Chapter 23
Shadowbrook Lair—theinner sanctum of the Ophidian Society. Home of the Grand Serpent himself. No way this can go wrong. No way at all.
Composed of politicians, billionaires, and some of the most brilliant minds on the planet, there is no limit to their global power, a fact that should give me pause, only it doesn’t. No amount of money, power, or intelligence can save anyone who dares risk Nikoletta’s life. I”ll skin them alive right there on the pristine marble floor.
We arrive in three vehicles. All bulletproof. All full of armed men. Yet none of them relieve the apprehension building inside me.
I scan the surrounding area. In just seconds, Grigori is at my side doing the same. “My gut’s screaming at me, boss. And you?”
“Yeah. Stay within twenty feet of her the entire night and don’t take your eyes off her for a second.”
He nods and slides me a sidelong glance. “Done.”
I glimpse her exposed back and the dimples on clear display just above her mouthwatering ass. “Keep your eyes from the shoulders up or I’ll hand them to you.”
His lips twitching, a mocking laugh rumbles in his throat. “Is she armed?”
I can’t help but glance down at her thigh. “Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“I strapped the knives to her myself.” Just the thought of her warm skin on the inside of her leg has my cock jerking in my fucking pants.
His hands freeze on the lapels of his tux. “You’re going to get us all killed.”
“Probably.”
He snorts next to me. “Cracking jokes now, boss?”
“Nope.” He’s getting awfully ballsy, knowing it would be frowned upon to slit his throat in elite company.
“Fucking hell.”
“Exactly.” From the corner of my eye, I catch Nikoletta shifting her clutch to her left hand, holding it over the slit of her dress, hiding my name marking her as she climbs her first step.
Mine.
In permanent marker now, but fuck if I didn’t want it tattooed into every intimate place on her body.
She’ll try to scrub it off the minute we get back, her pride driving her to attack her sensitive skin to obliterate my claim. It might fade… but my last name will remain, just as stubborn as I am.
What would she do if she woke up to me looming over her in the middle of the night. Hands gripping her knees, spreading her, my head disappearing between her thighs to trace every single letter with the tip of my tongue?
My lips twitch.
Let the games begin.
Guests draped in designer gowns and tuxedos, women dripping with jewels, make their way up the steps to gather in the grand foyer where they congregate with champagne flutes in their hands and practiced smiles affixed to their mouths.
Everything about the glittering festivities grates on my nerves. As far as I’m concerned, the night already peaked, right about the point I had my face buried between Nikoletta’s soft thighs.
We haven’t even gotten inside and men are drawn to her. Their gaze sweeping over her from head to toe, lingering way too fucking long on her back, their eyes flaring with interest.
Bastards.
My most trusted men accompany me tonight. I left Dimitri behind with Faith, knowing if anything goes wrong, I can count on him to get her and her twins to safety. Grigori, though, he’s always at my side no matter what. He oversees an interesting group of my most intelligent, rather talented killers in Emil, Sasha, Roddick, Isaak, Andrey, Gleb, and Luka.
Maybe they’ll be enough keep me from collecting eyeballs because if these guys don’t fucking knock it off, I’ll stroll out of this motherfucker with my pockets sticky and gratifyingly full, my tux dripping blood, and a satisfied smile on my face.
Roddick stares down the valet, his look clearly dialed to fuck all the way off if you think we’re handing you the keys.
Each vehicle has twenty-six hidden compartments loaded with weapons. I’m sure the leader of the Ophidian Society would only employ the best and only after putting everyone through rigorous checks. I’m also sure I don’t care.
They aren’t my checks, so they don’t count. There’s always a first time to go rogue.
When it comes to Nikoletta, I trust no one.
I never have.
Every scar I carry proves my intuition right.
In his five short years as a member, Nikolaj has earned tremendous respect in the order. He’s the first member to be promoted to Protector as early as on his five-year anniversary.
The way guests greet him, draw him into their conversations, and the cautious whispers they leave in his wake are all a testament to the work he’s done to build alliances.
Nikoletta on his arm exposes her in a way that sets my heart racing while steel bands tighten around my lungs until my chest aches. We’re walking a tightrope with no net, either way we fall—catastrophic. His move is brilliant if it gives our enemies pause at taking a swipe at her. Taking aim at Nikoletta means declaring war with Nikolaj. At the society itself. This will make sure everyone knows it.
But if it goes wrong—no. It can’t. That’s it. It cannot go wrong.
By showing she’s under his protection, we can narrow down the list of culprits when the time comes… because the time will come. Someone will strike, and there’s no guarantee it will come from Maksim, Vlad, or Petrov.
