Chapter Twenty
Nikolai
I rouse from sleep with a mound of hair in my face.
Lauren’s hair. It smells fresh, like a bowl of apples and coconuts.
I gently brush it to the side, careful not to wake her. Sunlight doesn’t filter in through the curtain anymore, indicating evening.
I sit up, rejuvenated for what feels like the first time in my life. Like I finally got a restful sleep, one where both eyelids could shut peacefully and forget about the dangers of the outside world.
Lauren’s effect on me is greater than I initially realized.
Sex with her meant something different this time around. We weren’t competing. We were simply being. Together.
Is this what intimacy is supposed to feel like?
You’re going soft, dolboyob.
You have work to do.
It’s true. I have much on my plate today, and with Aslanov lurking out there, only waiting for the right moment to strike, I can’t afford to be sloppy.
I linger where I am for a moment longer, keeping a tight hold on Lauren like the world is about to take her from me. The thought sinks my stomach—that could happen with that mudak Aslanov on the loose.
Holding her in my arms, I feel like I’ve gained myself, not lost it.
From a young age, my father taught me that it was important to never get too involved with another human being.
It will only get you exploited, or worse—you risk losing yourself and your life.
I always thought I wouldn’t have anything to worry about in that department, simply because I never thought it was in my genetics.
I couldn’t be more wrong.
Which means I have to be even more careful. I’m venturing into dangerous, uncharted territory.
I comb Lauren’s silky hair through my fingertips, trying to understand what exactly it is I’m feeling. I have always had a good understanding of myself.
Until now.
Our bodies mold together perfectly. I trail my finger over the curve of her hip, tracing it up to the dip of her waist. Her soft, curved breasts mimic the rhythm of her breathing. To hide her modesty, I lay the comforter over her chest, and then slip out of the covers, leaving her to rest.
Padding downstairs, I step into my office and shut the door. I have no sense of time until I sit down behind my desk and see the numbers at the bottom of the screen flash 6:20 PM.
The air feels different here. Lighter. Something has changed between Lauren and me, and I sensed she felt that too when our bodies were joined earlier.
I pick up my phone from the desk, unable to recall the last time I switched it on, and call Timur.
He picks up after the second ring. “Figured I’d be hearing from you.”
I bring the device to my ear. “I need you to confirm something for me.”
There’s a slight pause. “Let me guess. About Lauren?”
I swipe a hand over my brow. Blyad. I’m tired of denying it. At this point, it’s becoming draining. Timur knows the score. The only person I’m fooling is myself. “Yeah…about that. We had another…encounter.”
“Encounter? Is that what you’re calling sex now?”
I huff out a breath. “It was more than just that.”
There’s another brief pause. Timur knows as well as I do that we rarely talk about this.
He starts to laugh. “I can’t believe you.”
“What?” I ask, sharpening my voice.
“I never thought I’d see the day when you talk about feelings for a woman.”
“Don’t push your luck, pridurok,” I snap, pushing down the urge to tear him a new asshole.
“Alright, alright. Sorry, boss. What is it you need?”
“I want to find out how her mother died and if Aslanov was involved in it all.”
Timur goes quiet, which means he’s thinking. Probably, he’s thinking over Aslanov’s involvement the same way I am. “You know how complicated that is, and I can’t just—”
“I know.” I cut him off. “All I ask is that you look into it.”
Timur releases a sigh. “Alright. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Khoroshiy. Call me if you have anything,” I say, ending the call and tossing the phone on my desk.
I recline in my chair, staring at the wall.
If I’m right about the death of Lauren’s mother being linked to Aslanov, it’s one more reason for the motherfucker to die.
I crack my knuckles and stretch them out.
The man is no longer just lurking in the shadows.
He’s on the hunt, like a nocturnal animal stalking its prey.
He made that obvious the moment he sent someone to take care of Lauren.
I can almost taste his presence on my tongue, and soon, I’ll make sure I’m tasting his blood.
It’s not just about me or the Bratva anymore. It’s about Lauren too. And the child she’s carrying. My child.
The stakes have never been this high, and with a woman in my life, this is unknown territory for me.
But two things are certain.
It’s only a matter of time before Aslanov strikes again.
And when he does, I’ll be there.
And I won’t stop until I’m washing his blood off my hands.