Chapter 5
Emerald
The days after the kiss felt strange in a way I hated admitting, even to myself. Not bad strange. Worse. The kind that sat beneath my skin and followed me around like an itch I couldn’t scratch no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.
Every single time I closed my eyes, I remembered him. The pressure of his mouth against mine. The heat of his hand at my waist. The sharp inhale he’d taken like he hadn’t expected it either. Then the way he’d pushed me back afterward like I was something dangerous.
Go in your room, Emerald.
Like I was a child being scolded instead of the girl he’d kissed hard enough to make my knees weak. Which was rude, honestly. Extremely rude.
If a man was going to kiss me like that, the least he could do afterward was have the decency to look equally affected instead of turning into some emotionally constipated statue pretending nothing happened. I hated that it bothered me. I hated that I kept replaying it anyway.
The estate had gone quieter over the following days, though maybe that was only because I’d started avoiding him on purpose. Which was difficult considering the man somehow managed to exist everywhere at once without actually speaking to anyone.
Twice I’d caught sight of him in the hallways. Once in the library. Another time outside near the gates speaking to two men in dark suits while rain poured around them like something out of a dramatic mafia movie. Every single time my stomach had done something embarrassingly stupid.
I told myself it was irritation. My body apparently disagreed. Which was honestly betrayal of the highest form.
I spent most of those days tucked inside my room pretending I enjoyed being alone, which was a lie because I was starting to get bored enough to rearrange furniture again purely for entertainment.
One of the guards had nearly had a heart attack when he walked past and saw me dragging a chair across the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Interior design,” I’d answered.
“With a dining chair?”
“Yes. ”
“That chair belongs downstairs.”
“And now it belongs here.”
He’d stared at me like I was mentally unstable. Which was fair. However, in my defense, captivity was boring.
I’d already read half the books in the library, insulted three guards, stolen Viktor’s coffee twice, and attempted to convince the kitchen staff to make me chocolate pancakes at midnight. They’d said no. Tyranny. Absolute tyranny.
Still, underneath the boredom and sarcasm and pretending I was completely unaffected by the kiss, something heavier kept settling inside my chest every time I thought about what Nikolai had told me that night.
His version of love. Not soft. Not pretty. Not normal, but devastatingly loyal. The kind that burned everything else to the ground. The kind that chose one person and never let go. You become their weakness. Their reason. Their obsession.
I should’ve been horrified by it. Instead, I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I wanted someone to love me like that. Not halfway. Not carefully. Not with conditions attached. I wanted someone who would choose me first every single time.
Maybe that said something deeply concerning about me psychologically, but honestly my family tree was already a disaster. What was one more issue ?
By the fourth day of avoiding Nikolai, I finally decided I should probably call Roman before he burned down an entire country looking for me. Which felt likely. My brother was many things. Stable was not one of them.
I found Viktor downstairs in the kitchen early that afternoon leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand while two guards argued quietly near the back door. He looked up when I entered.
“Well,” he sighed dramatically, “the hostage emerges.”
I grabbed an apple from the counter. “I’m not hiding.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I’m selectively socializing.”
“With everyone except Nikolai.”
I pointed the apple at him. “You watch your mouth, Viktor.”
He snorted into his coffee. Unfortunately for me, Viktor had become entirely too comfortable around me over the last few weeks. Probably because I’d started treating him less like terrifying mafia muscle and more like an exhausted uncle who desperately needed therapy.
“You need something?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said immediately. “I would like pancakes. ”
“You already had breakfast.”
“That sounds judgmental.”
“It was judgmental.”
I sighed dramatically before taking a bite of the apple. “Fine. I actually wanted to ask if I could call Roman.”
That got his attention. Viktor lowered his mug slowly. “Your brother?”
“No, Roman from accounting.”
His stare flattened. I smiled sweetly.
“I figured,” I continued, “he’s probably threatening world leaders at this point and maybe I should let him know I’m alive before he starts a war.”
Viktor rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I’ll have to ask Nikolai.”
I rolled my eyes immediately. “Oh my God. Why? Is he afraid I’m going to reveal secret mafia coordinates?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I literally don’t even know where I am.”
“That’s intentional.”
