Chapter 20
Scalding-hotwater pummels my skin from six showerheads. You could have an orgy in this disgustingly ostentatious shower and still have room left over.
Maybe that’s what it was designed for. Konstantin doesn’t strike me as a big ole whore, but then I never would have guessed he only fucked me because he had a boner for my mother, so what do I know.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears threatening to well up. God, will there ever be a day that knowledge doesn’t hurt?
Despite the buffet of options, rainfall, handheld sprayer, or the multiple showerheads hammering me now, nothing washes away traces of him lingering despite the half hour I spend under their spray.
His scent haunts me. The smoke-tinged leather, with a hint of pepper and bergamot, luring me in and pissing me off at every turn. The naive girl who lost her virginity to him—the one who still stupidly wants him, is so fucking hopelessly drawn to the rich, spicy smell.
I want to straddle his lap, tuck my nose along the crook of his neck, and breathe him in. More than that, I long to drag my tongue along his skin and relish the taste of him bursting on my tongue.
Knowing his sounds now has me salivating. Hearing them again last night when he kissed me, his erratic breathing, the desperation in the way he held my face–it took every bit of willpower I had in me to fight the way I wanted him and instead embrace the fury. I crave hearing them again. The growl of a man struggling to hold everything back, followed by a gasp and a groan of surrender. The echoing in my head has me squeezing my thighs together.
I muster all my willpower and try to shove the craving and memories away his smell invokes.
Only his cologne wraps around my childhood memories of him as well. A time when I associated his scent with safety, making the push and pull between betrayal and devotion excruciating.
Resting my forehead against the tiles, I close my eyes and take slow, even breaths through the pain pinching my heart. He devastates me, and still this yearning will never end.
I’ll never shake him.
Not even twenty-four hours into my life sentence of being in close proximity to him, and already, I’m about to go out of my damn mind.
I have no interest in leaving my sanctuary of the shower, but if I spend much longer, he’ll think I’m hiding from him and I can’t live with that.
Sure, a part of me wants to hide, but the other part—the louder part—wants to be in his face at every opportunity until he experiences a fraction of my misery.
Fuck if I know which me I’ll be when I finally make my way out there this morning.
I shut off the water and reach for the plush bath sheet I found in the linen closet. Gathering the terry cloth around my shoulders, I scrub at the ends of my hair since I hadn’t been able to find anything even close to the size of an ordinary towel to wrap the dripping strands in.
Swiping my forearm over the mirror, I choke on the air I draw into my lungs. My gaze locks on Konstantin’s blood still staining my bottom lip. I scrubbed all traces of him from my skin, yet I didn’t touch that spot.
Unable to tear my gaze from his mark, I swipe the spot with the tip of my tongue. The metallic flavor is muted. Subtle. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m sucking my bottom lip into my mouth and scouring every last bit of his flavor remaining on my lip.
Mine.
I’m condemned to him always tasting like he’s mine.
Releasing my lip, my stare lands on the now clean, glistening spot. A profound sadness takes root with his mark gone and stupid tears well in my eyes. Pain moves through me, leaving a pulsing ache in its wake.
I want to succumb to being his. Despite everything, I yearn for it. Even if my pride doesn”t demand I keep my distance from him after his betrayal, my path forward does. Power means controlling my future, demanding respect, upholding consequences for betrayal, even if those consequences leave me bleeding too.
And he left me bleeding more than any of them.
Heart aching to the point breathing became almost impossible, I turn away from my reflection. I grasp for the mundane, hoping one foot in front of the other will take the edge off the fucking despair eating me alive.
In a matter of minutes, I have to be on, immersing myself in the part I need to play, my mask firmly in place.
Digging through my bag, I pass up my favorite dresses and snag a pair of jeans. I love the freedom of a dress. I especially love the access to my knife while wearing one, but right now, with him, a dress leaves me too exposed. A vulnerable feeling that also has me reaching for my cardigan to top it all off. Warm and soothing, I burrow behind the soft knit.
