32. Nikolai
Nikolai
I don’t understand why she’s so angry. I told her about the threat. I’m handling it. That’s what I do: I manage problems so the people I care about don’t have to worry.
In my world, you protect people by shielding them from unnecessary details. You assess the threat, neutralize it, and it’s done. Why talk about it?
Gabby clearly doesn’t see it that way.
I get dressed and walk downstairs. It’s early, but the house is already humming. We’ve had lockdowns before, but this one is different.
Pasha is at the kitchen island with coffee and his laptop. He looks up when I enter. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.” I pour a mug of coffee and stare at him. “I’ll be in my office.”
His eyebrows lift. “No breakfast?”
“Not hungry.”
I walk out. I won’t admit that I don’t want to be in the kitchen when she comes down. That would mean I’m hiding in my own house. I’m not.
Pasha closes the door as I take my seat. “What happened?” he asks.
“She’s overreacting.”
“Gabby.”
“I told her about Luke being followed. Told her to stay home while I handle things. She got mad.”
“Because you told her to stay home?”
“Because I didn’t tell her about the man in the park. It’s over. It was nothing. The more I think about it, the less I believe it was the Italians.”
“Ah.” He nods. “I understand.”
“What do you understand? You agree with her?”
“A little.”
I frown. “Why? I kept them safe. That’s what matters.”
“She’s not one of your soldiers.” Pasha sets down his coffee. “She’s been on her own for a long time. She’s had to protect herself and her kid without anyone’s help. A parent will always believe they’re the best person to protect their child. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“Because a parent won’t hesitate to sacrifice their life for their child. It’s instinct. Hers is demanding she sacrifice herself, and you took that choice from her.”
I frown. “There wasn’t any real danger.”
“She doesn’t know that.”
I’m quiet, trying to fit that into what I know.
“You took away the only power she has—knowledge. Information.” He sighs and absently rubs the bandage on his head. “You made a decision about her son’s safety without consulting her. How do you think that makes her feel?”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“I know. But she doesn’t need to be protected from information. She needs you to trust her with it.”
Trust isn’t something I know how to do.
“I wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice my life for Luke,” I say.
He smiles. “I know. She’s still learning that.”
“What do you actually know about her?” Pasha asks softly. “This reaction might be coming from somewhere else.”
“What do you mean?”
“This woman who just appeared in your life a few weeks ago. You know she isn’t who she says she is. This could be a bigger problem than either of us knows.”
“What are you saying, Pasha? That she’s an asset planted in my home?” I think about her cursing in Italian. The fake identity. “She’s not who she says she is, but she’s not a threat.”
“Are you sure about that? Or have you been so blinded by the sex that you haven’t asked the hard questions?”
My anger flares. “Watch it.”
"I'm serious, Nik. She's living in your house. Around your people. Around your business. And you don't even know her real name."
My anger cools enough for me to hear what he’s saying. “You found something.”
“Not exactly.” He pulls out his phone. “I kept digging like you asked. Quietly. Every time I get close to something useful, the trail shuts down. Records that should exist don’t. Records that do exist are too clean. No mistakes. No loose ends.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’ve built identities. I know what a good one costs. This is better than good. Someone protected her well enough that even I can’t pull the thread all the way.”
I hear what he isn’t saying, and I don’t like it. “You think this is bigger than a forged identity.”
He shrugs. “It’s possible. She’s likely hiding from someone with enough reach to make this necessary.”
My thumb and forefinger rub faster.
“You need to be careful,” Pasha says quietly. “I’m sorry. I know you like her. You care about the boy, but something isn’t right.”
My mind is cataloging every word, interaction, and reaction I've observed in Gabby. I put each one into a box. The fake name. The Italian curses she lets slip. A scared mother. Terrified of cops in a way that has nothing to do with speeding tickets.
None of it fits. Every piece I add makes the picture less clear.
I don't like incomplete pictures.
