40. Luna
Nik is acting strange again. He has gone quiet and is shoveling his food in his mouth as fast as he can. And making eye contact this evening seems to be an issue.
Once we’ve finished eating, I take the plates to the sink. I’m not even thinking about cleaning up at the moment, though, because we both need a distraction. Darting to the bar stool next to Nik, I grab my newest pajama purchase and run to the bathroom to toss it on and brush out my hair. I study myself in the mirror, worrying my lip. Will he like it?
Back in the bedroom, I crack open the window, allowing a breeze to trickle in and freshen the air. The rustling leaves offer a soothing cadence as I busy myself fluffing the king-size pillows. A fresh cotton aroma from the fabric softener I just bought drifts up with each hand chop. When the bed is put together and inviting, I tiptoe across the room to lean against the door frame.
Nik is standing at the sink, washing dishes and staring out the window. His shoulders are slumped over, and the far-off look in his eyes tugs at my heartstrings. I wish I knew what was bothering him.
I clear my throat and he turns, freezing the second his eyes land on me. Water continues to pour into the sink. His heated gaze starts at my bare feet, travels up to my chest, and finally lands on my face. Longing—and an emotion I can’t quite put a name to—shines deeply in his sea-colored eyes.
He fumbles with the faucet, and his eyes never leave mine as he wipes his wet, soapy hands on his shirt. Stalking over to me, he rolls his shoulders, and I smirk at the seriousness on his face. When he reaches me, his hand grabs a section of my baby doll top, and he rubs the material between his fingers.
“Are you trying to kill me, Luna?” His mouth comes within inches of mine. I’ll never ever get enough of his masculine musk.
“Never,” I say, and he kisses me. Soft, tentative lips drag over mine, and I want nothing more than to surge up and claim his mouth. But his slow kiss does more, conveys more. And I don’t want it to ever end.
His kiss grows deeper, his tongue slipping along my closed mouth. I open for him, relishing the feel of his body crashed against mine. Lips never leaving me, he moves us backward until we’re in the bedroom and my legs are hitting the back of the bed. I tumble down onto the plush haven I’ve come to share with him. My husband.
He rips off his shirt and flings it to the ground. My hands explore his skin, tracing each muscle and dip, starved to memorize him.
Holding my eyes, he leans down, nudging my thighs apart, and whispers in my ear.
“Maddening, Luna.”
Morning comes too soon, and I cringe when light flutters over my eyelids. I reach out my hand, seeking Nik, but his side of the bed is empty and cold. Lifting my head, I notice the clothes we left on the floor last night have been picked up. I palm my eyes while reaching for my phone. Seven a.m.
I get dressed and have a bagel for breakfast before gathering the books that need to go back to the library. After cleaning for most of the morning, and leaving several voicemails on my father’s phone, I grab my bag and send Nik a quick text, letting him know I’m thinking about him. He doesn’t respond, and the pit in my stomach sours my recent meal.
Frank meets me when I open the door.
“Good morning, Mrs. Balakin”
“Good morning, Frank.” I beam at him. He’s been extra vigilant since my capture, and I’ve been having to practically force him to take his smoke breaks.
I bounce out the door and follow him to the car. The weather is divine today. The summer sun beams down through the trees, and several giant fluffy clouds fill the sky. It would be the perfect day to explore more of the woods around here or take a walk down the winding driveway while listening to some true crime podcasts. I’m hoping Nik will want to explore with me—if he has time.
In the the back seat of the car, I take out my phone and check to see if I have any messages from Nik or, I hope, my sister. Still nothing since she was dropped off by EV.
She’s probably lying low or staying with a friend, but I can’t help but worry. I hope one day she can be as happy as I am right now, despite the circumstances of our being raised within the Cosa Nostra.
Frank drives unhurried to the library, and by the time I duck inside, I’m ready to lose hours to this place. One of my goals is to research more about traveling, but I also want to make a list of some local adventures I could have. I don’t want Nik to feel pressured having to choose between traveling with me and the Bratva.
I also want to check out the romance section. I never read romance, but since falling for Nik, the urge to try out the genre has been growing.
The next several hours fly by, and before I know it, I’ve missed dinner. A dark shadow falls over the library windows blotting out the vivid blue sky that was so captivating earlier.
There’s a storm rolling in.
I gather my items, practically dumping my new books into my tote, and scramble toward the exit, desperate to make it to Frank before the downpour starts. As soon as I plow through the front doors, the air, heavy with humidity, slams into my face. Charcoal-gray clouds fill the sky. The wind has picked up, and the air feels charged with electricity. Several people are dashing to their cars, just like me.