With his kiss still alive in my mind, his taste seared on my tongue, my nerves snap with awareness. Even the caress of the denim along my skin threatens to transport me right back in that crypt where he held my hips as I rocked on his thigh in the dark. Desperate for any part of him he’d let me have.
Let me have…
My back snaps up straight.
That was the stupid, innocent girl in me.
I no longer settle for what men let me have. I take. I seize what I want with as much confidence and force as men do, as much as a Romanoff, making sure they won’t overlook me again.
Tossing my hair up in a messy knot on my head, I take one last look in the mirror, square my shoulders, and prepare to face whatever waits for me outside this room.
I pause at Faith’s door and listen for a moment to her muffled voice on the other side as she sings to Lexi and Alex. From the sounds, she is putting them back to sleep so she won’t be joining us anytime soon.
So much for a buffer.
My fingers itch to turn the handle and slip into the sanctuary of our friendship, but it will only delay the inevitable.
The hallway opens up into a massive living area. Or at least massive last night. Today, Nikolaj’s mood judging by dark eyebrows slashed over narrowed eyes and the hard line of his mouth, shrinks the space to a shoebox.
A toddler shoebox at that.
He lounges on the couch with deceptive ease, but I know that look. He uses it as a tool to keep associates and enemies off-balance.
Like a snake ready to strike, his sharp gaze locks on me. The fingers he’s been drumming on the end table go still.
“Nikolaj.”
He doesn’t know what to do with me. Especially not when I greet him with just his name. The last time he saw me, I was in Paris. A teen girl, drunk on the independence from my family, even if it was a way to punish me and keep me from Konstantin.
We spent four days exploring the Louvre and Monet’s Gardens, followed by a dizzying amount of champagne tours and dining at my favorite places throughout the city. It was the last time I felt a sense of true peace.
Standing before him now, I no longer resemble that girl.
At the time, I had unlimited access to the finest salons and spas, and no end to funds for only the best designer clothes. My only care in the world had been my appearance.
But now, my outfit from head to toe cost me under a hundred dollars. My nails, while neat, are a modest length and bare. My hair hasn’t seen a real salon in a year and a half.
“Lettie.” The affectionate lilt to my nickname brings with it sweet memories of running through the gardens with ice cream melting down our hands in the hot sun. Lazy afternoons of him teaching me to fearlessly let go of the handlebars of my bike and throw my arms up in the air. The first time a boy made me cry calling me a vile name, only to have Nikolaj knock out his two front teeth for the slight.
I force my feet to stay rooted to the floor as the instinct to run up and hug him washes through me. He is the last bit of family I can trust, whatever trust means to a Romanoff, but more than a year has passed and the divide looms wider than ever between us.
Longing fills me until my throat grows thick, choking back the sense of loss. The edge I’ve honed in my time away softens with his use of my nickname.
No path back to that bond exists. We only have whatever connection we build moving forward. The little girl counting on her big brother to pursue justice no longer exists.
I seek justice for myself.
He, no doubt, has a mountain of questions. For the first time in my life, I can’t give him all the answers. Not without detonating a bomb in what is left of our family.
Konstantin strolls in from a hall on the opposite side of the room, his coffee mug tipped to his lips. His gaze swings between us, his expression utterly unreadable.
Uncertainty swirls in my gut. Heightened awareness skitters over my skin as I study them to gauge the silent communication of their eye contact.
The air grows heavy with everything the three of us choose not to say. Destructive secrets. One between Konstantin and me. Likely dozens between Konstantin and Nikolaj forged in the bond they nurtured in the time I’d been away.
Now I stand on the outside looking in when I had always been the one who ultimately drew them together.
With a shake of Konstantin’s head and the tense flex of the muscle in his cheek, he ends his perusal and heads for the island, breaking the spell.
