not safe for you, and you have a crazy man after you.”
I nod numbly. He’s not wrong, but where the hell is he going with this?
“I can keep you safe.” He stares at me, and there’s a defensiveness in his gaze, a hostility, almost.
It’s as if he’s daring me to deny it. I sense violence simmering beneath the surface of his skin, shouting at me from the overly tight set of his shoulders, and the twitch of the muscle in his cheek.
“Of course you can. All of you can.”
“Yes, all of us. That can continue, after. There’s no need for it to stop so long as we keep it to ourselves.”
He’s lost me now. Totally. “After what, Kirill? You need to stop talking in riddles.”
Sighing, he pushes off the couch and paces again. Jesus, what is it with him today?
“Kirill, will you please tell me what is going on?” My fingers brush over my phone in my pocket, and I’m tempted to take it out and text Dom. Kirill is worrying me.
“I want you to be my wife.” He doesn’t even look at me when he speaks. His gaze is trained out of the window.
Is this a joke? I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d said we were moving to Russia.
Laughter, inappropriate and overwhelming, bubbles up my throat. It bursts past my lips and Kirill’s head whips around, his expression thunderous.
Jesus Christ. He’s serious.
“Oh, it’s funny?” He stalks to me and takes hold of my chin. “I thought you might need some persuasion, but I didn’t expect your derision, Duchess. Perhaps you still are stuck up deep down and think you’re better than us.”
He said us. So, the other Devils know? They’re going along with this? None of this feels right.
“This is agreed, then?” My heart sinks for stupid reasons. I thought they respected me a little more than this. To stitch up some sordid proposal from Kirill with all of their agreement? What possible fucked up reasoning do they have behind this being a good idea? “The three of you have decided I’ll marry you?”
His normally smooth brow creases as he takes in what I am saying, then he shakes his head. “No. They don’t have any clue I am here talking to you. This is me asking.” He thumps himself on his sternum, making a point. “I am the one here asking. They don’t know. I am the one offering to make you mine and keep you safe.”
“Kirill…” I trail off, unsure what to say.
It seems crazy to me. I can’t take one of them without the others. It’s not that I don’t lo—I cut myself off—care about Kirill, but I won’t be the person to come between the three of them. What the hell is he thinking? This will tear them apart.
I remember the text he sent. Is that his intention? Why? Dom and Tino are like brothers to him.
“I can do it,” he insists. “My father, our organization, is the most feared in the world. It makes Nataniele and his men look like children playing at being mafia.” His jaw is set and his shoulders squared back. “My father, Grigoriy Stepanov, is a name who puts the fear of God into anyone who wrongs him. He and his men will keep you safe, and as my bride, you will be our most precious jewel. I will work alongside him, rising to be his second, and you’ll bear us beautiful children.”
What the fuck? I stare at him, a sense of doom and panic rising in me. This can’t be happening.
“I don’t want children for a long time,” I tell him.
Never mind that I don’t want kids right now, not when I’m still one myself, but it’s also not that easy for me with my health issues. I’d need to see my neuro before I even remotely contemplated something like that. I think I’d need a full meds review, plus monitoring during the pregnancy.
I have images of being whisked away to some remote Russian facility and locked away to be used as a breeding machine for the Bratva.
“Not right away, obviously,” he says. “But the fact we can eventually give the Bratva beautiful, strong heirs is a bonus.”
I stare at him. My hands are shaking, and I feel sick at what he is saying. I can’t believe this is even happening. I feel like he’s going to whip around with a smile and a laugh and say ‘Gotcha!’ but there is no sign of that happening. He’s deadly serious. He actually thinks I’d marry him and give him babies. This is so fucked up, and the way he is doing it is shitty.
I straighten my shoulders, lift my chin, and do my best to keep my tone level. “Kirill, I won’t marry you.”
He laughs, the sound hollow and harsh. “You think we have a choice? My father has said he wants this marriage to happen. He wants you to become a part of our family.”
What the hell?
I take my phone out. “We need to talk to the others.”
Kirill slaps it out of my hand, and I yelp in shock. The phone clatters to the floor.
“Don’t fucking call them.” He folds his arms across his massive chest. “Are they here asking for your hand? Are they stepping up to make you theirs? Are they the ones offering you respectability? No, you are just their slutty little cum-doll.”
Anger explodes within me, bright and jarring. How fucking dare he? “You’re the one who has treated me as a receptacle for his cum the most, Kirill. You. Don’t act as if you’re the one who cares now. You only want this because your father ordered it. You don’t want it for any other reason.”
“That’s not true.”
I stare into his beautiful but cold eyes. “Okay. Do you love me?”
“What?”
“Do. You. Love. Me. Me, Kirill. Not your doll, or your Duchess, but me.”
He scowls. “I think I can say that I do.”
“Oh, that’s sooooo romantic. What’s my favorite color?”
He glances around my room as if that can tell him.
“Song?”
Now he looks like he’s going to start breaking things at any moment.
“Okay, I’ll make it easy on you. What’s my favorite food?”
He opens his mouth and closes it again.
“See, Camile knows the answer to at least two of those questions.”
“Camile.” He snorts as if she’s a nobody and of no consequence, and it pushes my rage higher.
“All of you see me as a thing. I think you have feelings for me, and I do for you, but it’s not healthy or normal, and it’s most certainly not what you base a marriage on.”
“I see. This is your answer to me when I come to save your life and your reputation? This disgusting, sneering refusal?”
