Chapter 21 - Nikolai
The second Dani walks back toward the booth with Vera beside her, something inside me settles, and it’s subtle enough that I almost miss it at first.
Just the sight of her smiling faintly at something Vera says, looking more relaxed than she’s been in days, catches my attention and reminds me that somewhere in all this, moments of normalcy are possible.
I’ve spent so much time lately seeing her exhausted, grieving, angry, and completely overwhelmed that seeing her look even remotely relaxed feels like a victory I didn’t realize I wanted.
Artem notices my attention immediately, which isn’t at all surprising.
The bastard smirks over the rim of his drink, and I ignore him on purpose.
Vera slides back into the booth first, with Dani following more cautiously beside her. Her gaze flicks toward me briefly before settling into something more curious than guarded.
That alone feels like a tell, and thinking about what Vera might’ve said to her makes me sweat a little.
“You survived,” Vera announces dramatically to me, as if speaking with her brother was a trial or something. “Congratulations.”
“Barely.”
Artem snorts quietly while reaching for his jacket. “As entertaining as you all are, I, unfortunately, have actual work to get back to.”
Vera sighs like the thought of having her night out cut short offends her personally. “You’re so boring.”
“Seeing as you’re related to me, you have to deal with it.”
“A tragic reality.”
Despite myself, I huff a quiet laugh before Artem claps a hand briefly against my shoulder before leaning closer just enough to murmur, “I’ll start looking into Malenkov tonight.”
Relief loosens something tight beneath my ribs, and with it comes a sliver of hope that this collaboration will get me one step closer to facing Grigori.
“I owe you.”
“Yeah, you do. But I’ll come to collect when I think of something good.” His gaze flicks toward Danielle meaningfully. “Try not to scare her off before then.”
I glare at him, feeling a bolt of irritation move through me. Why does it always have to be family?
He looks deeply unbothered and chuckles before pulling out a cigarette from his silver case.
Vera rises next, smoothing down her dress before offering Danielle a surprisingly genuine smile. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You too,” Dani says softly. Judging by the warmth in her expression, she means it.
Vera rarely bothers trying with people she dislikes unless the job calls for it, but in this case, she seems genuinely interested. Fortunately, Dani seems at ease around her.
The two of them disappear toward the exit a moment later, leaving the booth quieter than before, and for a brief period, neither of us speaks.
The lounge music hums softly around us while people laugh somewhere near the bar, and the entire city is alive beyond the windows in flickers of gold and neon. I’ve seen and heard it all enough for the novelty of it to be gone, but my attention isn’t on our surroundings anyway.
I look back at her properly and immediately make the mistake of lingering too long.
With the short absence of her while she was with Vera, it hits me all over again just how beautiful she looks tonight.
Since the moment I saw her picture in Arthur’s file, I recognized that Dani’s beauty felt softer and realer somehow. It sneaks up on me when I least expect it, and it certainly doesn’t do my self-control any favors.
She catches me looking, and she lifts a brow at me. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
A smile threatens at the corner of my mouth before I can stop it. This is very dangerous territory.
So instead of getting too lost in the sight of her more agreeable expression, I lean back against the booth seat and gesture toward her mostly empty glass.
“Want another drink?”
The offer clearly surprises her, and she takes a beat to consider it, probably because a few weeks ago, I was emotionally constipated enough to treat our interactions like I was carrying out orders.
Still, after a moment, she nods. “Okay, sure.”
I signal the waitress over, and the drinks arrive quickly after that. For the first time in what feels like forever, the tension between us eases without disappearing entirely, but it feels warmer than hostile tonight.
Dani curls her fingers around her glass thoughtfully while glancing toward the stage below. “Your cousins seem surprisingly normal.”
“They’d probably find that insulting,” I muse, well aware of how they embrace their edges where others might try to hide them.
“I’m serious,” she says, smiling faintly. “I expected…I don’t know. More terrifying, villainous mafia energy or something.”
I snicker quietly to myself. “Don’t sound so disappointed. You got that from Roman already.”
“Fair enough.”
Studying her quietly for a second, my curiosity and paranoia get the best of me. “What did Vera tell you?”
A knowing look crosses her face immediately, and she looks far too satisfied, like Dani already knows she has something on me. “That you’re difficult.”
“She’s dramatic.”
“She also said you disappeared for three days once because Roman scolded you.”
That absolute traitor…
“That’s exaggerated. I told at least one person I was taking a few days off,” I defend myself, well aware that it’s a complete lie.
“So you did disappear,” she points out. “I’m assuming that person wasn’t a sibling.”
I take a slow sip of whiskey instead of answering, watching as her smile widens slightly.
That expression of hers hits me harder than expected, and it’s like the air has been punched out of my chest.
Christ…I’m in trouble.
The realization settles deeper the longer the evening stretches on, because somehow, talking to Danielle is becoming far easier.
Most people outside of my family annoy me, and if I can avoid getting trapped in an unwanted conversation, I’ll do everything in my power to achieve exactly that. But with Dani, it doesn’t feel like I’m itching to get away.
Instead, we drift through conversation naturally after that, speaking about things I normally keep buried beneath layers of habit and the usual defenses.
