Chapter 43
ACHILLES
“It’s going to be fine.”
Yelena giggles as she takes my hand, standing with me at the front door to her parents' Manhattan mansion.
“Funny, I remember saying something like that to you,” I grunt, eying her as I hear footsteps approach from inside.
She grins at me. “Which is why I’m saying it now.”
I roll my eyes. “Ya-ya is a far cry from your father.”
“No argument here.” She sighs dramatically and winks. “He might kill you.”
I know she’s joking, but I still tense as the front door clicks unlocked.
All jokes aside, Nero might.
Kill me, that is.
I mean, I’m at his house, with his daughter, whom I’m sleeping with, and I’ve been dumb enough to let him know ahead of time that I’m coming.
There is a non-zero chance that this door will open, and a gun, blade, or fucking bazooka shoved in my face will be the last thing I ever see.
But if I can make it past that part, I do have an ace up my sleeve…or rather, in my left pocket.
“Love you,” Yelena whispers, squeezing my hand as the door swings open.
Something does launch immediately into my face, but it’s not a weapon.
It’s a mini-Nero.
“So!” Yelena’s brother drawls with way too much swagger. “You the guy plowing my sister?”
“Jesus, Massimo!” Yelena yells, shoving her brother in the chest.
He immediately cracks up. “It’s them!” he roars into the rest of the house before grinning at me. “So, listen, dude, since you are boning my sister—”
“Could you please not,” Yelena groans. “Gross!”
“You’re telling me.” Massimo makes a face before turning his attention back to me. “Anyway, I need two favors. I think you owe me.”
My brow cocks. “Highly debatable but go ahead.”
“One, I’ll be at Knightsblood next year. And I feel you’re in a great position to, you know…” He inclines his head eloquently.
I frown. “To what?”
“Get me into Para Bellum, dude!”
I smile wryly.
“It’s not quite that simple,” I say. “But I can lean on the scales a bit. Maybe.”
“My guy,” he grins.
“And the second?”
Massimo winks. “You know Yelena's hot friend Wren?”
Oh boy.
“We’ve…met.”
I’m pretty sure Wren and the rest of Yelena’s friends still want to stab me in the dick with a fork.
Yelena and I might be good. But we haven’t cleared everything up yet, mainly because she hasn’t let me.
It’s been five days since I cut Kyle’s throat open and watched Yelena torch his boat. She’s been in my bed every night since. But any time I try to bring up what I need to, she shuts the conversation down.
I know what she’s doing. She's taking what she thinks is “better than nothing”.
But she can do so much better than “better than nothing”. And I’m going to show her that, right after I, fingers crossed, survive dinner with her father.
Maybe then her friends will stop plotting the demise of my dick via cutlery.
“Well, hello!”
A face that’s obviously familiar, since I’ve been in Times Square and I have eyes, smiles warmly as Yelena’s mother rounds the corner to the entryway.
According to an interview in Vogue that I read as part of “Operation: Stalk Yelena”, Milena Kalishnik kept her maiden name rather than taking “De Luca” for professional reasons.
She gently told the interviewer that she wasn’t trying to distance herself from her infamous husband or what he “allegedly” did for a living.
It was just that by the time they got married, her ballet career was soaring.
You do have to admit that for whatever reason Russian last names just look way better for professional ballerinas, same as a Brazilian or Spanish last name feels more legit for a professional soccer player, or a French surname suits a chef.
Milena beams radiantly as she floats over and wraps her daughter in a tight, loving squeeze.
“I’ve missed you!” She pulls back and turns that same smile on me. “You must be Achilles,” she grins. “I knew you’d be handsome.”
Yelena sighs. “Because you stalked his socials?”
“Uh-huh!” Milena laughs brightly as she steps into my personal space and hugs me.
“If you came here tonight simply worried about my husband,” she whispers so low in my ear so that only I can hear, in a vastly different tone than the one she just used, “know that when it comes to Yelena, Nero’s the EASY one… ”
She pulls away from the hug, the sunshine and rainbows smile back on her face, but her eyes locked on mine with a lethal intensity.
“‘Mkay?” she says brightly with a wink.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kalishnik,” I say with my most winning smile.
“He’s a real charmer, this one!” Milena laughs. “Come on,” she says, grabbing Yelena’s hand. “Your father is”—
“Right here.”
“Dad!”
Yelena bolts across the room and leaps into her father’s arms. Nero grins widely, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground. “Hey, little wolf,” he rumbles, squeezing her tightly.
His green eyes suddenly flick past her shoulder and laser right into me, and I’m instantly reminded of exactly his reputation.
Yes, game recognizes game. But while I might be pretty twisted and dark, I’m not cocky enough to think I’m anything close to Nero.
“So,” he growls, putting his daughter down and stalking toward me. “You’re him, hmm?”
“Dad—”
“Just saying hello to our guest, sweetheart.” He smiles at Yelena, then returns his gaze to me, looking like he’s trying to decide which artery would weaken me the fastest but kill me the slowest if he were to slice it open.
