69. -68-
Nina
Dad and Dino stared at me as if I had grown another head. But gunfire at the main entrance interrupted their surprise and confusion.
“Fuck!” Dino cursed. “We’re not ready for this.” He glared at my father as if he contemplated murdering him. “I came to help. This wasn’t part of the agreement.”
Dad opened his mouth to protest, but the loud banging and shooting cut him off. Dino used the disruption and turned to me.
“I’ll be around, piccola.”
A frown appeared on my forehead, but I couldn’t follow him. The last thing I wanted was to turn this situation into a bloodbath.
“Surrender,” I told my father, who just lined up his men in a living room. “It’s the best thing you can do.”
“They came to kill,” he snarled. “They broke our agreement.”
“No!” I yelled, grasping his elbow when he wanted to walk past me. “Dorian is here for me. You didn’t listen then, and you don’t listen now. He. Is. Here. For. Me!”
The massive double doors exploded inward. The blast shook the entire mansion. Splinters, smoke, and marble dust filled the entrance hall as men shouted over one another and instinctively raised their weapons.
My heart leaped into my throat. He came.
“Surrender!” The booming voice came from the hall. “Or we’ll open fire!”
“Would you kill her?” Dad grabbed my arm and pulled me closer.
“No,” the familiar chilling voice said from behind me, and the click of a safety on the gun pierced my ears. “But I’ll happily kill you.”
I veered around, the sounds of the dozen men surrounding me falling into the background as my eyes met Dorian’s.
“Hello, ma vilaine,” he greeted, the warmth momentarily returning to his voice. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” I freed my arm from Dad’s grasp. Dorian’s shoulders dropped by a fraction, and I looked over my shoulder at the guards. “Lower your guns!” I commanded, but they hesitated, casting uncertain glances at my dad. “Now!”
Thankfully, they obeyed, and I looked back at Dorian.
“See? No resistance.”
“Where’s Dino?” he asked, his eyes narrowing at my father. “I heard you called him to action.”
“Gone,” Zyon replied, walking down the stairs before my father could reply. “As always. The fucking coward.”
Shivers ran down my spine at the pure hate reflected on Zyon’s face. I didn’t know there was a hunt on Dino. Fuck, I didn’t know many things.
“Well, at least we know the rumors about his death are false.” Dorian shrugged, waving his gun in front of my father’s face. “Join your men. I need a word with my wife.”
Dad’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Slowly, he walked into the center of the living room while I glanced at my icy-cold husband.
“What took you so long?” I asked, half joking because his severe expression gave me chills.
“Sorry,” he exhaled; his usually sparkling eyes held no joy, just darkness. “I was tricked.”
“Apology accepted.” I smiled gently, killing the distance between us. I tried to touch him, but he stopped my hand and instead pressed the barrel of his gun under my chin, lifting it toward the light.
“What is this?” he ground out, staring at the bruise in the corner of my mouth I gained during the fight in his car.
“A reminder to train more,” I joked, but I remembered his deadly expression when he found out about Sonny beating me.
“Train more, huh?” he echoed, abruptly turning toward my father and his men. “Which one of you idiots hit her?” His strong voice thundered through the open space. But everyone barely dared to breathe, let alone speak.
“I asked a fucking question!” He pointed a gun at my dad’s head of security, and my stomach dropped. “Who the fuck touched her?”
“Dorian,” I whispered, tugging on his arm, but he didn’t react.
“No one?” He gave them one last chance, and then he fired. The first man on the right, the guy I’d known for eight years because he picked me up after my piano lessons, fell to the ground with a hole in his forehead.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, my eyes widening in horror when I realized Dorian was about to continue.
“Who touched her?” he asked again, sweeter this time. Cold sweat covered my skin when no one said anything, and he fired again.
Dad’s head of security collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain because Dorian shot his knee.
“Was it you?” He approached him with a murderous expression. “You hit her?”
“Please, no!”
“Then who?”
“I don’t know.”
Bang. The bullet went to his other knee.
“Dorian!” I yelled, looking at Zyon, who casually leaned against the wall as if he was watching a boring show. “Dorian, stop. Please!”
I grabbed his arm with the gun, refusing to let go.
“Which one of them hit you?” he shouted, the crazy edge in his voice sending ice down my spine.
“The dead one!” I blurted out, unsure what else to say to stop him.
“What?” A frown contorted his features. “Why the fuck are you lying to me, Nina?”
“Because you’re acting like a maniac,” I snapped, breathing hard.
“Maniac?” he echoed, incredulity dripping from his tongue, but he at least lowered his gun. “Your own father kidnapped you. His men dared to hit you, and I’m the maniac?”
“You can’t just shoot them all because they hurt me,” I whispered, taken aback by the agitation lacing his words.
“Watch me.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three men hit the floor one by one, all dead. My father stared at them in absolute terror, the only surviving guard quietly sobbing on the floor.
“S-satisfied?” I stammered, registering the tremor of my hands and the shaking of my knees. The scene almost paralyzed me.
“No,” Dorian replied flatly. “Now I want the man responsible for this.”
Pure dread washed over my body as my gaze crashed into Dad’s. For the first time since I’d known him, I saw fear strip away every layer he hid behind. The calculating capo. The composed negotiator. The father who always believed he could outplay everyone in the room.
Gone.
