Chapter 3 - Nico
“Another.”
The bartender glanced at the nearly empty bottle beside me, something flashing in his eyes.
“Sir, I think you’ve had enough.”
I slid a hundred-dollar bill across the counter without looking at him. “Another.”
The bill disappeared, and so did the objection.
A fresh glass appeared in front of me moments later.
I stared at the amber liquid, drinking half of it in one swallow.
It burned, but not enough. Nothing burned enough these days.
Not the alcohol. Not the cigarettes I had picked up again after nearly four years without touching one.
Not the sleepless nights and definitely not the image of Vera standing before that wedding dress, getting ready to get married to that asshole.
The bar around me pulsed with noise as music vibrated through the floorboards.
People laughed too loudly, and glasses clinked.
A woman somewhere behind me was flirting with a man who was pretending not to enjoy it.
Despite the alcohol in my system, I heard all of it, but none of it mattered.
Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw white lace.
Every time I took a breath, I remembered that church.
And every single time I remembered that church, I remembered the look on Vera’s face when she turned around and saw me.
I lifted my glass again.
“You’re making a spectacle of yourself.” The voice was familiar. Deep, controlled, and definitely disappointed. I didn’t turn around but took another sip of my drink instead.
“That’s unfortunate,” I said.
“Nico.”
I closed my eyes. It was Kliment. I should have known someone would find me eventually.
I had left Vera at the safehouse and had disappeared for three days.
Viktor had probably reported it to Kliment directly.
Or maybe Jarek had tracked my phone. Or maybe my brothers simply knew me too well to know exactly where to find me.
I felt someone take the stool beside me, and another body settled on my other side.
Then another.
Wonderful.
The entire fucking family was here.
I finally turned my head, and Jarek grinned.
Fyodor looked mildly concerned, and I couldn’t blame him.
I probably looked like shit. I didn’t even remember the last time I had slept properly or changed clothes.
My suit was rumpled, and my brown hair was a mess.
My green eyes were bloodshot, and I felt like a homeless man.
Kliment looked exactly the way an older brother looked when he was debating whether to strangle you or help you.
Once again, I couldn’t blame him. I had brought this on myself.
“Nice place,” Jarek said, looking at the seedy bar.
“It’s awful.”
“It really is,” Jarek agreed.
“Then why are you all here?”
Jarek shrugged. “Because you’re here.”
I stared at him, and he stared back before stealing the drink from my hand. I considered stabbing him, but I simply turned around and ordered another.
“You look terrible,” Fyodor said. “You smell like whiskey and sweat. I’m not sure when the last time you bothered to shave.”
“Thank you.”
“You might be depressed,” Jarek added, taking a sip of my drink.
“See?” I looked toward Jarek. “This is why nobody likes him. He always passes judgment before thinking twice.”
Fyodor rolled his eyes, but Kliment remained silent. That worried me more than anything because Kliment only stayed quiet when he was assessing a situation or preparing for a war. The bartender returned with another drink, and I grabbed it immediately.
“Nico.”
Kliment’s voice was calm. Too calm.
“What?”
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Nico.”
I sighed and finally looked at him, but his expression didn’t change. I knew that look. The one who said he already knew something was wrong. The one that said he wasn’t leaving until he found out exactly what it was.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
Jarek snorted.
“Nico.”
“Nothing happened.”
“You disappeared. Viktor reached out to me, saying you were nowhere to be found,” Kliment added, confirming my suspicions.
Goddamned Viktor and his concern for me.
“I was busy.”
“Doing what?” Fyodor asked.
“Being miserable.”
I took a sip of my drink, and nobody spoke. Which was unfortunate because if they kept being quiet, I might actually have to think. And thinking was exactly what I was trying to avoid. The alcohol helped a little bit with that, but every few seconds, the memories came back.
Always.
Fucking always.
I laughed suddenly. A bitter sound.
“What?” Kliment asked, his gaze trained on me.
I looked down at my glass. “Do you know what the worst part about all this is?”
