Chapter 9
STEFAN
The house feels colder than usual. Or maybe it’s just the ice churning through my veins as I descend the stairs.
Half my thoughts stay on the upper floor. Olivia is upstairs now, locked away, digesting whatever poison my mother fed her.
And I’m down here, about to face the woman who helped orchestrate this whole fucking disaster.
Mikayla’s exactly where I left her. She rounds on me the second I enter, eyes blazing. “Did you find them?”
“We found Olivia.” I close the door behind me. “Natalia got away.”
“That’s unlike you.”
“She had a head start.” I pour myself coffee from the carafe someone left on the side table. It’s cold, but right now, I don’t care. The bitter taste matches my mood. Besides, what I really need is vodka and it’s not the right time for that.
Mikayla’s hands clench and unclench at her sides. I notice they’re blotchy—red patches of eczema spreading across her knuckles. A nervous reaction that happens anytime she feels out of control. Eight years of watching her, and I know every tell, every weakness.
Just like she knows mine.
“The information you gave me checked out.”
She nods, eager for approval. “I told you. You could trust me.”
That gets a laugh out of me. “One correct tip doesn’t erase years of betrayal, Mikayla. Olivia is back, sure. But you still sold me out.”
She freezes. The color drains from her face. “What are you saying?”
“That you’ve got a long way to go before I trust you again.” I cross my legs and watch her squirm. “But you can earn it back. We can fix this. You just have to prove you’re loyal.”
She takes a step back, and I can see her mind working. Calculating. “How?”
“Honesty. That’s all I ever wanted from you.”
Her expression goes flat. Dead. “What do you want to know?”
“How did you meet Natalia? Who approached who? When did this start?”
She goes pale, swallows. “But that’s not all you want, is it?”
“I need to know how Iakov fits into this. Because he’s involved. I know that much. But I’m starting to think he’s not running the show. He’s just another piece on the board. Same as you.”
She flinches. “You’re using me.”
“I’m trying to fix what you broke.”
Her eyes go wild. Wounded and furious at the same time. “Liar! You manipulated me. You told me what I wanted to hear so you could get that bitch back. You don’t actually want me. You never did.”
Her lips tremble when she says it. First time I’ve seen her armor crack. It almost makes me feel guilty.
Then I remember she put Olivia in danger. She handed information to my mother knowing exactly what Natalia would do with it.
Just like that, all my guilt evaporates.
“That’s not true.” I get up and walk over to her, invading her space, lowering my voice to a croon. “I care about you, Mikayla. I just didn’t know you felt this way.”
She lifts her chin in defiance. “You knew. I approached you. More than once. I made the offer—”
“You were offering sex,” I remind her. “I don’t mix business and pleasure. But it seems—” I touch her cheek and she goes still. “—you wanted more than that.”
“I stopped spying on you for her,” she insists. “For almost two years, I went dark. I stopped answering her calls. I stopped meeting her. I gave her nothing. Because I fucking cared about you. I gave you everything. And you never even noticed.”
There’s real pain in her voice. Real hurt. For a second, I almost believe she means it.
“You can’t blame me for that,” I tell her. “You’re good at hiding what you feel.”
“So are you. Why should I believe you now?”
“Because I’m asking you to.” I move closer, close enough to kiss her. She holds her breath, and I can feel her pulse racing. “But something changed, didn’t it? What made you go back to Natalia?”
She turns her back to me, and her shoulders hunch like she’s bracing for a blow. “She entered the picture.”
That’s that, then. The turning point. Mikayla watched me fall for Olivia. Her jealousy sent her straight back to Natalia. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and all that bullshit.
“Mikayla…” I tower over her, and she has to crane her neck to look at me. “You thought I chose another woman, so you ran back to my mother?”
“You made it very clear who you wanted.”
“It was an act.”
Her nostrils flare. “So you keep saying.”
I throw my fist in the air, frustrated beyond belief. Then I brace myself against the mantel, close enough that she feels my body heat. Close enough to intimidate. “Stop playing the jilted lover. It doesn’t suit you.”