Beyond the town’s courthouse, a jagged streak of light suddenly illuminates the dark sky. The first fat raindrop hits the ground at my feet, with each subsequent one picking up speed.
Frank runs toward me with an umbrella in his hand. By the time he reaches me, raindrops are dripping from his mustache. “Mrs. Balakin, are you ready?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry, I lost track of time.” I huff out, annoyed with myself.
We run to the car, and a distant growl of thunder sounds while some debris from the sidewalks blows up underneath the car. Rain whips into my face, and soaked strands of my hair slap my cheeks. I push it back with my hand before sliding into my seat. Frank runs around to the driver’s side, gets in, and starts the car.
“I didn’t know the weather could change so quickly,” I say over the crackling of thunder and the plopping of raindrops.
“Yes. Mr. Balakin had mentioned the weather yesterday.”
I furrow my brows at his mention of Nik talking about the weather, but who knows, maybe it’s an everyday conversation for them.
We take off from the library, and I contemplate picking up a pizza or two from the place Nik and I like to frequent. I’m about to text him when I realize we’re heading in the opposite direction of the warehouse.
“Frank? Where are we going?”
“Mr. Balakin has instructed me to deliver you to the airport.”
My mouth falls open.
What?
Is Nik going to meet me there and surprise me with a small getaway? My heart leaps at the possibility, and I smile as the rain falls in sheets outside the car. As we get closer and closer to the airport, my pulse starts racing faster, and I can’t help but drum my fingertips on the door handle.
I snag several peeks at my phone, no messages from Nik come through. This is probably why he’s been quiet all day—this surprise. Finally, the small airport comes into view, and I scoot closer to the door, hunting for signs of Nik. When Frank pulls up to the departure lane, he turns around and hands me an envelope.
“You have a small bag packed in the trunk. Let me grab that for you.” He throws open his door at the same time I rip open the envelope.
Luna,
These past couple of months have been some of the best I’ve ever lived and it’s all thanks to you. But I don’t want to subject you to this life. Not when there’s so much for you to see and do in this world. I want you to live, Luna. Travel. Explore. Don’t let this life ruin you. I love you too much to keep you here.
Love,
Nik
I stare at the note. Struck. Incapacitated.
My heart flutters at the brief thought he loves me, but then the pounding in my ears increases and adrenaline rushes through my body. An open-ended ticket slides out of the envelope, along with a wad of cash.
He’s really dumping me off at the airport. Disguising this as some sort of honorable act so he can justify removing me from his life.
I fling open my door, startling Frank, who was reaching for the handle.
“What is this Frank? Where is he?” I demand, shoving the piece of paper into his chest. The departure lane has an overhead awning, but it’s leaking, and the wind is blowing rain into my face.
“He told me yesterday he wanted you safe—and able to travel wherever you’d like to go. I believe the ticket is open-ended.”
I’m shaking. His mother left because she didn’t want to be a part of this life, and he’s tossing me right in with her, assuming I’ll leave him, too. Does he think me so selfish that I’d just leave to travel around the world while he’s here working for both our families?
Does he not want me? Am I truly not enough?
“Mrs. Balakin. I have instructions to see you to airport security.”
“I’m not going. Where is he Frank?” I glare at him, squeezing my fists together so hard my nails bite into my palms. The rain makes my hair stick to my face, but I bat it away.
Frank’s eyes dart back and forth, his shuffling feet doing the same. “He—he has a raid tonight. The Cosa Nostra and Bratva are attacking the Eight.”
I jerk back like I’ve been struck.
“Take me. Now,” I tell him, clutching the door with one hand and using my other to stick a finger in Frank’s face.
“I cannot do that, Mrs. Balakin.” His skin has gone ashen, and he’s shivering.
“I’ll call for a car.” I slam the door shut and move around him, but he grabs my arm. I level him with a look, trying to convey that I will not allow him to push me around. “Let go, Frank. You can either bring me to him or I will find another way.”
Spittle spews from my lips. I wipe my sleeve across my mouth, pulling away my red lipstick. Frank release me and steps back, rubbing his palms on his pants.
“Okay, okay. I’ll take you. But he’s going to kill me for this.” Frank leaves me to run around to the driver’s side. He pulls out his phone and dials a number as I yank open the front passenger-side door and climb in, my pants saturated from the rain. Frank pauses his phone call to look over at me, but I keep my eyes trained out the front window.
He quickly pulls away from the departure lane, cutting off another vehicle as we leave the airport.
“I’m so dead,” he mutters.
I snort. “Not if I kill him first.