44. -43-
Nina
Every passing hour made the wedding feel more real.
The diamond I wore for show seemed heavier each morning I woke in my father’s mansion surrounded by flowers, fabrics, guest lists, and seating charts for people I barely knew and liked even less.
The whole thing sat on my chest like a weight I couldn’t shake.
By the third day of my imprisonment in a pre-wedding hell, I genuinely began to understand why some brides ran away before the ceremony.
I sat alone in one of the upstairs lounges, half listening to muffled voices downstairs while staring at my phone.
The mansion buzzed with life around me, but all I could think about was him.
Dorian.
It had become irritatingly easy for my thoughts to drift toward him during quiet moments. My phone vibrated softly in my hand.
Handsome husband: Alive?
A wide smile tugged at my lips. Purely pathetic.
Nina: Bored. I’m thinking about chaining you to the bed to spice up my dull days.
The typing bubble appeared instantly, and my grin broadened when the message arrived.
Handsome husband: No gun this time, please. My ass still hasn’t recovered.
Nina: I love it when you beg.
Handsome husband: Got to go, sorry. To be continued?
My fingers hovered over the keyboard for longer than necessary. To be continued. Such a stupidly simple sentence, yet warmth spread through my chest anyway.
He wanted more. More conversations. More teasing. More of me. And the most interesting part was that he no longer sounded like a man forced into this against his will.
He sounded attached. Helplessly, beautifully attached.
Nina: Depends. Behave, and maybe I’ll reward you later.
The message showed as seen, but no reply came. He was truly busy. Probably running to save someone’s limbs while grinning at his phone like an idiot.
God, I loved this shift in him.
The texts, the flirting, the way his attention drifted toward me even during exhausting hospital shifts. He was coming to me willingly, and I adored every second of it.
My thumb brushed over the screen absentmindedly as memories from a few nights ago surfaced again.
The image of him sleeping curled on the office couch invaded my mind.
One arm hung down, his fingers touching the carpet, his head tilted awkwardly against the cushions, still wearing scrubs after another endless shift.
The following night, I found him passed out beside that little girl’s hospital bed, which he visited constantly.
Warm light spilled across his face as one hand rested too close to the child’s hand as she was curled beneath the blankets.
He looked exhausted yet peaceful despite the dark circles beneath his eyes, like an ordinary human and not a billionaire mafia prince who could do anything he wished without caring about the consequences.
Familiar voices echoing through the hall woke me from my daydream. Dorian’s contagious smile faded from my mind, and I stood up from the couch as my father entered the lounge.
“Your girls are here,” he announced, scanning my face as if looking for something. “Party preparations?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, hiding my phone in my jeans’ back pocket and ignoring his raised brow. “Gown, makeup, hair. I want to look great at the party of the month. Everyone will be there.”
“Exactly.” His expression was a hard mask as he stepped toward me. “It’s our chance to show the world we’re on board with the Zhumagulovs. We can’t fuck it up. Our lives depend on it.”
My eyebrows dipped into a frown.
“Do you think it’s a test?” I asked, my body tensing.
“What else would it be?” Dad shrugged, hiding his hands in his pants pockets. If he intended to look casual and not appear freaked out, he failed miserably. The moment the mask slipped, his eyes showed exactly how he felt. Horrified.
“I haven’t done anything to change their minds so rapidly,” he admitted. “For Zyon, his wife’s birthday party is much more important than his brother’s little hospital side project. And we weren’t invited there.”
The hospital wasn’t just a little side project for Dorian. It was his life. But I couldn’t tell my dad that.
“Maybe he realized we aren’t a threat anymore,” I mused, but it sounded naive as hell. They executed the head of our family and publicly displayed his tortured body to send a message: never mess with them again. We would be threatened as long as the name Valentino existed.
“I doubt that.” Dad shook his head firmly.
“Zyon might believe I’m not a threat, but…
" He paused, erasing the distance between us.
“Someone accessed your psychiatric records last night." He placed his large, heavy hands on my shoulders. “Our people checked other stored files about you—Giovanni’s notes, schedules, everything that is tied to you—and found a massive leak. But what’s worse,” he cupped my chin, forcing me to look into his worried face, “the trace was left intentionally. Whoever was snooping around wanted us to find out.”
“Malin,” I exhaled before I could stop myself, my lower lip quivering as my father slowly confirmed my assumption with a nod.
“Is there anything I should know, Nina?” His deadly serious gaze sent a shiver down my spine. “Did you do something stupid to avenge your grandfather?”
“No,” I whispered, taking hold of his wrist and removing his hand from my face. “You know how I feel about it. Grandpa made a mistake. He lost. Case closed.”
“So, nothing?” he pressed, radiating raw fear in all directions. “Nothing at all?”
“No,” I lied through my teeth because I couldn’t tell him the truth. If he knew I abducted Dorian, stalked him like a psychopath, and planned to spend my life with him, he would have a heart attack. Still, could Malin have found out what I did? Or was it just a coincidence?
The afternoon passed in a blur. My mind raced with unanswered questions while my hair and makeup were done.
Once dressed, I ignored all the praise for my stunning looks; instead, I ran to my bodyguard and asked him to drive me to my apartment.