We’re the same height, so when he stops right in front of me, easily three inches closer than any normal person would do, we’re eye-to-eye.
Masked darkness to not-very-masked psychopath.
He deftly clears his throat, still staring right into my eyes from a freakishly close distance. “Princess,” he says to his wife, not looking away from me, “why don’t you and the kids go check on dinner? Achilles and I will be right in.”
“Jesus,” Yelena groans, “Dad—”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Milena gushes, taking her daughter’s arm and shooting Massimo a look. “You seriously have to come try the salmon marinade. Your aunt Gabby introduced me to it and it’s insane.”
Yelena shoots me an “I’m so sorry” look as her mother and brother sweep her from the room, and I wink at her over her father’s shoulder as she disappears.
The second she does, cold, very pointy metal presses against me.
…Specifically, my balls.
“Your daddy isn’t waiting right outside the door this time, kid,” Nero murmurs darkly. “Now, tell me, do you know why a man’s balls tighten?”he growls, keeping his knife right at my crotch.
Okay, this just got…weird.
“I think I have an idea,” I murmur back.
He flashes a shark-like grin. “It can happen for one of two different reasons. The first you may know, though that knowledge better have fuck-all to do with my daughter, is when a man is about to come.”
Yeah, I'm not touching that.
“The second, Mr. Drakos,” Nero continues, “is when he lies. So, I’m going to ask you a couple of questions. And assuming this isn't your kink, and you're not about to jizz on me…”
I wince when he adds a little more pressure to my nuts.
“If these jewels of yours start to tighten when you answer those questions…” He shrugs. “Well, that’s what the knife is for.”
“Fair,” I mutter.
“I’m so glad we agree,” he smiles darkly. “Do you drink?”
“Sometimes, socially, if it’s worth drinking.”
He cocks a brow. “Huh. Good answer.”
My teeth clench as he pushes the tip against me just a little more.
“Are you a mean drunk, Achilles?”
“No. I rarely drink enough to be more than buzzed.”
Which is true.
What can I say? I like control.
Duh.
“Do you cheat?”
“I’d—”
I bite back a groan of pain when he pushes the knife against me with enough pressure that I’m concerned it’s piercing my pants.
“That should be a real simple yes or no answer, friend,” Nero growls tightly.
“I was going to say,” I grunt, “that I’d cut off my own balls before ever cheating on your daughter. And when it comes to anything else,” I shrug. “The only unfair fight is the one you don’t win.”
Okay, I got that line from him, from an interview he did a while back for Cigar Aficionado’s “Kings of New York” issue—also as part of “Operation: Stalk Yelena”.
Nero grins. “You stole that.”
“It was a good line.”
His grin widens. “Not fucking bad at all, kid.” His smile drops again. “Do you have enemies?”
“Several.”
He smirks. “Do they know they're your enemies?”
“Not all of them. Yet.”
He nods, then draws in a slow breath. “My daughter is not an asset, or a pawn, or a strategic bridge connecting our families. If I find out she’s being treated as any of those, I will burn down everything you have and everything you are, and I will warm my fucking ass on the flames. Got it?”
I nod. “Abundantly, Mr. De Luca.”
“If she cries once because of you, I’ll fuckin’ know about it,” he growls.
“Understood.”
“If she cries twice—“
“She won't.”
His green eyes pierce mine, like he’s peering into my very soul. “Well, here we are, Drakos,” he growls. “Near the end, and balls still attached.” He blinks once. “Last question. Would you kill for my daughter?”
“Permission to reach into my left pocket?”
“Do it slooow-lyyy,” he murmurs, twisting the knife against my crotch.
I slip my hand into my pocket and pull out the velvet ring box.
…and immediately wince when he lifts the blade right against me.
“My friend,” he growls. “You have radically misjudged the situation if you think I’m going to be remotely okay with you wanting to marry my nineteen-year-old daughter three fucking months into dating her—”
“It’s not for her.” I lift it to him. “It’s for you.”
Nero looks amused. “I've heard of sucking up to your girlfriend’s father, kid,” he chuckles, eyeing the ring box, “but this seems a bit above and beyond—”
“I think you should open it, sir.”
His brows knit.
“You just asked me if I’d ever kill for your daughter.”
He takes the box with his free hand and thumbs the lid open.
His brows arch, and a satisfied grin spreads over his face.
“I hope that answers your question.”
Nero starts to chuckle. “And here I thought you were blowing smoke up my ass when you asked if I wanted a trophy.”
His gaze drops back to Kyle Santoro’s finger lying in the box, still wearing the Santoro family crest ring, which I severed when I slipped back onto the boat right before we torched it.
The knife leaves my balls.
“Mr. Drakos,” Nero growls, sheathing his knife and then holding out his hand. “Welcome to my home. For bonus points, you get to keep your balls.”
I grin. “I thought your wife was going to be the tough one.”
Nero chuckles as he pats my shoulder. “Believe me, kid. You just got the easy route in. Come on, let’s eat.”