He finally understood the mistake he’d made. He didn’t kidnap the wife of an ordinary man. He took the one person standing between Dorian Zhumagulov and whatever monster he managed to keep on a leash.
“Dorian, please.” I stood between him and my father, glancing into his emotionless, glassy eyes. The memory of him smashing the window in his bathroom resurfaced like a lifeline, giving me an idea. I could calm him. I knew I could, if he just let me in.
“Baby,” I said as gently as my trembling voice and shock allowed. “He’s my dad. He didn’t mean to hurt me.”
Tenderly, I took his free hand, noticing how tightly, almost as if in a cramp, he clutched his gun with the other. But his breathing was so calm I barely registered it, and his face was an empty mask.
He’d never reminded me of Malin more than in this moment. The destructive mode his mind switched to had to be reversed, or he would kill the only family I had.
“Please,” I whispered, closing the space between us inch by terrifying inch. “Don’t kill him.”
Dorian tilted his head.
“He deserves worse than death.” His large hand cupped my chin. “No one hurts what’s mine.” He leaned down, resting his forehead against mine. “No one takes away what’s mine.”
A shaky breath left my lips as he brushed his thumb against my cheek. The touch of his skin against mine sent tingles through my entire body, steadily erasing the horror I’d witnessed.
“You have no idea what you’re doing!” Dad’s shouting burst our little bubble. My head whipped toward him as two of Zyon’s men approached him and grabbed his arms. “You have no right—”
“I have every fucking right!” Dorian hollered, walking past me as if I were a ghost. I tried to stop him, but he shook off my hand and stopped inches from my father. “You took my wife!”
“You keep saying that.” Dad’s confused gaze jumped between us. “But when? How?”
Swiftly, Dorian fished the paper I knew so well from the inner pocket of his leather jacket and slammed it against my father’s chest.
The marriage certificate.
“Read,” he snarled, peeking at me out of the corner of his eye. My heart missed a beat when my dad mumbled under his breath.
Dorian Zakhar Zhumagulov.
Nina Elisabetta Valentino
Witnesses:
Lucas Francesco Colapino
Zyon Zefarin Zhumagulov
Oh my fucking God!
He signed it!
His brother signed it!
I’m married!
“Are you serious?” Dad looked at Dorian as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Is it true?”
“Are you fucking blind?” Dorian rumbled, snatching the paper from him. He folded it neatly and put it back in his pocket. “Nina is my wife. Your poor services are no longer needed.”
Dad’s brows shot up, and he looked at me sadly.
“You have no idea what you’ve done, sweetie,” he mumbled, shaking his head slowly.
“No, because you don’t share anything with me,” I retorted, standing between Dorian and him to block any sudden attack. Yet instead of talking to me, he turned to Zyon, who had acted invisible the whole time.
“You are at war. This,” his long index finger pointed at Dorian and me, “dragged you into a fight you really don’t need.”
“Well,” Zyon drawled, smirking arrogantly. “I like challenges.”
Dad pressed his lips into a thin line and dove his hands into his hair, crouching down. I glanced at him, sadness embracing my insides.
I wanted to help him. God knew I wanted to be part of whatever was happening, but he just didn’t let me.
“Let's go!” Zyon waved at his men, and they snatched my dad and dragged him to his feet. His wretched expression almost broke my heart.
“Zyon, please,” I whispered, trying to approach him, but Dorian’s arm blocked me.
“He’s alive,” he grumbled. “That should be enough.”
“It’s not!” I yelled, punching his shoulder hard. But he didn’t even flinch.
“You’re right.” He bit the corner of his lip, tilting his head. “It’s not enough.”
Before I, or anyone, could react, he lifted his gun and pulled the trigger. A gut-wrenching shriek flew from my throat as the bullet tore through my dad’s sweater. He screamed in pain and fright as it pierced his bicep and came out on the other side, hitting the wall.
Zyon sighed exasperatedly. The two men holding my father flinched in shock, and I ran toward my dad, shrieking like a banshee, but Dorian was completely unfazed.
Gently, he pushed me to the side, and with his gun, he lifted my father’s head so their gazes locked.
Dad gasped for air, his eyes glossy as he glanced into Dorian’s murderous face, fear and pain contorting his features.
“That’s for taking my wife,” Dorian seethed, pressing the barrel of his gun against his neck. “Hurt her again.” He smiled maniacally. “Fuck, just make her sad, or God forbid she cries because of you,” he released the safety, “and you’ll be begging me to kill you, Lorenzo. Do you understand?”
A tear rolled down Dad’s cheek, and he nodded.
“Words!” Dorian demanded.
“Y-yes,” Dad breathed in a trembling voice. “I understand.”
“Perfect.” A slow smile spread across Dorian’s face, one so calm and satisfied it chilled me far more than his shouting ever could. “Get him out of my sight.”
He straightened to his full height, took hold of my arm, and pulled me up with him.
“He needs a doctor.” I tried to walk past my husband, but he didn’t let me.
“I’m the only doctor he’ll see, ma vilaine,” he said, freezing me on the spot. His threatening words were one thing. They were cold, ruthless, and absolutely justified in the mafia world we grew up in. But what I wouldn’t tolerate was him hurting the man I cared about.
“If you think I’ll let you—” I started, but he roughly pulled me against his chest, effectively cutting me off.
“I don’t ask for permission, wifey. You reap what you sow.”