Nobody answered. Good. Because I wasn’t asking.
“I spent months imagining it.” The words came out before I could stop them. “I imagined finding her and dragging her away and making her regret all of it.”
The stool beside me shifted, but nobody interrupted.
“I spent months surviving because of that one thought, but I couldn’t even follow through with that.”
“Nico—”
“No.” I pointed at Kliment. “Let me finish.”
His jaw tightened, but he nodded. So I continued.
“I thought revenge would fix it.” The confession tasted worse than the whiskey. “I thought if I could make her hurt the way I hurt, maybe everything would balance out, and I would finally feel better, but I don’t fucking feel better.”
The silence stretched. Long and heavy. Because they all knew exactly who I was talking about.
Vera Stavros.
There had only ever been Vera. I hadn’t dated anyone since her or before her.
I hadn’t even looked at another woman since her and had definitely not wanted anyone else.
Before her, my life was a jumble of women who wanted me for sex, and I wanted them for the same thing.
Until Vera had entered and changed everything.
But just like that. Everything was gone.
“What did you do, Nico?” Jarek asked, his expression serious now.
“I kidnapped her from her wedding.”
Jarek’s eyes widened, and Fyodor straightened. Kliment went completely still. Interesting. Apparently, that got their attention. I hadn’t told my brother about my abduction plans. No one knew besides Viktor and my immediate team.
“What?” Fyodor asked carefully.
I laughed. “What do you mean, what?”
“Nico.”
“You heard me.”
I leaned back, suddenly exhausted.
“I took her.” The bartender wisely moved farther away. “I walked into the church, walked into her dressing room, and forced her to come with me so she would not get married to that man.”
“You kidnapped a bride,” Kliment sighed, his jaw hardening.
“Yes.”
He rubbed his face slowly as if trying to understand what I had just told all of them. A part of me was failing to understand it myself.
“I don’t know why you’re upset. I was very professional.”
Jarek burst out laughing, and even Fyodor looked horrified.
“You were professional!?”
“I had a plan.”
“You kidnapped a woman.”
“You are acting as if you have never tried doing something like this in the past,” I replied, throwing Kliment’s own life choices in his face. Not long ago, he had tried to kidnap and kill Misha Chernykh for revenge, but had ended up falling in love with her.
“Justifying your actions through my bad choices does not make it better.”
“It does for me.”
I finished another drink, and the room tilted slightly. Good. Maybe eventually it would stop existing altogether.
“How long had you been planning it?” Kliment asked.
I smiled. “Months. Since she ended things with me. I knew everything about her, from where she got her coffee every Tuesday to her gym schedule and the florist she was using for the wedding. I knew every fitting appointment and every rehearsal. I only had to go get her at the right time, and what better time than right before her wedding?”
Silence. Heavy silence. But I couldn’t stop. Because once the truth started coming out, it kept coming.
“I followed her everywhere and watched her plan that wedding. It hurt like hell, but I knew what I was doing, and at the right moment, I made sure the wedding never happened.”
Jarek slowly set down his drink. Nobody had a joke now.
Nobody was smiling. Because they were finally understanding.
This hadn’t started at the church. It had started months ago on the day I learned Vera Stavros was getting married.
The day I learned she was marrying someone else and had moved on already.
“Why?” Fyodor asked quietly.
I looked at him.
Because I loved her. Because I hated her.
Because I couldn’t stop. Because every time I tried, I remembered her walking out of my office.
Because every time I slept, I heard her saying she never loved me.
Because every time I breathed, I remembered losing her.
But I couldn’t say any of that. So I said the simpler truth.
“Because she deserved consequences for what she did to me.”
Nobody looked convinced. Especially not Kliment.
“Who is the fiancé?” he asked.
“Adrian Petrov.”
Recognition flashed immediately. He was a familiar name, but no one significant.
“Petrov?” Jarek said. “The little rat from Fort Lauderdale?”
“The very same.”
Fyodor frowned. “His family barely matters.”