I needed my slim knife strapped to my thigh, my elegant small gun that could be kept inside my purse, a diamond hairpin dagger, and a garrote wire bracelet.
Grandpa gave me all those weapons on different occasions. All of them were reminders of the time when I was the number one person for someone.
I found my priceless possessions exactly where I left them, in the bottom drawer in my walk-in closet. Hiding them on me in record time, I instantly felt better. There was nothing more comforting than having them close when entering the lion’s den.
“Finally.”
My body stiffened on the threshold of the spacious living room, my eyes landing on Sonny’s disgusting face.
“What are you doing here?” I barked, squeezing my purse.
“I came to visit my fiancée, who is constantly avoiding me,” he replied, observing the papers on the coffee table.
“What are you planning, sweetheart?” He pointed at the blueprints of a warehouse Grandpa used for his drug deals that was closed by the police a year and a half ago.
The paper only served as a tablecloth, but the asshole didn’t know that.
“None of your business,” I retorted, checking my buzzing phone. Lucas texted me that he was downstairs, waiting for me.
“You’re frequently forgetting who I am, Nina.” Fury flashed in Sonny’s eyes. He turned to me with a menacing expression, blocking my way toward the elevator.
“It’s mutual,” I snarled. “You’re frequently forgetting that I am a mafia heir.” I lifted my chin higher. “I am your ticket into this world. Without me, you’re just a son of a bankrupt lawyer.”
Sonny’s nostrils flared, and he looked ready to jump on me. But this time, I was ready. Before he could move, I held the small knife in my hand, pointing it at him.
“What are you going to do with that?” he mocked, a sadistic smirk lifting his lips.
“I’ll gut you like a fish if you take another step,” I threatened. Blood rushed through my veins, and my cheeks flushed with heat.
“Try that,” he challenged, launching at me. My arm reacted on instinct before I could think. I slashed through the air, tearing open his suit jacket and white button-up shirt, but the tip of the blade didn’t reach his abdomen. He still hissed in shock.
“You filthy bitch!” he cursed, grasping my wrist. I let go of the knife, caught it with my left hand, and attempted to stab it into his bicep, yet he spun us around, and I lost my balance in my high heels, letting go of my weapon.
A shriek broke free from my throat when he punched my abdomen hard.
Stars danced before my eyes as the pain hit me, spreading through my bones and muscles.
But my body was in fight mode, ignoring the discomfort.
My fist shot up and hit Sonny square in the jaw.
His tall body wavered, and as he stepped back, his feet hit the couch, and he collapsed onto it.
“What the fuck?”
I winced in shock and turned toward the elevator at the sound of the familiar voice. Lucas ran to me, pale, his shocked glance jumping from me to whining Sonny.
“Help me!” Sonny stretched his arm toward Lucas. “She’s lost her mind.”
“You attacked me!” I yelled, satisfaction filling my chest as I saw the bruise forming on his perfectly shaved, chiseled jaw. “Be glad I didn’t kill you.”
“He attacked you again?” Lucas ground out, pulling out a black gun from the holster under his arm. Before I could interfere, he stood over Sonny and aimed at his head. “You piece of shit!”
Sonny raised his hands in surrender, his pupils blown.
“Lucas!” I screamed, running to him as quickly as my high heels allowed me. “Don’t, Zyon will kill you!”
“I don’t fucking care,” he said through gritted teeth, pressing the barrel of his gun against Sonny’s forehead. “He won’t touch you again.”
“Lucas.” I tugged on his arm, but he was like a brick wall. “Please. Listen to me.”
“Enough, Nina!” he yelled, whipping his head toward me. His green eyes shone brightly with pure fury, startling me. My mouth opened, but no protests came out. I’d never seen him like this, so angry that his entire body shook, so distraught that the infuriated tear fell on his cheek.
“I’m done tolerating this.” Lucas’s lips twisted in a snarl. “If your father—” He didn’t get to finish. Sonny used his distraction to grab his hand with the gun and wrench it toward the ceiling. Lucas pulled the trigger, the bullet shattering the light above our heads.
I tried to stop Sonny, but I wasn’t quick enough. He kicked Lucas in the shin, jumped over the couch, and disappeared into the elevator.
“Call security!” Lucas yelled, but I didn’t move. “Nina!”
“No.” I shook my head slowly, registering the pain in my stomach that quickly spread through my ribs and my lower abdomen. “I won’t let you kill yourself.”
“Are you nuts!” he screamed, grasping my shoulders and shaking me as if hoping to wake me to my senses. “You can’t marry him!”
“I have a plan,” I said, keeping a calm facade.
“Will you sleep with a knife and a gun under your pillow?” His hold on my shoulders tensed.
Wiggling to escape his grip, I clutched my hurting abdomen, my mind doing its best to form a coherent explanation while my best friend just glared at me.
“If the wedding happens,” I started eventually, underlining the word if, “then believe me, I’ll become a very young, very sad widow.”
Lucas’s brows knitted above his confused eyes, the spark of realization settling in just a second later.
“You plan to kill him after the wedding?” he muttered, his arms falling beside his body.
“Did you believe I would endure this?” I pointed at my aching torso, registering the mild shortness of breath. “Zyon will get his wedding alliance and the help he needs for Ramzan. And I’ll get my freedom. That’s the endgame if everything else fails.”