16. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Isabella
N ikolai takes me to a sleek black door at the top of a swanky apartment building.
Nikolai turns to me, placing his huge hands on my shoulders. “Wait here.”
Before I can protest, he’s disappeared inside. The muffled sound of him cursing in Russian and things clattering around fills the silence. After a few moments, he returns; filling up the open doorway.
He narrows his eyes. “Don’t touch anything without asking.”
I narrow mine back. “I don’t want to touch anything. The smell might catch.”
Nikolai leads me into his penthouse apartment. Vast windows take up the opposite wall, letting the late afternoon light pour into the spacious living area. Nikolai has hardly used the space. It’s like a monk won a luxury apartment on a game show. Well, aside from the huge wall of weapons at the back of the room; I can't imagine any monks with a wall of mounted guns and knives.
Nikolai tosses a bag over to me, which lands with a thud at my feet.
“Fresh clothes.” He drawls, keeping his eyes trained on mine as he speaks. “I need you to take a shower. Now.”
“Excuse me?” I say, preparing for a fight.
“It’s the second door on the left.” He nods at it. “We’re not staying here. It’s not safe.”
“If a luxury apartment isn’t safe, where is?”
He cocks his head. “I can’t tell if you’re serious.”
“My dad wasn’t exactly keen on involving his daughters in the mafia business.”
Nikolai seems to accept my answer, nodding and sucking in a deep breath.
“Luxury apartments won’t stop Callum O’Shea.” We fall into a momentary silence until his brows furrow. “Shower. Now.” His voice snaps like a whip, but I don’t move.
“Why? I’m not your servant. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.”
Nikolai closes the distance between us. He never rushes, but he always moves with purpose. He takes my chin in his hand, but I swat it away immediately. He snatches my wrist, locking it inside his fist.
“You’re not my servant, but right now, you’re not safe. You’re in the eye of an oncoming storm and I’m your only ticket out. I need you cleaned up for where I’m taking you. So, until the day I know you’re not in danger, you will do as you’re told.”
I pull my hand back, ready to hiss a response, but he isn’t exactly wrong. I pick up the bag with as much attitude as I can and push past him.
“I’m locking the door, so don’t try it. There won’t be any more shows for you.” I say over my shoulder as I walk away.
He growls something in Russian I don’t wait to listen for.
I step out of the shower and slip into the clothes from the bag Nikolai gave me. It’s a classy red dress that looks like something I might sing in at The Blue Moon on one of my secret outings with Bianca.
“How did you know my size?” I ask as I walk back into the open space of the apartment, not sure if I’m impressed or annoyed.
Nikolai stands brooding, staring down at the city, two suitcases at his feet. He glances over at me with a frustrated expression. But that frustration disappears when he lays his eyes on me. I pause mid-step, suddenly feeling awkward and all too aware of my wet hair, flushed skin, and the red dress highlighting my curves. We hang in the silence, as if we’ve both forgotten how to speak English.
How many times has he looked at me like this without me even knowing he existed?
I lick my lips, and he takes in a sharp breath before darting his eyes away, back to the windows.
“I have a good eye.” He whispers.
When he glances back, the normal brooding darkness has returned to his face. He snaps back to life and picks up both suitcases like they weigh nothing.
“Come with me. We’re leaving.”
“What? I need to dry my hair.”
“It’ll dry on the way.”
Oh, hell no.
All my protests fall on deaf ears. Nikolai seems to think danger is lurking around every corner and so we have to move ASAP. I drag my feet, but he won’t take no for an answer.
He rushes out to his car, slipping inside like we’re running from a drug bust. He throws two large bags into the back of the car and starts the car like he’s a racer revving before the start of a race.
Even as he drives, his eyes dart around to assess the surroundings. I shake my head and lean back into the seat.
“We’re going to be fine. How would anyone get to us now? We’re in your car, going to… Where are we going?” It dawns on me just how much I’m trusting a guy who could have been classed as a sworn family enemy three weeks ago.
Nikolai flashes me a furious look. “Don’t be so confident.”
“I’m not. I’m just saying we’re fine. You didn’t answer my question.” I sit up in the seat and try to catch his eye.
“We’re going to the safest place I know.”
“Where?”
“Sidorov Mansion.”
I’ve never been to Sidorov Mansion. I’ve only heard stories from my dad and his men growing up. My brother went with my dad when he was young and I always felt that was the day I lost him. When Fredo came back, he was a mini-version of my father, parroting all the things he thought dad wanted him to hear. I think he’d felt accepted. He’d felt like a man because they’d taken him to meet the Russians while his sisters were locked away at home.
It’s just outside of the city, at the end of a long, winding pathway. Intimidating, black iron gates stand out from the sea of green, imposing itself onto the natural landscape.