“I take it you’re not getting any ass, big brother? You’re looking grumpy as fuck.” I sail past him behind the armor of snark. Snagging a bottle of water from the fridge, I lock eyes with him over my shoulder. “You should do something about that before it becomes a medical condition.”
He raises one dark eyebrow but makes no move to stand. “The only medical condition I have is the pain permanently lodged in my ass from your antics.”
I drop into the chair across from him and toss one leg over the other. “I’m an adult, and even if I wasn’t, you’re not my father. My antics, as you call them, are none of your concern.”
He launches to his feet then and looms over me, his jaw tight. “When you put me in the position of having to buy your virginity for half a million dollars, it’s my damn concern.”
Pausing with the water bottle halfway to my lips, I tilt my head and focus on the vein next to his temple. “As I recall, Konstantin was the one who bought my virginity.”
“With my money,” Nikolaj growls, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
And there it is, the pulsing vein, just like our father. Nikolaj won’t appreciate the observation for good reason.
From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Konstantin, alert and ready to step in.
“I didn’t ask for either of you to butt in. There were plenty of other buyers.”
I don’t need to see Konstantin’s glare. It takes on a life of its own, tracing over me, promising retribution.
Good, I welcome the chance to make him bleed again.
Agitation rolls off him as he snags his suit jacket off the couch and shrugs it on. “I have to go out. I won’t be long.” His gaze locks on Nikolaj, but I don’t miss the oddly dignified smirk on his face. “You’re on babysitting duty.”
He ends the words with a smug smile. I want to punch it right off his square jaw.
Keep stacking up the transgressions, asshole.
I shoot daggers at his retreating back, Grigori slipping out just behind him. When the door clicks shut and the lock engages, I turn my gaze back to my brother.
“That was chilly,” he says, his brow furrowed, a questioning glance aimed at the door.
“You want me to be polite? Fine, but you two first.” My water becomes my lifeline as I suck down a third of it. Maybe if I keep my mouth full, I won’t say something that will come back later to bite me in the ass.
He tilts his head and cups his hand around the back of his neck, kneading the tension there. His hard eyes soften as his gaze travels over my face. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
“No, you came here to control me. You just didn’t expect me to fight you.” I can practically see him cataloging the changes in me over the past year. Konstantin sees my changes through the eyes of lust. His men, if they note my changes, are wise enough to keep their mouths shut and their faces impassive. Time will tell. I wasn’t exactly focused on them when they charged into the commune.
But Nikolaj, it is as if he’s found two sets of puzzle pieces scrambled in one bag. The pieces of each, similar enough to make it all but impossible to separate them into two piles, but he tries anyway.
“What happened to you?” he asks quietly, a thread of worry creeping into his voice.
“This family happened to me.” I turn to the windows where rain falls at a slant, fat drops spattering the glass, obscuring a whole different world out there, just beyond my reach.
Clear walls give me an unobstructed view, but they are walls just the same.
“This family happened to all of us, Lettie.”
He will not minimize this to just something we go through being Romanoffs. “It’s always different for the vagina.” None of them have any idea what it is like to be a commodity. Even our mother never had to suffer this. She had choices. Two men wanted her, loved her, and she got to choose.
“Don’t make this about gender.”
“I didn’t.” I fight the urge to cross my arms. I have his attention. If I look like I am on the defensive, he’ll dismiss this as nothing more than childish acting out.
I need him to hear me. To see me. I may be back in my cage, but I’ve made the choice. My cage is no longer a cell.
They’ll never find comfort in my confinement again. They’ll learn to never turn their back on me.
If they try to make my cage a prison, I’ll drag every single one of them into that prison with me.
“Our family made this about gender generations ago. Our grandparents, parents, and now you. You just don’t like that I’m not conforming to it.”
Nikolaj all but deflates before dropping back down on the sofa. “Jesus, if I didn’t know better, I’d say some guy did a number on you.”
“Not just one.” But it is just the one who delivered the final blow.
“We can’t escape our legacy, Lettie.”
