Chapter 24
VIKTOR
“I think it’s probably best if we go to my mom’s,” Vera says over coffee the next day. “She’s supposed to be getting back from her trip today and will be able to go over the final guest list.”
“I think that's a good idea. Have you asked Lydia?”
“No,” Vera says, frowning. “I thought she was with you.” I look around the room as if she might suddenly materialize out of thin air. Of course she isn't here.
I would know.
Where the hell is she?
“Supposed to?” Nikko says with a frown from the couch.
“Vera, I thought she was with you,” I snap. “Where is she?” The next thing I know, Nikko is in my face. “Talk to my wife that way again,” he snarls.
I shove him back. “Step down, brother.”
“Boys, boys, settle down,” Lydia says, coming around the corner. “What the hell is going on?”
“Prince Charming was losing his loving mind because he couldn't find you,” Nikko retorts.
After what happened last night, I half expected her to try to escape. Not that she'd have an easy time of it, with the guards at every exit, the surveillance on her, and the tracker she doesn't know about yet.
I told her last night, when I had her bent over the table, fucking her senseless, that I was tracking her. But she probably assumes it's just the tracker on her phone.
“I was checking on Nikita,” she says. “So sue me.”
I catch her eyes, blazing with anger. “Don't even think about it,” she warns.
“Think about what?” I challenge, rising and walking over to her.
She only narrows her eyes at me. “I'm not gonna leave without telling you, okay? I was just checking on Nikita, so relax.”
“I was saying we should go to Mom's,” Vera says. “That way, we can talk to her about the final details and solidify everything for this wedding. Have you seen her since you and Viktor got engaged?”
“No, we've texted a few times and talked on the phone, but I haven't seen her in person.”
“We fully expect an attack from the Ledyanoye Bratstvo,” Nikko says. “Are you girls prepared for that?”
“Yes, of course,” Vera says. “Lydia?”
“Of course,” she snaps, pounding her fist in her hand. “I hope he brings it.”
In our recent self-defense class, I showed her how to use a knife. It’s not too hard if you know what you're doing and you're not afraid to slice through muscle and veins.
“I want more practice with my knife,” she says. “Is there any way to do that?”
“Got a place near our headquarters called The Hidden Mark. It’s a private place with dummies we use for knife work. It’s secluded and on the way.”
“Yes, perfect. Can we go there before we head to Mom's?”
“She texted me this morning and said she was there,” Vera says. “It was a strange message, though. Have you talked to her?”
I give her a sharp look. “Maybe she's just distracted about the wedding. She's been planning a wedding for Lydia with such detail—” Vera stops mid-sentence, her cheeks coloring. She was going to say more, but we do not need to discuss Lydia's previous engagement.
“I'm going to send a car out there to check on her,” I decide.
Nikko is still glaring at me, probably because I raised my voice to Vera. Jesus, it's not Vera I have a problem with; it's anything that threatens the safety of Lydia. I’d think he’d get that.
“You get your fucking boxers out of your ass and chill,” I tell Nikko. He takes a step toward me, and Lydia shakes her head.
“Stop,” she says warningly. Nikko still advances on me. I grab him by the front of the shirt, lift him up, and casually place him back in the living room. “I said sit down, Nikko.”
“Call Lev,” he snaps.
“Are you guys always like this? These pissing matches. Honest to God!” Lydia throws her hands up in the air.
Vera pipes up. “I’ve heard they even fight about who has more kids than the other ones.”
“Well, that's easy. Knock me up with triplets, and we'll blow everybody out of the water,” Lydia says to me.
Not a bad idea.
I punch the button on my phone, and Lev answers. “We're heading over to The Hidden Mark. I want you to check in on Zofia. You'll get there before we do because we have a quick stop first. Can you do that for me?”
“I'm not there, brother. Mikhail sent me to Manhattan for the day.”
“Shit. Aleks. He probably can.”
“Maybe we should skip the range and just go straight to Mom's,” Lydia suggests.
“She hasn't answered the phone?” I ask.
“No,” Lydia says. “She never answers her phone or texts. She's kind of a… what do you call it? Someone who hates technology.”
“Luddite,” Vera supplies. “Oh wait, I just got a text from her,” Vera says. “She says everything's fine, don't worry about me. I'll be out here all day. When are you coming? Love, Mom.”
She shrugs. “Sounds like Mom.”
We head down to the range where we train and have large stuffed dummies suitable for knife practice. We go over everything again and again until she's panting, her face red with the exertion. “How did I do?” she asks, her eyes fierce.