“You want me to put everything on the table? Tell you what I know so you can trust me again?” She shoves my chest hard enough that I actually move back an inch. “How fucking stupid do you think I am?”
“Since you admitted you’re working with my mother? Pretty fucking stupid.”
“I’m not telling you a damn thing.”
I hide my anger behind a smile. Her pupils dilate. She takes a step back, but she’s not running. Not yet. “What if I ask nicely?”
She looks at the mantel where my hand rests, then back at me. “You really think we have a future together?”
“I can’t guarantee anything. You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep. But we can try.”
Her cheeks flush. Hope brightens her eyes, and I almost feel bad for what I’m about to do to her.
Almost.
“Then prove it.”
I wasn’t expecting that. “Prove it?”
She nods, emboldened now. “You heard me.”
“And how would you suggest I do that?”
The gleam in her eyes tells me I just walked into her trap. She has me cornered and I didn’t even see it coming. She’s better at this than I gave her credit for.
“Kiss me.”
She puts her hand on my chest, and her nails dig in just enough to remind me she’s not Olivia. That she never will be.
“Kiss me, Stefan. Like you mean it. Then we can talk.”
Instinct pulls me closer. I can count her eyelashes. Smell the stale coffee on her breath mixing with that desperate perfume. See the lipstick caked on her cracked lips.
Was there ever a time I found her attractive? I can’t remember anymore.
She closes her eyes. Her breath tickles my chin as she arches up toward me, and I can feel her trembling.
With want.
With hope.
With the certainty that she’s finally won.
A few years ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I would have shoved the truth aside and done what she asked until she believed I cared, I wanted her. And once she felt secure in my performance, once she was soft and pliant and trusting, I would have gotten exactly what I needed from her.
And no, I wouldn’t have felt guilty.
Why would I? Mikayla never felt guilty all those times she seduced her way to sensitive information. It’s part of the job. Right now, my job is calling for the same thing. Demanding it, actually.
Except Olivia would never understand.
And as I look down at Mikayla’s expectant face, at her parted lips and closed eyes, I realize something that stops me cold. Even if Olivia did understand, even if she told me it was fine, I can’t fucking do it.
I shove Mikayla aside. She stumbles back, eyes snapping open. Betrayal floods her face, followed quickly by rage. “You asshole. You lied to me. You used me!”
I don’t look apologetic because I’m not. “I had to get her back somehow.”
The scream that tears out of her throat is inhuman. She grabs the poker from the fireplace and swings it at my head with enough force to crack my skull open. Her rage must be blinding her because she misses by several inches. Unusual for her.
I pivot and grab the poker by the handle, yanking it from her hands. She loses her balance and hits the floor hard.
Before I can toss the poker away, she’s already up and launching herself at me again. Nails out. Teeth bared. A feral she-wolf with nothing left to lose.
But I’m done playing nice. I grab her by the neck. Before she can claw my eyes out, I give her a headbutt that knocks her unconscious.
She crumples, and I have to catch her before she brains herself on the coffee table.
I drop her on the sofa and ping Taras. He shows up two minutes later, breathing hard, eyes wild. “What the fuck happened?” he asks as he takes in the chaotic scene.
I clear my throat and straighten my shirt. “I’ll explain later. Move her back to the basement cell. I want eyes on her twenty-four-seven.”
“Did she tell you anything else?” Taras looks at Mikayla’s unconscious body sprawled across the sofa, one arm dangling off the side. “About Natalia or Iakov?”
“Nothing yet. But she might still have information.”
Taras snorts. “After this, you have a better chance of her turning into a bat and flying out of the basement than telling you something useful. You might as well just kill her, brother.”
That would be easier. Cleaner. More practical. But my conscience won’t let me, and that’s new. That’s different.
Another thing to blame Olivia for.
“Just move her.”
Taras sighs and hoists Mikayla over his shoulder. “And then what?”
I pour myself another cup of cold coffee and down it in one gulp. “Then I find my mother and finish the fucking job.”