Chapter 24
Nikolai
Q uinn has been handsy for the past two and a half hours. I never fully enjoyed Quinn’s touch before but having her near me now makes me physically sick. Any place her body touches mine, whether it’s her leg brushing against mine or her hand on my arm, it sears my skin.
If it wasn’t for the very crowded club, I would toss her ass over the balcony. In a less extreme manner, I would have dragged her out of the club completely. But that’s what she wants. A scene. To crack my composure, to ruin my business.
She won’t pay for this now, but she will later.
She most definitely will.
“I’m sure if we keep blasting good music, the crowd won’t realize we don’t have performers,” Dmitriy surmises.
Andrei quips. “It’s not about what they don’t notice, it’s about good business practice.”
“It’s the principle,” Anton chimes in.
“With all the celebrities here tonight we should be able to get one of them to perform.” I push Quinn’s hand off my leg as I stand moving towards the balcony, grabbing a drink from the server’s tray before she leaves. “Who doesn’t want free publicity— ”
“Niko.” Sergei greets me before he sits in the seat next to Quinn, looking perfectly fine.
“I thought you were at home nursing your stomach.” I say over the rim of my glass of vodka.
He shrugs. “I feel better now.”
Bullshit. His eyes are bloodshot red and he looks pissed
Before I can check him, the club lights go out, and the groans of the patrons permeate the room.
“What the fuck is going on. If we blew a fuse, I’m going to blow an eye vessel,” Anton complains.
A melodic voice pours through the speaker before a single light shines down to the platform below. Her back is towards us, the audience.
“Anton, I thought you said the performers cancelled.” Dmitriy states. He’s as confused as the rest of us are.
“They did,” he answers.
The crowd is completely silent, the rowdiness from earlier long gone. Whoever she is, she has our undivided attention.
When the singer pauses at a song line, the crowd fills in the words she left unsung. She and the crowd slowly amp up before the DJ starts and drops the beat. When she turns around, the crowd goes insane.
And so do I.
It’s my fucking wife.
Aspen is on stage in an outfit I didn’t know she had in the closet.
She has on a crop top that is designed to look like tactical gear but for the stage, with sequins in a grid pattern.
Her long sleeves extend to her wrists, and she wears a pleated skirt that kisses the top of her thighs.
Her heeled boots rise to mid-thigh, leaving a small gap of flesh between the boots and skirt.
Her hair is in dark brown waves pulled into a high ponytail that cascades down her back. It swings with every movement of her choreography. She commands the crowd with her presence alone.
She commands me.
“Anton, you booked fucking Aspen Martin?” Andrei squeals, sounding like a fanboy.
Completely stunned, he replies, “n-no. Her agent said she retired.”
I eye them both. “How do you know my wife?”
“Aspen’s your wife?” Andrei squeals again. “The world-renowned R&B Pop star, Aspen Martin, is your wife?”
I nod my head, pulling my attention back to her. Sure, I looked into her file, but I would have never guessed she was this well known. Looking down at her, she is completely in her element.
“What’s so special about her?” Quinn seethes behind me.
“Quinn, are you fucking serious?” Anton chides. “She is the people’s princess. The Pope is her unofficial godfather. The fucking Pope, Quinn. He loves her. Everyone does.”
After several songs, she addresses the crowd.
“Thank you, Moscow, for hosting me tonight. Enjoy Dom Noctis’ opening night!”
The crowd chants her name as she’s escorted off the stage by the club’s bodyguards.
Turning to leave the office suite, Quinn jumps in front of me, blocking my exit. “You’re just going to leave your guest here?” she huffs, crossing her arms in front of her.
“You’re not my guest, Quinn.” I move to sidestep her but when she blocks me again, it takes all the willpower I can muster to rein in my apparent frustration.
“Let her find you . You can’t keep chasing after her, she has to learn to chase after you.”
“Like what you’re doing now? Quinn, if I wanted to be with you, I would have chosen you. I choose her. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I go to move around her, again.
“If you walk away from me, I will send her videos of us fucking. Do you think she will want you after she sees how you like to degrade women?”
I take a menacing step toward Quinn, our chest now touching. “I dare—”
Vanilla and jasmine.