“I'm proud of you. If anyone comes to attack you and you have your knife on you, they don't stand a chance.”
“On me? How do we do that, by the way?”
“I can get a little harness strapped to your leg, a sheath that goes in the small of your back, or you… there are lots of options, and we can use more than one if you'd like.”
“Yeah, I would like that.”
As we head out, an alarm sounds.
“What?” she asks, giving me a wary look. She doesn't trust me at all after last night. Not at all.
“Metal detector.”
“Everybody has to have their weapons checked. But it doesn't make sense that it’s going off,” Lydia says. “You're holding the knives, not me. I don't have any on me.”
Fuck. It’s her tracker.
She looks at the display that shows what’s causing the alarm to go off.
I note the second she realizes. The second she knows.
“It’s pointing to my neck. It's that thing at my neck that I thought was a bug bite, isn't it? Isn't it!” she demands.
“Look, hate me later. Scream at me, whatever. We have to go to your mom's, and I want to be sure that you're safe. Don't do anything fucking stupid.”
“Nice double standard, Mr. Romanov,” she snarls. “‘Don't do anything stupid,’ but it's totally fine for you to install something in my neck like I'm a dog? When did you do this?”
“When I first got you,” I say between clenched teeth.
“When you… got me? It's really like I'm a dog. Viktor!”
“No, it isn’t, Lydia,” I say, losing patience.
“This isn't normal! This isn't okay.”
“I'll take it out once we have the ex in custody.”
“No!” She claws at her neck, her fingernails digging into her skin. Blood bubbles to the surface. “Do you know what it feels like having some kind of foreign object in your body? Are you crazy?”
I move closer to her, her smaller body cast in shadow next to mine. “Calm down, Lydia,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and steady. “You're safe with me.”
She looks up at me, her mouth open. “Safe? How can I be safe when you put this… this thing inside me?” Her eyes blaze with anger, her hands clenched into fists, trembling as she reaches for her neck and tries to claw at it again.
I reach out, but she flinches and turns away from me.
“You say everything is about my protection, but maybe this is your control. Have you thought of that, Viktor?” Her voice drips with sarcasm and fury.
She backs away from me, her eyes darting toward the door, clearly weighing her chances of escaping.
“Both,” I admit, my voice low and rough.
“You don't understand the danger you're in.
You're a smart girl, but your former fiancé is a lot more than a narcissistic bastard.
He's deadly. We don't know what his plans are for you, and I don't want to take a single risk of anyone, especially him, hurting you. At this point, he wants you out of sheer vengeance.”
Her breath comes in short bursts. “You mean you won't let anybody but you control me.” She shakes her head, laughing bitterly.
I clench my jaw. “I'm the only one who cares about keeping you alive.”
She grits her teeth, her cheeks flaming as hot as the fires she’s obsessed with. “This isn't about you caring about me. You're obsessed. Who keeps a napkin, Viktor?”
I take another step forward. “Call it what you like. You know where we stand. You know I know you better than anybody.”
Her eyes narrow. “You think you know me. But do you really?”
“I would if you let me in.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, her body taut with defiance. “I would rather burn, Viktor.”
I give one sharp shake of my head, my patience waning. The room is thick with tension, our battle of wills evident. This is how it will always be with us—thunderstorms and fire, volcanoes and eruptions. But that's who we are.
“Viktor,” she says, her voice softening. “I know you need to protect me. I know what happened to your sister.”
I look away, not meeting her eyes. I don't know who told her, but I wouldn't have withheld it from her. I just wasn't ready. “I can't be controlled like this. I feel like I'm caged.”
I give her a dark look. “That can be arranged.”
Despite her anger, I know by the way her pupils dilate and she clutches at her collarbone, pink rising on her cheeks, that she likes this. She might fight me, but she needs this.
So do I.
“It feels like you're suffocating me,” she says in a soft voice.
I take a step closer to her, wrapping my hand around the front of her throat and tightening it.
“Like this?” I say, my voice a growl. Beneath her fear and anger, a small part of her is drawn to this intensity, the raw, primal need I have for her.
It's dark, dangerous, and twisted, and it scares her, but she craves us.
“Don't distract me,” she says, but it's a last-ditch effort. She wants this. I know she does.
My mouth slams on hers with a punishing kiss.
I tighten my hand on her throat until she is gasping for breath and only release it when her mouth opens.
She moans into my mouth, trying to push me away, but I tighten my grip, grab her ass, and squeeze her while I pull her into me. When we pull away, we are both panting.