Socially, he’s already leagues ahead of where Maksim peaked. Maksim had no choice but to rule with fear, but fear is fluid. Easily transferable to whoever promises the most pain. But when you have true loyalty based on respect, your supporters take the pain to protect you.
He’s exactly what happens when you’re confident in your abilities but know to leave your ego at the door. Something Maksim and Vlad never have been, nor ever will do.
At the moment, he sticks close to Nikoletta, introducing her to small groups throughout the massive grand foyer. The lingering hot gazes outside had my temper spiking, but now, the brushing of fingers over her shoulder followed by the subtle drag of fingertips down her arm while these men greet her has my blood boiling.
I hear a nasty growl of frustration and look for the threat, only to realize it’s coming from me.
Focus, Malikov.
Chest swelling with labored breaths, I clench my fists and force my gaze away.
I sweep the room and guests, desperate to put this snarling energy into something useful. I already know the floor plan thanks to the set of blueprints Nikolaj secured from a talented little hacker friend of his who likes to dabble in seeing what she can get away with.
Now that I stand here in person, I search the exits to see which are clear and which are obstructed by the entertainment and staff. I make note of how heavily guarded the entry points are and which they roped off.
More than half of the exits are blocked, including the one closest to Nikolaj and Nikoletta where they join a group of his friends, including his best friend and Nikoletta’s first kiss, Logan Rhodes. Her eyes light up when he hands her a glass of champagne and winks.
This fucker.
She settles into an animated discussion with him, her hand resting on the newel post of one of two sweeping staircases curving on either side of the room leading to a crescent-shaped balcony looking over the foyer. Beyond is a wall of windows with a view overlooking the terrace and gardens sloping down the expanse of the property beyond.
My mind goes back to Nikoletta’s journal entry of the couple she watched fucking in a similar setup, discreetly in the open, all but daring the other guests to watch. Taking her up there would be stupid. Not just playing with fire but dousing myself in gasoline and lighting the Zippo myself.
Before I can stop it, the picture of us fills my head. My hand over her mouth, muffling her screams as I pound into her harder. Knowing with every thrust, she’ll only get louder, despite everything I do to quiet her, increasing our risk of getting caught.
She’d pierce me with a cutting glare the entire time. If I’m lucky she’d bite the fuck out of my hand and draw blood. Blood I’d gladly drag down the column of her neck and over the rise of her breasts.
I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose as though I can grab the image and drag it clean from my skull. Throat dry, I all but vibrate with this irrational need to be inside her now, now, now.
My nineteen-year-old goddaughter is aiming to be my downfall if I don’t get a fucking grip on myself. I’m not some horny fucking twenty-year-old for fuck’s sake.
My gaze sweeps over Nikoletta for the dozenth time. My jaw clenches a bit more with every glimpse until I swear my teeth will snap with the force.
Men can’t take their eyes off my woman.
In my head, I expect it. With her shoulders pulled back, the confident tip of her chin, and those eyes of hers glowing like embers of golden fire, she exudes confidence. She not only keeps up with the conversation, but confidently joins in.
Expected or not, I don’t have to like it.
She’s done her homework. Nikolaj must have given her a crash course earlier on the who’s who of the society because she’s talking among the masses like they’re all old friends.
I force myself to stroll the perimeter when all I want to do is bulldoze my way through, noting the amount of steps between exits and notable areas. My men are all taking turns doing the same, making sure three of them stay tight to Nikoletta and Nikolaj at all times.
Bitterness churns through me as I watch her. Each animated word from her crimson lips she shares with everyone but me searing me in my most vulnerable places. Genuine smiles, easy laughter—she just hands them out to whoever looks her in the eye.
All things she used to give me freely.
How the hell will I convince her my feelings have absolutely nothing to do with her mother? This bond, this goddamn ache left from profound longing, goes so far beyond her childish crush and rivalry I had with her father decades ago.
It’s rooted to a place deep inside, as integral to survival as the very blood feeding through my veins.
Nikoletta holds the power. She has me in the palm of her hands. To a degree, she always has, but I saw this connection with her having an expiration date of sorts. Growing up, moving on, and starting a life of her own, distance was all but a foregone conclusion.
It’s the way it’s supposed to be.
But now this bond between us has twisted into something so wildly different than anything I could have imagined. My future, all the roads not taken so I could stay and protect her, they hover at the fringes of possibility.
Taunting. Teasing.
Each one begins and ends with her.