My head snaps to the doorway where Aspen stands there with the aura of a goddess.
“What is it that you want to show me?”
Aspen’s voice is deceptively cheery. I take several steps back from Quinn.
“Oh, those videos? Sweetie those skills of yours are mediocre at best and elementary at worst.” Aspen walks up to Quinn, grabbing a few strands of her red hair, rubbing them between her fingers.
“I know it may be a bit embarrassing, but I can teach you a thing or two to help you improve. There’s nothing to be shy about between us girls, right? ”
Quinn’s face reddens and I fight to hide my grin. Besides my father and I killing four of our best soldiers for Aspen, I don’t think I have ever seen Quinn stunned before now .
Aspen and I both know we’ve never had sex. Besides my father and Dr. Sullivan, no one else will ever know about that. That doesn’t stop me from being proud of her staking her territory over me.
“No wonder why Niko decimates me in bed every night.”
I raise my brow at her.
“Like a starved caveman, because he is one. I guess sex with you was… unfulfilling.”
It was.
That’s it baby, kill her reality.
Aspen pats Quinn’s shoulder and her face shatters as if her daydream of us has finally been snuffed out.
Aspen looks at me over her shoulder. “Niko, baby, what’s with that face?” She stalks towards me with confidence and a hint of menace. Standing in front of me, her hand cuffs my jaw. “This is your opening night, we’re supposed to be celebrating.”
She calls for a server to bring us vodka before she moves further into the suite. Each step she takes is calculated as she slowly strides against the balcony, dragging her fingertips along its edges.
She’s quiet, too quiet.
I don’t speak because her feline movements scream this is not the time for interruption. Especially from me. When she pauses in the center, turning to face all of us in the room, my shoulders stiffen.
“Nikolai.”
Fuck, we’re on full first name basis again.
“Is this why you didn’t want me here for opening night?”
“What—”
“You didn’t want me to see your escort friend providing you and your partners some,” she flicks her wrists dismissively, “entertainment?”
Quinn moves towards Aspen, I block her, placing myself between them.
“Do you find me docile?” Aspen asks.
“Malyshka, it’s not—”
“You. Do you know who I am?” she directs her question to Anton.
“Hell yea I do. Who wouldn’t?” he answers.
I move towards Aspen, but she puts her finger up to stop me.
Anton starts again, “by the way your last album was amazing. Your songs are always on repeat.”
Aspen juts her head towards Dmitriy. “What about you?”
“Of course. My wife is your biggest fan.”
She hums and I don’t like the contemplative sound coming from her.
“You see all those people?”
With her eyes on me, she points behind her. My eyes go to the thousands dancing and drinking below.
“Why is that they and your little buddies here know who the fuck I am and not you?” She tilts her head waiting for a response.
“Why would he?” Quinn asks smugly, finding her voice again. “Powerful men have bigger things to focus on than on one hit, wannabe singers.”
Aspen bobs her head. “One hit wannabe,” she mutters, pulling out her lipstick from her back pocket.
Fuck.
“Malyshka.” I raise my hands to placate her.
Her silence is her permission for me to continue but her eyes are telling me to be careful with what I’m about to say.
I slowly move closer to her. “I know you’re angry.”
“I’m not,” she snaps.
Inhaling a deep breath, I continue. “It’s not what it seems. I didn’t invite Quinn, she came on her own. I’ve told her to leave—”
Quinn huffs a laugh. “I belong here. You don’t have to explain shit to her. This is our world, not hers.”
Aspen fingers fiddle with her lipstick and the image of her cutting off that man’s head comes to mind.
Never removing my eyes from Aspen, I toss my words behind my back. “Quinn, get the fuck out of here. You’re upsetting my wife. As far as anyone is concerned this is her world because she is mine and I say who belongs, not you.”
Aspen’s eyes twitch.
That’s fucking right, you’re mine and always will be.
“My father will not have this. You will regret this.”
Aspen moves so fast, she’s in front of Quinn before I can register it.
“The only person here who will have regrets is you when your father finds you floating in the Moskva River. Headless.”
Although the club is full of warm bodies, the suite grows cold and all eyes land on Aspen.