We touch on Vegas, my brothers, and more childhood stories I haven’t thought about in years, and should probably keep to myself to avoid more future blackmail.
At one point, she laughs so hard at one of Ivan’s old schemes involving a stolen motorcycle and an incredibly angry priest that she nearly spills her drink.
The sound catches me off guard enough that I just stare at her for a second, lost in the way that joyful sound makes my heart feel simultaneously light and heavy at the same time.
I’m not used to this. Sitting across from someone and wanting to keep talking long after the obligation runs out, or voluntarily opening doors inside myself that I usually keep welded shut, regardless of what it costs.
Somewhere between the second drink and the low jazz music drifting through the lounge, Dani asks quietly in the more intimate space, “Were you always this close with your family?”
The question sobers me slightly, and I glance down at the amber liquid in my glass before answering.
“Pretty much. We didn’t really have a choice.”
Her expression softens faintly, as if she might know where this is going.
Before I can stop myself, I add, “My mother died when I was young.”
The very thing I seldom tell anyone else sits between us, and I almost regret saying it immediately.
I don’t talk about my mother. Ever. That has been a closed-off portion of my thoughts and memories for as long as I can remember, and I don’t know why I let it slip.
But Danielle just watches me quietly, waiting for me to say what I need to say, so I continue.
“Back in Russia,” I begin, choosing my words with careful consideration.
“She had been sick for some time after she gave birth to my sister Elena, and there were complications after surgery. The doctors ignored symptoms they shouldn’t have, and by the time anyone realized how bad it was, it was too late. ”
Danielle’s face changes instantly, flooding with understanding and pain, but she lets me continue without interruption.
The movement feels stiff now, but I take a deep breath and continue anyway. “Roman practically raised the rest of us after that.”
It explains more than I mean for it to; why Roman is the way he is, why loyalty means everything in our family, and why medical negligence stirs up something ugly inside me every single time.
Danielle reaches across the table before she seems to fully think better of it, and her fingertips brush lightly against my hand. The contact is brief but gentle, and it conveys more of her genuine empathy than she’ll ever know.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
I look down at her hand against mine, then back at her, and for one terrifying moment, I want to tell her everything. Every ugly detail, all my long-buried fears, and every reason I can’t seem to let her go.
Instead, I just turn my hand slightly beneath hers until our fingers lace together, giving her every chance in the world to pull away, but she doesn’t.
By the time we finally leave the lounge, the uncertainty between us has softened into something warmer and far too appealing.
Vegas glows around us as we step outside, the desert air still vaguely warm despite the late hour.
The city pulses endlessly beneath bright lights and casino signs while distant music spills from rooftops somewhere along the Strip, and it’s guaranteed that every building is full of tourists with nothing better to do.
Danielle walks close beside me toward the SUV waiting at the curb, and the realization that she chose to do that stays with me the entire drive home.
The privacy divider is already raised in the backseat, separating us from the driver, and somewhere between the alcohol humming lightly beneath my skin and the intimacy of the evening, my restraint starts fraying too thin.
Dani sits beside me rather than across from me, close enough that I can smell her perfume and feel every small movement of brushing heat against my skin.
I shouldn’t touch her while my head is already crowded with too many emotions I don’t fully know how to handle, yet it’s almost like this raw vulnerability I’m feeling has brought us closer in a new way, and it makes me want more.
But she turns slightly toward me, her knee brushing mine accidentally, and whatever discipline I had left nearly snaps in half.
“You’re staring again,” she murmurs, eyes softer and so damn captivating. It’s almost like I’ve never seen a woman before.
“Can you blame me?”
Her cheeks flush faintly, and that alone nearly undoes me.
Christ.
I drag a hand slowly over my jaw before speaking again, quieter this time, before I realize just how close to her I am. “I’m too invested in you.”
The honesty surprises even me, and I feel as Dani goes still next to me. “Nikolai—”
“I know,” I interrupt roughly, forcing myself to breathe, but it doesn’t do anything to calm my pulse. “I know I don’t have any right to be.”
Not after the lies, every way I’ve tried to control her, and how this entire situation began. But none of that changes what’s happening inside my chest every time I look at her. Every bit of it is unbelievably selfish, but I never claimed to be a saint, either.
“I don’t want to let you go,” I admit, forcing myself to ignore how the confession hangs heavily in the dim backseat.
Danielle’s breathing catches slightly like she’s having an internal debate with herself, then she shifts toward me first, and that’s all it takes for me to receive the message loud and clear.
I’m kissing her before my brain fully catches up, one hand sliding into her hair while she grabs the front of my shirt and returns it with enough hunger to erase every remaining coherent thought from my head.
The tension between us ignites instantly, and it somehow feels even better than the first time.
Her mouth opens against mine with a soft sound that destroys every ounce of willpower I have left, and I pull her into my lap without thinking, letting my hands settle hard against her waist like she was meant to be there.
She gasps softly against my mouth as the vehicle moves through the busy Vegas streets outside.
“Dangerous girl,” I murmur roughly against her lips, feeling too caught up in her to care about the consequences.
“You started it.”
I almost laugh at that, but then she’s kissing me again, and conversation becomes impossible.