32. -31-
Nina
Ididn’t sleep. I couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, the night replayed itself. The hotel room. The smell of gunpowder. The look on Dorian’s face. The corpse. So instead, I lay sprawled across my bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the distant hum of the city waking up.
Killing wasn’t new to me. Grandpa had made sure of that long before he died.
My initiation into the family business ended with blood on my hands and a lesson I was expected to carry for the rest of my life: hesitation got people killed.
I’d pulled the trigger before, but never because of jealousy.
That was the part I couldn’t stop thinking about.
I waited for guilt to crash over me, for panic, nausea, or regret to claw its way up my throat. But nothing came. What arrived instead was justification.
She touched him. Dorian was mine. That woman should’ve known better.
I turned my head, staring at the pale light creeping through the curtains.
Growing up in a house where rules were written in blood and enforced with fists left a mark on me.
My grandfather was a capo. The word mercy wasn’t part of his vocabulary.
I watched men disappear for less than betrayal.
I saw broken bones, split lips, and terror used as education.
Violence wasn’t shocking to me. It was language, structure. It was how order was maintained.
However, the mafia rules clearly stated that jealousy wasn’t a reason for murder. I kind of slipped there. Emotional killings were sloppy. I’d heard that lecture many times, but this wasn’t just jealousy to me.
It was betrayal.
Shifting onto my side, I pulled the blanket around myself. My body felt wired and exhausted at the same time. Every nerve buzzed, and a stupid smile appeared on my lips when my thoughts drifted to him.
Dorian.
The way he stared at me when he realized I won almost made me laugh out loud.
How adorably lost and surprised he looked.
He couldn’t know I'd spent countless hours on the training grounds. I was still shocked that my improvised plan worked. He clearly underestimated me because, in a direct confrontation, I’d have lost.
I was too small to beat a six-foot-something male.
Sonny proved that the last time he literally crushed me.
But I wouldn’t make that mistake again. If that meant killing him and signing my death sentence because the Zhumagulovs protected him, so be it.
But I would put a bullet into his stupid head if he hit me again.
If I could kill a woman for touching my husband, I surely could erase the fucker who dared to punch me.
Exhaling deeply, I pushed thoughts about Sonny into the darkest corner of my mind. Dorian was a much calmer, charming, and sexier presence to get attached to than my asshole of a forced fiancé.
Comfortably lying on my back, I sneaked my hand into my pajama bottoms. My pussy was drowning in wetness caused by the memories of the last night.
A pair of mischievous hazel eyes watched me from the shadows, intensifying the tingling between my legs.
My fingers quickly found my sensitive clit while the wild encounter with Dorian replayed like a movie in my mind.
It was no secret that I always liked control in bed.
Whether it was caused by the experiences with my mother’s violent customers, endless conflicts with my father, or I was born like this, I didn’t know, but I just loved to make men squirm, gasp for air, and beg for mercy.
I liked them chained, gagged, unable to do anything but watch and endure what I prepared for them.
However, never, not in my wildest dream, did I hope that Dorian would submit to me. I accepted the fact that he was a control freak, so I automatically believed he would be the same in bed.
But, holy cow, how deeply mistaken I was.
I slid my two fingers into my pussy, remembering too vividly how Dorian’s muscles clenched around them. A low moan flew from my throat, and I arched my back against my hand. Slowly, I teased myself, my other hand playing with my breast as I lived through the best sexual experience of my life.
Dorian’s groans rang in my ears; his expression and the moment he came overwhelmed my mind. He spurted like a fucking fountain. My heart jolted victoriously, my body exploding with euphoria as his name left my lips.
“Oh, Goood, Dorian.”
A moan burst out of me, my legs shaking. My pussy clamped around my fingers, pleasure spreading into my every cell, hazing my vision and muddying my overthinking, exhausted brain.
The orgasm felt like a drop of water in the desert. I didn’t even know how much I needed to release the tension and forget for a moment the carnage I turned my life into. But the reality returned with crushing force when the buzzing of my phone disturbed the momentary calm.
Dad: You have lunch with your mother-in-law today, no excuses.
I rolled my eyes at the screen and threw the phone away. One stupid reminder of the ticking clock was enough to ruin the fragile peace I’d managed to find. Still, nothing could take my mind off Dorian Zhumagulov.
After last night, something had shifted between us. It wasn’t love. He had nothing to love about me but my perfect aim and wild actions. Yet I noticed a crack in his armor. A connection I couldn’t ignore.
Was that naive? Probably.
But hope was a dangerous thing, and I was always willing to bleed for it.
Iwalked through the front entrance of the quiet restaurant precisely at one pm.
Arianna Carlile was already seated when I arrived.
I immediately searched her face, covered in heavy makeup, expecting to find a dark bruise somewhere.
But there was nothing. Her blond hair fell in elegant waves over her shoulders, framing a carefully composed smile that never reached her eyes.
A simple cream-colored dress and an expensive pearl necklace completed the picture of wealth.
However, it was the cautious glance she gave me that caught my attention.
She looked like a woman who expected punishment for breathing too loudly.
“Thank you for coming, Nina,” she greeted, standing briefly before sitting again.
“Of course,” I replied, returning the polite smile. I plopped into the comfortable chair, crossed my legs, and waited for her to tell me why she insisted on lunch together. But she only circled the wine in her glass, looking somewhere behind me.