Quinn’s face drains. “Nikolai, you’re going to allow her to threaten me?!”
“Not a threat. A promise. Cutting your head off will be like cutting butter. Smooth and fluid.”
Quinn stumbles back. “You sick bitch.”
She goes to raise her hand but Aspen is faster. She throat punches Quinn. Twice .
Her feet clumsily crosses over each other as she shuffles about in the suite, bumping into a server, forcing them to drop their drink tray. Sergei is by her side instantly helping her balance herself, his facial expression tight.
Quinn shout over her shoulder. “Fuck her and fuck you Nikolai!”
Sergei watches as she descends the stairs and blends into the crowd.
The room fills with awkward silence as we all try to process what just happened.
“Aspen, baby,” I start gently but firm because she, my business partners and cousin need to understand what I’m about to say. “I tolerate Quinn because she’s a part of the Bratva. I do not care about her, but this is business.”
Aspen throws her hands up. “And that makes it ok for her to be draped all over you? In fucking public? While you have a whole wife at home? Be fucking serious, Nikolai.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I tell her, “I can’t blow up on her in a club full of people. This is my place of business. I was going to handle it.”
“When?” She angles her head, eyes sharpening. “Before or after I got here?”
I drag a hand over my face. “Aspen—”
She pushes past me. When I grab her arm, she quickly snatches it away. She doesn’t spare me a glance when she leaves and I don’t follow her.
Fuck.
“Trouble in paradise, cousin?” Sergei lights a cigar and takes a long drag as he sits on one of the sofas.
He hasn’t said much all night, but now he wants to.
As if he isn’t the entire reason Quinn’s head and blood were merely seconds away from being separated from her body.
Aspen would have made good on her promise.
I know it too, her eyes were void of all humor.
Fuck, the club starting and ending on the same night would have been the least of our problems. Aspen killing Quinn would have thrown the Bratva in chaos.
There’s a reason I have been handling Quinn with kid gloves all this time.
“Why the fuck did you bring her here?” I snap.
I snatch one of the seven glasses of vodka the servant brought off her tray. I swallow the cold liquid whole before slamming it on the table in front of Sergei. Our business partners watch us silently while pretending to be busy talking about something else.
Sergei rolls his shoulders, unconcerned. “I thought you wanted her here.”
My blood roars. “What. The. Fuck. Why would I want that? We still have danger lurking from every corner. Why would I want my fucking wife in the middle of it?”
I move closer to Sergei with measured intent. I could kill him right here and now and he would no doubt deserve it. However, breaking my uncle’s heart by killing his only son by his late first wife doesn’t feel right.
“But Quinn can be a casualty of war? She’s our fucking friend but you just dropped her for this fucking stranger?”
Pulling my gun out from my side holster, I point it at his head. The room goes still.
“What the fuck are you saying Sergei? Stranger? That’s my fucking wife.”
He lets out a dry laugh and instantly I strike him with the butt of my gun before I find myself on top of him, silencing him with every blow. It takes Anton, Dmitriy and Andrei to pull me off a disoriented Sergei.
He’s fine, he’ll heal and wake in ten minutes in tip-top shape. And when he does, he better be ready for me to do this shit all over again.
I forcefully straighten my suit jacket before I scan the club, looking for her. Dmitriy must notice the anger radiating off me and recognize who I’m searching for when he says, “she’s dancing. Over there.” He points to the dance floor below.
Who the fuck is that next to Aspen?
Her face lights up, smiling, after something he says.
My blood boils when I see some tall, four-eyed fuck cuffing her face. With how close they are and how she holds his wrist lets me know he’s familiar to her. Too fucking familiar. Who is he? Her past lover? Is he the one that taught her the tricks she said she could teach Quinn?
What, we have one blowout and now she thinks she can ride off into the sunset with another man?
Fuck that.
I move to go to her, but Dmitriy grabs my shoulder. “Don’t. Not like this,” he warns.
“Let me go D. We’ve been partners for decades, but I will break your arm if you don’t unhand me, right the fuck now.”
Dmitriy raises his hand in mock surrender, the gold flecks in his eyes glinting from the limelight ahead.
When I look back down to Aspen and her lover, she’s dancing, doing the—
The macarena.