He snakes his hand into my hair and pulls at my nape, so my head snaps up, forcing me to look at him. His lips crash down on mine, harsh and demanding. Hating myself for it, I whimper into that kiss.
When he breaks it off, we’re both panting.
“You will fucking marry me, Mackenzie. I tried the nice way, and if I have to, I will do it the hard way. I suggest you get your head around this fact.”
Then he lets go of me and stalks to the door. He opens it and then pauses, turning back to me.
“This topic of conversation is paused for now,” he says, “but it’s not over. Oh, and don’t even think of telling the others unless you want to risk getting them killed. My father doesn’t take kindly to people ruining his plans.”
He slams the door behind him.
I pause long enough to scoop my phone back off the floor and check the screen isn’t cracked, then I walk to my bed on shaking legs and collapse onto it. I stare at the screen. I’m dying to call Tino, or Dom, but the warning about starting a war rings in my head. I don’t want to do any such thing. I know what they’re capable of, and I’m scared they’ll end up killing one another.
Still, I need to speak with someone. My head will explode if I don’t. I can’t talk to my mother, obviously, which leaves one person. Camille.
I know she’s going to judge me, because she thinks what I’ve got going on with these guys is crazy. I really need to tell someone about this, though. It’s too much for me to deal with alone.
I’m caught between two awful choices. Doing as I’m told, and not speaking about this with Dom or Tino, which will mean they’ll never trust me again, or telling them and possibly getting somebody killed?
How did I not see this coming? How could I have seen this exact turn of events, though? Honestly, if you had told me one of them would have lost their head in this way, I would have predicted it would be Dom. I’m not sure why, but he’s always seemed the most intense.
I thought staying here at college would be the safest bet, but it’s slowly become the most dangerous. Once more, I entertain the idea of running. Surely to God there has to be something better than this. Now, I feel like a pinball ricocheting around between various men who are all just playing games with me. Sooner or later, I’ll fall down that hole in the game, never to be seen again.
I fire off a text and quickly change. I grab my purse and head to the door. My phone buzzes as I’m halfway down the stairs, and when I look at it, I see the answer from my friend. I smile in relief. Crossing the courtyard, I head toward the cafeteria where I’m going to meet her. At this time of the evening, it will most likely be empty. People are either in their rooms or heading out to the bar. Only a few students tend to sit in the cafeteria in the evening.
I walk into the cafeteria and sigh in relief when I see only three tables are occupied. A sports game is playing on the TV that sits in the back of the room, and the scent of food fills the air. Normally, the smell of fries, onion rings, and burgers would make my stomach rumble, but today it only nauseates me.
I walk toward a table at the far end of the room, one that is hidden away in the shadows. Sitting down in my dark little corner, I pick up a napkin, and without thinking, start tearing it into tiny shreds. I’m working on napkin art number two when someone clears their throat to the right of me.
I turn to see a tall man with dark hair and piercing eyes staring down at me.
“I’m not sure we’ve been formally introduced,” he says.
Holy fuckballs. My life just seems to go from bad to worse.
I pick up an accent. It’s French, I think. I’m sure I have a vague memory of someone telling me the twins are part of the Marseille mafia. So, is this fucker Louis or Mattheo?
At what point did one of the Vipers decide it was the perfect time to come and talk to me? This cannot be my life right now.
I turn and give him a sickly-sweet smile. “I don’t talk to strangers. My momma told me not to.”
He bursts out laughing. “Did she, indeed?” He glances to the door. “Are you meeting Camile?”
I sigh. “Yes. And she really doesn’t like any of you, so I suggest you make yourself scarce before she arrives.”
He smirks. “That’s what she told you, is it?” He leans in close and lowers his voice. “Still, I’d not go with the truth either if I were her. Women get judged for that kind of thing.”
He saunters back to his table, picks up the half empty soda bottle, and swaggers out. A beat later, Camile slides into the seat opposite me. “What the hell did he want? Are you okay?”
I turn to her, and, with the words of the Viper ringing in my ears, simply stare at her.
I don’t know who I can trust. Does anyone in this place ever tell the truth? Are they even capable of it? Was that Viper simply trying to get a reaction out of me, or is my friend doing something with them? I don’t care, but she’s been giving me grief for hanging around with the Devils, so it would be damn hypocritical of her if she were.
Her pretty eyes look so innocent, but she isn’t, is she? Camile grew up in a large, powerful crime family. Everyone here did. That has to warp your morality, right?
These kids weren’t protected from it. Hell, they are all being groomed for it. Lambs to the slaughter of the family business.
“Are you okay?” she asks me again, her expression kind and concerned.
Fuck it, I’m going to tell her what Kirill said, but if she gives me any crap for this, I’ll give her a piece of my mind. I need a friend right now, not a damn lecture.
“Kirill asked me to marry him.” I watch her reactions as the words leave my mouth.
Her lips part and, for a long time, she simply sits there staring at me. Then she bursts out laughing. I watch her in surprise.
“It’s not funny,” I snarl.
“I told you they were crazy,” she says.
“Camile, I need your help.”
“Why?” She laughs again. “Mackenzie, just say no. It’s a ridiculous idea. Just tell him to get lost, and he’ll sulk for a day or two and then get over it.”
“No, you don’t understand. He says I must. He says his father wants it.”
“His father? Grigoriy?”
I nod. “Yes, he wants us to marry, Kirill claims.”
Her face slowly pales.
“What?” I demand.
“Oh, fuck. Mackenzie. This is seriously bad shit.”
My stomach plummets, and I try not to cry as her words hit home.