“Why did you want to meet?” I asked after another minute of waiting. She finally looked at me, the left corner of her lips twitching slightly.
“I’m going to tell you something,” she began quietly, leaning closer over the table. I mirrored her movements, my pulse quickening. “But first, I need you to understand that it’s for your ears only.”
I nodded, clutching the glass of sparkling water to preoccupy my hand.
“My son is not a good man,” she revealed, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “He is like his father. Charming when it suits him, cruel when it doesn’t. He doesn’t see women as equals. He has no respect for us.”
I stared at her, my chest tightening. She didn’t tell me anything new, but it still shocked me to hear her speak about her only child like that. Her courage was admirable, considering the monster that awaited her at home.
“I’ve seen the way Sonny looks at you,” Arianna continued, her hand trembling. She placed the glass on the table too harshly, almost spilling the wine on the pristine white tablecloth. “You defy him, challenge him. It’s the worst thing you can do. If you fight, he will make you lose every battle.”
Cold fear slid under my skin, but I didn’t let it reach my face.
I knew exactly what Arianna was warning me about.
My history with Sonny was colorful, entwined with violence and hate.
I was well aware that the way out of his claws didn’t exist once he got me under his roof.
Even if I submitted to him, it would be just another kind of slow, torturous death.
I lifted my chin, keeping a calm demeanor on the outside, but inside, my blood was boiling.
“Thank you for your honesty, Mrs. Carlile,” I started, appreciating her words with a soft smile. “It’s very—”
“Run, Nina,” she cut me off harshly, grasping my hand.
“Before it’s too late.” She squeezed my fingers with a crushing force, her eyes reflecting pure desperation.
“Hide somewhere safe. Disappear and never look back.” A single tear fell on her pink cheek, her lips quivering.
“Do everything possible to escape my son.”
For a moment that seemed endless, we stared at each other, two souls trapped by the same fate, married off to ensure stability and prosperity for their families. But instead of succumbing to the depressing reality, I inhaled slowly, freeing my hand from her hold.
“I can’t leave,” I admitted, slowly shaking my head. “My father would die. The Zhumagulovs would destroy my family. What’s my life worth against thirty others?”
Arianna’s face paled, and she bit her lower lip. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears when she looked outside at the busy street.
“I tried, you know,” she breathed, her voice strained with pain. “Many years ago. I took Sonny and ran. For one whole week, I thought we were free.”
Her hand trembled as she lifted her glass and gulped a generous portion of wine. My stomach twisted with dread. I didn’t want to hear the rest of the story, but she told it anyway.
“Sebastian found us,” she whispered, sadly watching the flowers that separated us.
“I didn’t see the outside of the basement for five months.
” I pressed my lips into a thin line, overcoming an urge to shout her own advice at her.
“He claimed I was mentally ill, forbade me from raising my son, and cut me off from everyone I ever knew and loved.” She raised her gaze to look at me, tears smudging her eyeliner and mascara.
“Every time I ran, he found me, and the punishment was harder than before until I lost every bit of defiance and will to escape.” A muffled sob broke out of her, and her shoulders shook.
“I don’t need company in my personal hell, Nina.
I don’t want you to endure this. You deserve better. ”
“You deserve better, too,” I claimed sincerely, pressure building behind my eyes. “There has to be something—”
“It’s too late for me, sweetheart,” she whispered, wiping her cheeks with a napkin. “But you still have a chance. I don’t have money or influence. I can’t arrange your disappearance. But if you think I can help you with something, just say a word.”
She smiled kindly, yet she barely held together.
“You can do something for me,” I said, smiling encouragingly. “Prepare the wedding.” Her brows shot up. “Make Sonny believe we’re getting married. And I’ll take care of the rest.”
Sitting in the back seat of my car, driven by my bodyguard, I pulled out my phone in the exact moment the text came.
My heart skipped a beat with excitement when Dorian’s name lit up the screen.
Lucas somehow cloned the inbox from the burner so my phone could receive messages from the other device.
I had no idea how he did it, but it was great.
Cheating husband: I expected you to be camping in my living room when I got home. Did something come up?
I checked my watch, frowning because it was too early for his shift to end. He had a weird schedule in the hospital, mostly tied to planned surgeries. But he never—meaning, since I started to stalk him—left earlier than after 5 pm.
Nina: I’m healing my broken heart. Being married to a cheater isn’t for the weak.
I pressed send, grinning like an idiot. My anxiety about the wedding preparations flew out the window, as if it never existed.
Cheating husband: I’m healing my sore ass after this HUGE misunderstanding. Doesn’t it make us even?
Nina: No, baby. I don’t forgive and forget betrayal easily.
Cheating husband: What about dinner then? We can talk this issue out.
My trembling fingers hovered over the screen for a second before I typed.
Nina: Like a date?
Cheating husband: Yes, like a date.
My brows shot up, excitement quickly replaced by paranoia. Why the sudden change? He never texted me first before. Not once, and suddenly he wanted a date?
Nina: No, thanks. I’m not interested in falling into your trap ??
Three dots appeared instantly as I sent it.
Cheating husband: Give it a second thought, ma vilaine. Newlyweds should get to know each other better.
I scowled at the screen, the wheels in my brain turning rapidly. Of course, he was provoking me, and it worked flawlessly. Resisting the chance to meet him again seemed unimaginable.
But… There was a huge but.