“You don’t think I know that? I know it better than all of you. I’m the bargaining chip. I know about being trapped better than any of you.”
“I won’t let the Petrovs have you.” His sharp words vibrate with harbored rage. I love him even more for it.
I can’t let him in, but I will secretly covet the little tells in his voice, his mannerisms, proving his love for me. “You can’t stop it.”
“You underestimate me.”
“No, big brother, you underestimate them.” His eyes flash in warning, but I ignore it, knowing he will never act on it with me. He may take a hard line, but he isn’t cruel like Vlad. “They’re driven by their pride and arrogance, and you don’t have a stronghold on the family power yet. They’ll come for me. And even if you manage to protect me the first time, they’ll come for me again. At least if they manage to get me, they’ll get far more than they anticipated. I’ll carve into them just as much as they carve me.”
He hides it well, but I spot the slight wince. The thought of them hurting me, hurts him, whereas Vlad would only find excitement in the prospect.
“What if I have a solution?”
“And what would that be? Marry someone they’re afraid of?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Actually, yes.”
I throw up my hands and huff out a breath of sheer frustration. “How did I know the solution still involved a man in the family pawning me off in marriage? So who are you hoping to tempt with my magic pussy now?”
He jerks back, like he’s just taken a bullet to the chest. “The fuck?”
“Which part of my question did you take exception to? Me comparing you to the other men in our family or my magic pussy?”
“I take exception to all of it, but the magic pussy is what’s going to haunt my nightmares for years to come,” he says as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Good. If I have to suffer, so do you.”
“So what if it was up to you?”
“What’s that?”
“Who you marry.” Intertwining his hands, he steeples his index fingers and taps them against his chin. “Look, there’s no getting around the fact that marrying the right man, one with enough power and influence to instill fear, will protect you. It’s not like we can decide the rules are different, send out a decree, and expect everyone to fall in line. If we can’t change the rules, let’s use them to our advantage. You pick.”
“How do you suppose I do that? The minute the Petrovs know I’m here, the clock is ticking. That doesn’t exactly leave a lot of time for dating.”
“No, but you’re not marrying for love, are you? There are plenty of influential people looking for a mutually beneficial arrangement, instead of love.” He leans forward and props his elbows on his knees, a confident smile spreading on his lips. “As a matter of fact, there’s a party tonight.”
I’d rather chew my tongue clean off than admit his idea has merit so I tamp down the thread of excitement making my heart pump just a little faster with hope.
Drawing up my legs under me, I pick at the frayed edges of my favorite jeans. “Sure, I’ll just put on clean jeans, no problem. Get real, Nikolaj. I have a half-filled duffel bag of casual clothes and split ends. And it takes an army to move me around the city right now. How am I supposed to shop, find a salon at the last minute, and be ready to go by tonight?”
“Leave it to me and I’ll bring the shopping and the salon to you. You don’t have to go anywhere. All you have to do is say yes. So what’ll it be?”
Marriage of necessity, but on my terms. And a chance to distance myself from Konstantin. I swallow the lump in my throat that tells me I’m not as happy with the prospect of that last part as I should be.
No more heated stares. No more stolen kisses. No more impossibly close proximity to someone I want with every fiber of my being yet can’t have.
Maybe I’ll find some peace and these memories will finally fade, taking the worst of the pain with them.
And before I go, Konstantin will have no choice but to watch me. Watch me flirt and watch men make moves, relegating him to a distant bystander as I forge a path without him.
Out of his reach for good.
“Who exactly is going to be at this party of yours?”
“It’s the society… friends, allies, politicians, old money, new money—basically every power player on the East Coast.”
“No mafia?”
“Some, but no one I wouldn’t approve of.” His eyes lock on mine and a bit of my brother slips away before my eyes only to be replaced by the formidable man he’s become. “The Ophidian Society will always overrule the mafia, Nikoletta.”
Konstantin will hate every last minute of this and that holds the most appeal of all. “Deal.”