My fingers rub together as the tingling at the base of my spine intensifies. I'm breathing too fast. My vision darkens at the edges.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Pasha says calmly, already out of his chair.
I hear him, but I can’t move. The buzzing in my ears gets louder. I want to move. Stand up. But this happens. Sometimes, I can’t.
Pasha grips my arm and pulls me from the chair. He walks me to the window, opens it, and stands beside me. “Focus on the tree, Nik. Count the leaves. See the trunk touching the rocks. Flat, tan rocks.”
My fingers are still rubbing together. Both hands now. Faster. I feel the heat generating.
I’m really trying. I see the rocks and force my brain to count them.
“Hot breeze,” Pasha says. “Gardener watering the plants. Smell the earth.”
We stand there for what feels like hours.
My shoulders relax. The buzzing fades. I inhale and exhale slowly.
“Everyone needs protecting.” Pasha puts a hand on my shoulder. “Even you. Especially when you’re falling in love.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he walks away.
I stand there, counting the rocks. Focusing on tangible things.
Falling in love. I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to feel that.
But I do know that losing her is not an option.
It’s well after one in the morning when I finally emerge from my office. I’ve been thinking about Gabby for hours. I need answers. And I need them now.
I walk down the hallway toward her room.
Her door is open a few inches. She leaves it that way, so she can hear Luke. I push it wider and stop in the doorway, watching her sleep.
“Nikolai!” She jolts upright and reaches for the lamp. “What are you doing? You scared the hell out of me!”
“We need to talk.”
She stares at me. “What time is it?”
“Almost two.”
“We’ll talk in the morning,” she says.
“I don’t know what I did wrong.”
She sighs. “Nik, it’s late. I don’t want to do this right now. Tomorrow.”
“Why don’t you trust me?”
She blinks and rubs her face. “What?”
“I tell you I’m handling the situation. I tell you Luke is safe. You’re both safe. But you don’t believe me.” I move closer. “Why?”
“This isn’t about trust.”
“It’s exactly about trust.” I’m standing over her now. “I’ve done everything I know how to do. Tell me.”
“Nik, not now. Go to bed.”
“I’ve let you in,” I say. “And you still don’t trust me enough to let me protect you.”
She stands, and I have to take a step back. “You didn’t tell me that someone was following my son.”
“Because I handled it.”
“That’s not your decision to make!”
“It is when I’m trying to keep you safe!” I’m shouting before I realize it. “I’m dealing with the threats, so you don’t have to.”
“I never asked you to do any of that.”
“You won’t even tell me your real name,” I say. “You won’t tell me why you’re hiding. And you expect me to just accept whatever bullshit story you feed me?”
She steps back until the backs of her knees hit the mattress, and her eyes go wide. “What are you talking about?”
“Who are you?” I demand. “Really. Who the fuck are you, Gabby? Or is that even your name?”
The silence stretches between us. I watch her close herself off, shutting me out.
“That’s what I thought,” I say quietly.
“You want to know why I don’t trust you?” Her voice shakes. “Because every time I trust someone, it ends badly.”
I stare at her, trying to sort through the thoughts to ask a question.
“You’re asking me to give up the only control I have left.” Every word is deliberate. “I’m not helpless. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“I never said you were helpless.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She’s breathing harder now.
“Get out,” she whispers.
“I handled it,” I say again.
It’s my only defense. It’s the only thing that matters.
“Just go, Nikolai.” Her voice is tired now. I hear the defeat. “Please. Just go.”
I want to argue. Want to make her understand.
But I don't know how.
So I turn and walk out, closing the door behind me.
I sit on the edge of my bed and replay every word and reaction. I break it down like a threat assessment: cause, response, outcome. Her goal is to protect her son. I kept him safe. He's good. Happy. Thriving.
By every metric I know how to measure, I did what I was supposed to do.
So why does it feel like I lost her?
Damn it, Gabby. Why won’t you let me handle this for you?