I muttered something rude under my breath. Still, Viktor eventually nodded once. “I’ll talk to him. ”
“Thank you,” I said, softer this time.
His expression shifted slightly, because beneath all my sarcasm and dramatics, everyone here knew one thing by now.
I missed my brother. Even when I was angry with him, even when I thought he treated me like glass, Roman had always been my person.
Which made everything between us feel worse somehow.
I grabbed another apple for the road because theft built character, then headed back upstairs.
The hallway outside my room was quiet. I pushed the door open with my shoulder while taking another bite from the apple. Then froze.
Nikolai stood near the massive window overlooking the gardens behind the estate, his back facing me as sunlight spilled across the dark fabric of his shirt.
God. That man had the broadest shoulders I’d ever seen in my life.
It should’ve been illegal honestly. He stood perfectly still, one hand tucked into his pocket while the other rested loosely near his side, but I could still see the movement beneath the fabric every time he shifted slightly.
Muscle. Strength. Controlled violence wrapped in expensive black clothing.
Heat rushed into my face before I could stop it. All I could think about was touching him. My palms sliding across his back. Feeling those muscles tense beneath my hands. Feeling—absolutely not. I mentally slapped myself. Hard .
His head tilted slightly, enough for me to know he was aware I’d entered the room the second I stepped inside. The man moved through life like a predator.
Apparently I was stupid, because instead of leaving immediately like a sane person, I kept staring at him.
“You’re loud when you think.”
His low gravelly voice cut through the room. I nearly choked on my apple.
“What?”
Slowly, he turned toward me. Dark eyes landed on mine. “Your face gives everything away.”
Rude. I crossed my arms. “That sounds fake.”
“It isn’t.”
“You can’t hear thoughts.”
“No,” he said evenly, “but I can see you staring at me.”
Heat climbed farther into my cheeks. Traitorous cheeks. His gaze flicked briefly toward the apple in my hand before returning to my face.
“Are you going to keep staring,” he asked smoothly, “or are you going to ask me directly for the favor you asked Viktor? ”
I narrowed my eyes immediately. “I hate when all of you communicate.”
“One of us has to.”
“Wow. That felt targeted.”
A faint twitch touched the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but enough to make my heart do something humiliating. I ignored it aggressively.
“I wanted to call Roman,” I admitted.
Nikolai studied me for a moment before asking, “And what do I get in return?”
I blinked. Then scoffed. “Oh my God, are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“You kidnapped me?”
“And yet here you are asking me for something.”
I stared at him. He stared back. Honestly the audacity was almost impressive.
Finally, I sighed dramatically. “Maybe I’ll be quiet for five entire minutes.”
A soft sound escaped him. Not fully a laugh. Close enough that it startled me, because Nikolai almost never laughed. Somehow knowing I’d pulled that sound from him made warmth bloom low in my stomach. Very inconvenient.
“Fine,” he said.
I straightened immediately. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God. Thank you.”
“But,” he added calmly, “I stay in the room while you talk to him.”
My excitement vanished. “That’s weird.”
“It’s necessary.”
“You think I’m going to reveal your secret evil lair?”
“I think Roman Deveraux would track the call if given enough time.”
“…fair,” I admitted.
He pulled a phone from his pocket and held it out toward me.
I walked closer to take it, trying very hard not to notice how good he smelled.
Clean. Dark. Dangerously masculine. It was unfair really.
No man who looked like that should also smell good.
There should’ve been at least one flaw. I took the phone quickly before my brain embarrassed me further.
Roman answered on the second ring .
“Talk.”
I snorted instantly. Only Roman could make a single word sound like a threat.
“Wow,” I said dryly, “you answer phones like an angry mob boss.”
Silence. Then, “Emerald?”
“Hi, Rommie!”
The reaction was instant.
“Are you okay? Where are you? What the fuck happened? Did he hurt you? Put him on the phone. I’m going to kill him.”
I laughed before I could stop myself. Across the room, Nikolai leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed watching me carefully. Roman sounded absolutely feral.
“This isn’t funny,” Roman snapped immediately. “Where the fuck are you?”
“I literally don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I mean I don’t know.”
“Emerald— ”
“I’m okay,” I interrupted more softly. “Really.”
Roman went quiet for a second. Then, more controlled this time, “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did he touch you?”