“I know.”
“What about her father?”
I barked out a laugh. “I actually hadn’t known that Vera Stavros was the daughter of Manny Stavros. She hated talking about her father, but when I got information on her, I finally found out.”
That got another reaction.
“The Manny Stavros?” Fyodor repeated.
“The one and only.”
Kliment’s expression darkened. “She never told you herself.”
“No, she didn’t. I found out during surveillance.”
The word sounded absurd now. Surveillance. As if I had been conducting an operation. Not obsessing over a woman.
“Manny’s been doing business around the edges of the Bratva for years, but he is a small man who does nothing but chase money. Small shipments, small favors, and small ambitions.”
Kliment studied me. “Nico.”
“What?”
“Why are you angry at her?”
I looked at him. Then laughed. Because even drunk, I knew what he was doing. He was trying to pull me apart. Trying to force me to look at things I didn’t want to look at.
“I’m angry because she left me and, not two weeks later, announced her marriage to Petrov.”
There. Silence. Complete silence. The kind that follows a gunshot. The kind that follows truth. I stared at the bar, unable to look at them.
“She left.” My throat tightened, and a bitter laugh escaped. “I would’ve done anything for her. I would’ve burned the city down for her; I would’ve married her.”
The admission hurt because it was true. I had never told Vera, but I had bought a ring.
Two months before she left, I had already been planning a proposal.
The ring was still sitting in a safe somewhere.
Untouched and unwanted. And now she had almost walked down an aisle toward someone else. The thought nearly made me sick.
“I genuinely thought I was capable of hating her after all she did to me, but then I saw her on the day of the wedding, and I brought her with me. And I remembered I never stopped loving her.”
Nobody spoke for a long time. Eventually, I felt a hand land on my shoulder. It was Kliment’s.
“Come on.”
I didn’t move. “Leave me here.”
“Not happening.”
“I’m drinking.”
“We noticed.”
“Do you seriously not realize this is not who you are, Nico?” Kliment asked, his tone hardening.
“You are acting as if a girl betraying you is your entire fucking life when you are so much more than that. You are my best goddamn enforcer, and you are excellent at what you do. You are the only one managing both our white and black fronts without the slightest hitch, and you have been doing it for years both in Russia and America. You are smart and capable and everything else, and you are acting as if none of it matters.”
“None of it does,” I reply, Kliment’s words making the hole inside me feel even bigger.
“But it does matter, Nico,” Fyodor chimed in. “It matters because we are not going to sit here and let you lose yourself over this. You need to fix your fucking life and attitude and stop acting like all hope is lost and you are suddenly nothing and nobody.”
I glared at him, but he remained completely unimpressed. It was impossible for me to fight my older brothers. Jarek and Fyodor stood up, their intent clear before me. They were planning to drag me out of here.
“I’m not leaving.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No.”
Kliment grabbed my arm, and I considered resisting. Then realized I was drunk enough to lose, which would be embarrassing. So I allowed them to pull me upright. The room immediately reminded me why standing was overrated.
“Jesus Christ,” Fyodor muttered.
“I’m fine.”
“You are absolutely not fine.”
“I kidnapped a bride very professss…professionally,” I lisped, realizing how drunk I was.
“That is not helping your argument right now, Nico,” Fyodor sighed, helping me stay upright.
Fair.
The drive back was quiet as nobody pushed and nobody questioned. Kliment didn’t even try to lecture me. They simply sat with me, and for the first time in months, I wasn’t alone with it.
The anger.
The grief.
The obsession.
The love.
The hatred.
All of it.
Waiting for me back at the house was Vera behind locked doors.
I had dumped her there and hadn’t looked back in three days.
She had destroyed me, and now she was sleeping under my roof again.
I stared out the window into the Miami night, and for the first time since taking her from that church, I realized something terrifying.
I had planned every step until I got her.
Every detail.
Every contingency.
Every outcome.
But now that Vera was actually mine to keep, I had absolutely no idea what came next.