Grigori is right. This road is fraught with landmines. Nikolaj may be leagues beyond his brother and father, but I’m still the man chosen to nurture, protect, and guide Nikoletta, who crossed every line imaginable. I’m still the man he chose to stand at his side and help while he amasses an army to take on his brother and father. What I’ve done will destroy the trust he has in me and will make him question everything he thought he knew. He’ll peel apart every memory of me with her, looking for a predator who groomed her from childhood.
As he should. I’d be disappointed if he didn’t. I would expect no less of a brother who loves her.
What could I possibly do to prove I never once thought of her as anything other than my goddaughter? This tiny human cradled in my hands who had such a huge life waiting for her. The little girl who used to sit perched on the piano while I played for her. The young teenage girl who silently crushed on a boy for six months to the point of absolute lovesick misery until I convinced her to ask him to the Sadie Hawkins dance at their school.
A problem for another day, because first, there’d be nothing to convince Nikolaj of it if I didn’t manage to get it through her stubborn ass that she’s mine. As much as I’m hers. All the pieces were there. Love, explosive chemistry… all marred by one fucked-up comment from a man who, at one time, was supposed to have been my best friend.
A man who used my worst moment to keep me loyal. We never had a real friendship. I see that now. I owed a debt. It took me far too long to realize he’d never consider it paid.
Keeping her bound to me in my safe house is a hollow victory.
An hour in, and my blood boils watching Nikolaj’s friends lean in and greet Nikoletta where she offers them her cheek and collects kisses. I make note of every single one so I can fantasize about carving their faces off their skulls.
Even better if they fuck up and give me the opportunity to bring the fantasy to life. Doesn’t have to be tonight… I can be patient.
My phone vibrates in my pocket with an alert unique to my team. I duck into a quiet corner and swipe the screen.
Grigori
Unexpected guests. Bar, 7 o’clock. Sasha’s gathering intel now.
Me
Looks like I’m drinking tonight.
Grigori
Oh fun. Buzzed boss. As if you weren’t reckless enough lately.
Me
You’re lucky I like you.
Grigori
I’m lucky you need me.
Me
That too.
Grigori
Don’t get dead.
Me
Eyes on Nikoletta. Above the shoulders. Your life for hers. Got it?
Grigori
I’ll keep your girl safe.
Your girl.
The way those words settle inside me makes every single worry plaguing my mind fade away. There’s a way forward. I just have to find it.
The key to these events is looking like any other guest. Smile, wink, leisurely steps so you look like you’re mingling, when really you have a destination in your sights. With the jazz band kicking it up a notch, I just look like a man escaping the dance floor as couples shift from polite greetings to more private conversations in each other’s arms.
My height exposes me most of the time, but at the moment, allows me to monitor the bar where two serious-looking men scan the room, their heads together as they exchange what looks to be intense words, judging by the shrewd look in their eyes and the serious set of their mouths.
Something about the dark-haired one has my nerves pinging. He’s scanning the crowd too fast, with too much interest, searching.
I keep my distance and head to the small bar closest to them, grab a glass of whiskey, and keep to the shadows. The perfect picture of a man who wants to enjoy his drink in peace. I shift bit by bit; it takes about five minutes, but I’m finally in earshot, just in time to see Nikolaj hand Nikoletta off to Logan Rhodes of all fucking people.
With a conspiratorial smile, he spins her onto the dancefloor, her split parting enough that I catch a flash of “ov” on her thigh before he pulls her tight against him, his hand settling on her lower back, his middle finger landing on the one of those fucking back dimples I’m clearly obsessed with.
Possession burns in my gut. For the first time my name is more than just the last name I shared with my father. It’s claiming what’s mine. It’s the guarantee that while she’s dancing with him now, dancing is as far as it will go.
Those letters belong to me. They’re for my eyes and my eyes only.
She aims her biggest smile of the night thus far right up at him; her eyes light up in a way I haven’t seen since… before.
She might as well sink her knife straight into my gut.
Nikolaj catches my attention from where he stands just beyond the band and summons me over with a subtle jerk of his head.
My phone pings in my pocket again, thank fuck, because much more of this and I don’t know if I’ll resist plucking her straight from his arms and hauling her off caveman style.
So much for listening in on the unannounced guests, but I need to make Nikolaj aware of their presence anyway. Making my way to the other side of the band, I settle in next to him and read the screen.
Sasha: Sandy-blond hair-Jameson Voss, Sentinel in the Order. Distant relative of founder Eleanor Voss. Owns a hedge fund firm in Manhattan. Dark hair-his cousin, Foster Voss. Fired from Stein, Clemmons, and Wright 4 months ago. Gambling and cocaine addictions. Seems to have found a way to stave off the worst of his debts.
I’m sure he did. On the edge. Desperate. Who knows to what level he sank to buy time.
