Chapter Seventeen
Lauren
“Do you have him?” Nikolai asks, speaking on the phone to someone.
Probably one of his Bratva thugs.
He nods in response to whatever the person on the other end says. “Khoroshiy. Incinerate the body and clean up the scene… Da. No loose ends. Spasibo.” He ends the call and turns back to me, watching.
“What?”
“You are a nice addition to my couch.”
I level him with a steady look. I still can’t believe what just happened.
He just murdered a guy who was about to murder me, and now here I am, I’m sitting on his couch, trying to make sense of it all.
As for Nikolai, he’s clearing up the evidence, like it’s just another day at work.
But then again, what else can you expect from a Russian mobster?
I bring my legs up onto the couch and settle into the throw cushions. I must give it to him—his penthouse is state-of-the-art. I expected nothing less, remembering his estate outside of Atlanta where Sophia and Timur got married.
Much like the estate, though, everything is too big.
There’s too much space that no amount of deluxe decor could fill.
The windows are also enormous, extending all the way from the carpet up to the second floor of the apartment.
We’re high up in the sky, maybe so far up that if I were to smash one of the panes, I’d struggle to breathe from the limited amount of oxygen.
City lights twinkle beyond the windows. Everything seems much more peaceful up here. But the peace is short-lived.
I look away from the window and settle back into the couch, exhaustion weighing me down from earlier today. From retrieving secret files from Father’s computer to almost being suffocated, I feel like I could pass out for the next twenty-four hours.
I can’t afford to rest, though.
All I want to do is go back to my own apartment and get away from the harsh realities of the world for a minute, but I can’t.
Not tonight, anyway. Nikolai just saved my life.
I can’t ignore that. If it wasn’t for him, it would be my lifeless body decaying in that alleyway. My body being incinerated.
It seems there’s another force involved in all of this.
It would explain why Nikolai has been so tense lately.
He heads into the kitchen and pours some water, handing me a glass. I swish it around, examining the bubbles.
Sparkling on tap? Again, I expected nothing less.
He huffs and takes a seat opposite me, sitting forward with his hands linked between spread legs. “Talk. Why won’t you back down?”
I don’t like how silent this place is. How it’s just his voice and nothing else. No traffic sounds. No nothing. He wears a different suit now—navy.
“You seem to have an endless supply of expensive suits.”
“Answer the question,” he says firmly.
I press my lips together. I’m not in my apartment anymore. This is his territory now. I sigh, resenting how out of control I feel, sitting on his couch, drinking his water.
“Why does it matter to you?”
“Because you’re making this my problem.”
“I never asked you to get involved.”
“I didn’t have a choice.” Something flickers in his gaze when he says those words.
I stare at him and he stares at me. “Thank you,” I say quietly.
He tilts his head slightly.
“For… you know. What you did back there.” I don’t want to say more than I need to. His ego doesn’t need inflating.
Nikolai nods, his jaw tense. “You can thank me by being honest with me.” He narrows his eyes. “Is this still about your mother?”
I sense he already knows it’s not just about her anymore. It’s about my father too, but actually admitting this feels different. I don’t know an awful lot about the Bratva, but I do know that they are good at manipulating people. Amongst other things that are morally wrong.
That’s why I’m confused when I look into Nikolai’s eyes.
He looks curious more than anything, like he’s actually interested in what I have to say.
Earlier in the alleyway, he looked angry, like he was a man not to be messed with, but now he looks completely different.
The soft lamp light paints him differently, like he’s not just a cold-blooded killer—he’s human, too.
I sigh, deciding to respond to his question.
The man just saved my life. Besides, it’s starting to look like I have no choice but to trust him.
“My mom… she was killed four years ago. Nobody knows why. Everybody just wants to brush it under the rug, even my father. At first, I thought that was because it was too much of an emotional burden for him and that he didn’t want to deal with the grief, but it’s been years and he just keeps going about his business the same way he always has.
I work with the man five days a week and I haven’t noticed one slip-up.
Not one moment of vulnerability.” I pause, realizing that I haven’t actually spoken to anyone about this before, not even the therapist who tried to help me process the grief.
Somehow, Nikolai’s presence seems more comforting than a professional’s.
“I had a counsellor because I was the opposite—the grief was too much for me to bear alone. She explained that the reason I was so desperate to find out how my mother died was because I was chasing closure.” I shake my head.
“She was wrong. It’s more than just closure.
She deserved better. To be commemorated.
There wasn’t even a service. They just cremated her body and forgot about the whole thing. I didn’t even get to see her ashes.”
Probably remembering his earlier conversation on the phone about incineration, Nikolai’s jawline twitches. He keeps the same expression, but I see something change in his eyes.
“My mother was killed ten years ago.”
My heart skips a beat and I find myself leaning forward, shocked by his words. This isn’t Nikolai trying to make the conversation about himself. This is him opening up. Trusting me with a personal piece of information.
I stare at him, processing this. Maybe we’re more alike than I realized.
Sure, he’s a criminal. A mobster. A killer.
Could he be more than that?
Could he also be a human being, who has witnessed pain just like the rest of us? Just like I have…
Once again, I feel that inexplicable pull towards him, one even greater than before. But it’s not just sexual this time. It’s something more, something that goes deeper.
“I’m sorry,” is all I manage to say. My voice comes out quiet but steady.
Nikolai continues. “My father had enemies. They wanted to hurt him. So, they killed her.” He shrugs. “Not like it worked. My father’s true colors shone brighter than a rainbow after my mother died. He didn’t care much.”
My heart judders in my chest again.
“Is your father still alive?”
Nikolai shakes his head. “He got caught up in something. Happens in the Bratva.”
A shooting pain slices through my chest.
Oh my God.
He got caught up in something.
Happens in the Bratva…
Because you’re making this my problem now…
My breathing becomes shallow.
Have I put Nikolai’s life at stake?
I never thought about the possibility of that.
I was so blinded by my own goal that I never considered what my actions might cause for other people.
I have never thought about what might happen after I give birth to our child, but it’s only occurring to me now that I might not need to push Nikolai away—come nine months, and he might be dead in his grave.
“I’m… I don’t know what to say,” I mumble. “I’m… sorry.” I know I’m repeating myself, but I really don’t know what else I could tell him—both for what happened to his mother, and for the problems I brought to his doorstep.
I pick up the glass and take a sip of water, suddenly aware of how thirsty I am.
“I know what you’re going through,” he says. “And I can help you if you just tell me what you have found so far.”
I look down at my feet. My fingers brush against the USB stick still sitting in my blouse pocket.
I find myself biting my lip, still unsure whether I should trust him or not.
I could tell him about the names—Sentinel International and R.
Aslanov found in one of my father’s encrypted folders, but…
should I? Let’s face it, I’m out of my depth here.
This is the freaking Pakhan, I’m talking to.
The Bratva boss. No matter the effect he has on me, no matter the connection we have, he’s still the most dangerous person I’ve ever encountered.
I remain quiet for now. “All I know is that my father is not an angel. And… that maybe… the death of my mother is a downstream consequence of something he did.”
Nikolai fixes his eyes on my face, studying me like he’s trying to piece something together. God, those ocean blue eyes could move mountains. It’s no wonder I’m so drawn to him.
“Why are you looking at me like that? What are you not telling me?”
Nikolai swipes a hand over his chin. “I know who is responsible for my mother’s death.”
“You do?”
“Da. And I’m wondering if the same bastard could be responsible for yours.”