Too much of a risk.
“Something up?” Nikolaj asks, never taking his assessing gaze off the crowd.
I take a sip of my whiskey and keep my eyes on the crowd. On Logan. “Two guys, not on the guest list. Jameson Voss checks out. Foster Voss is a messy fucker.”
Nikolaj smiles, keeps his gaze straight ahead, but subtly tips his head. “He doesn’t get near my sister.”
“Agreed.”
He gives his glass a shake, setting the ice rattling. “We don’t need him thinking he has a shot with her and we sure as fuck don’t want her considering him a prospect.”
The hair on the back of my neck prickles. “A prospect. A prospect for what?”
“Marriage.”
One word with all the power to peel my eyeballs from Logan’s hand caressing Nikoletta’s lower back. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He turns to me then, propping a shoulder against the wall. “She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
He glances around, then leans in, dropping his voice low. “She needs protection. More protection than I can give her. There’s one way to get it.”
“And she agreed to this?”
“Not at first, but I told her I’d give her time to make the choice. Introduce her to prospects who could keep her safe. But she can’t fuck around. There’s not a whole hell of a lot I can do to change it, but I can protect her while she chooses.”
Every tactical thought disappears from my head. Swiped away by the knowledge that she knew the whole time why we were coming here. Standing on the riser in the single most revealing gown I’ve ever seen. The flippant smile on her face. The way she practically chirped about going to this party. She knew I’d be watching her pick her forever.
She took glee in the fact.
The blood pounds in my ears. I clench my fists, fighting every single urge pumping through my veins to spin on him.
And now she’s dancing with Rhodes. Her first kiss.
Oh, I don’t fucking think so.
He claps me on the shoulder a couple times, completely oblivious to my blood pressure spiking to stroke level, and grins. “Won’t be long and you’ll be walking her down the aisle. What better way to piss my father off, right?”
If he doesn’t stop talking, I’ll be in the ICU before the night is out.
“Vincent wants to meet in his study for cigars. She’s in good hands with Logan but stick close.”
She’s not in good hands with Logan. There are only two good hands. Mine.“You hate cigars.”
“True, but no reason he can’t have one while we discuss whatever it is he wants to discuss.”
“He wants something?”
“I’m sure of it.” Nikolaj grins. “What better way to get ahead than give it to him?”
Any other time, I’d insist on going with him, but there’s no way I’m leaving her. “He’s the Grand Serpent. What can you possibly do that he can’t do for himself?”
“Get my hands dirty.” He shrugs and drops his glass onto a tray as a waiter passes by. “Plus, there’s one part of New York City he doesn’t control. I have a feeling he knows it.”
“Be careful.”
He slides his hands in his pockets, the absolute picture of calm. “Always.”
The minute he’s gone, I shoot a message to Grigori.
Me
I need Gleb and Roddick on Nikolaj. He’s meeting with St. Clair in the study. They won’t be allowed in, but I want them stationed by the door.
Grigori
Done.
Me
Have Luka stay close to Jameson and Foster. See what he can hear. Make note of anyone they talk to.
Grigori
Want me to stick closer to Nikoletta?
Me
No need.
Grigori
What are you going to do?
Me
Rhodes is looking a little tired. Time to cut in.
Grigori
Bad idea.
Me
Not as bad as what I really want to do.
Grigori
Fuck.
Me
Yup, that’s what I really want to do.
Grigori
The minute I have to start policing your dick, I quit.
I toss back the rest of my drink and make my way through the masses. Just as I approach, Logan spins Nikoletta away and her back collides with my chest, her back dimples now tucked discreetly between our bodies.
Ahh, right where I want them.
Before he can take her back, I slide my arm around her waist and splay my palm over her stomach. “Mind if I cut in?”
She sucks in a breath, clearly not expecting my words to come out so close to the shell of her ear. She opens her mouth, no doubt to turn me down, but Logan speaks first.
“Not at all. I’ll find you in a bit and we’ll pick up where we left off.”
The fuck he will.
He leans in and kisses her cheek while I picture carving his eyeballs out slowly with my Dremel.
The minute he steps away, I find her hand and give it a firm tug, spinning her around to face me before dragging her in so close every inch of us from knee to chest is touching. Spreading my palm dangerously low on her back, I cover both of my back dimples and clasp Nikoletta’s chin, forcing her to look up at me.
Those soft, full breasts rise with her furious breaths. Her sexy molten eyes flash with frustration, knowing she can’t do anything here, but promising future violence. A vicious snarl only we can hear escapes her gritted teeth.
Ah, there she is… my formidable little killer.
“Husband hunting, are we?”