Nikolai drives us through the gates, the sound of his car wheels crunching against gravel accompanying us as we approach the huge mansion. Statues and fountains line the gravel path, and as I peek out the window, I steal glimpses of sprawling gardens that run on forever.
The wind rustles the trees, as if it’s nudging them to share secrets that have been kept from me since I was a little girl. We stop at the front of the house, but I don’t stop scanning the gardens. There’s too much beauty for me to tear my eyes away.
Then a man’s eyes catch mine. Tall, with a shaved head and wire spectacles. He has a grizzly beard with a line of bald skin from a scar across his cheek and onto his jaw. His movements are graceful to the point of evoking an uncanny feeling in my stomach. I can’t hold his eye for more than a moment.
Nikolai’s hand lands on mine, and the thudding of my heart suddenly calms. I look over, his eyes catching mine.
“It’s okay.” His voice is calm, like a single boat floating through the middle of a lake. “Whatever happens, I brought you here, and that means you’re not alone.”
His words hit me harder than I expect, but I don’t have time to process because Nikolai is already getting out of the car.
As we ascend the stone steps to the black double doors of Sidorov Mansion, I feel the lean man from the garden’s eyes on me. I hurry my steps, so my body is as close to Nikolai’s as it can be without me tripping him over.
“The guy with the scar is creeping me out.” I whisper to Nikolai.
“He does that.” Nikolai mutters without even glancing to see who I’m talking about. “Greyson doesn’t trust new people.”
Nikolai places his hand on the small of my back and guides me through the double doors. His touch makes me feel safe, despite being in the lion's den. We enter a grand hall, with a grand staircase leading up to a second floor in front of us. Cruel eyes peer out from a painting hanging at the top of the stairs.
Ivan Sidorov. The previous Pakhan. He died years ago. My dad kept the details from me, but I know it wasn’t natural causes. His death caused ripple effects through the entire mafia world. He was at my house a lot when I was a child. He’d even been at one of my birthday parties. Ivan and my father had been close. How close? I don’t know. But I know the moment Ivan Sidorov died, the Cosa Nostra and the Bratva stopped doing business on friendly terms and the rumblings of war began.
The sound of shouting and a dog barking grabs me from my thoughts. “If you’re wrong, Alek… If you dared to bring this to me without being absolutely fucking sure.”
“I wouldn’t mention it if it weren’t important. Wait, for fuck’s sake.”
Two men and a white alsatian appear through a door to our left. I recognise them as Viktor Sidorov and Aleksander Vassiliev. Aleksander is the head of the Bratva, and Viktor was sitting with Nikolai at The Tsarina when everything blew up.
They both stop in their tracks when they see me, a wave of expressions crashing over their faces. They look at me and then at Nikolai, and then back at me, as if they need to pinch themselves out of a dream.
“You told them you were bringing me here, right?” I whisper up to Nikolai.
He flashes me a smirk. Of all the times to smile, he chooses now.
“Nikolai, are you insane?” Aleksander blurts out.
The alsatian bounds over to Nikolai, its tail wagging like a helicopter motor. “Anton.” Nikolai calls to the dog, who bounces up to him excitedly.
I flash Nikolai a look.
“What?” He asks.
“You gave him a human name.” I laugh, nodding to Anton. I always find it weird when dogs have people-names.
Nikolai shrugs, his intelligent green eyes remaining still. “He likes it.” Nikolai mutters something in Russian, and Anton sits obediently.
Viktor looks stunned for a moment longer, then he bursts out into bellowing laughter before punching Nikolai on the arm affectionately. “ Durak .”
Nikolai glances down at me. “It means, idiot.” He chuckles.
“This isn’t a fucking joke.” Growls Aleksander, whose body coils with more tension by the second. Nikolai’s hold on the small of my back tightens, pulling me in closer to him. “She can’t stay here.”
“She’s got nowhere else to go.” Nikolai snarls, squaring up to Aleksander.
Fire flashes in Aleksander’s eyes. “You’re forgetting your place.” He doesn’t back down, neither of them will. “We are not bound to pay for your mistakes.”
“What, so you want to leave her to the wolves?” Nikolai rarely raises his voice, but it’s getting louder. The room shrinks, as if the atmosphere can sense the anxiety in my stomach. How many more times will I have to hear I’m not welcome somewhere?
“I wouldn’t want to stay somewhere I’m not wanted.” I snap, unable to hold on to the feelings bubbling in my stomach.
“Good. I’m not going to war for a stuck up Italian princess.” Aleksander folds his arms and looks down at me like I’m a spec of dirt on his shoe.
Before I can slap him (and I might have) Nikolai takes up the space between us, his enormous back obscuring Aleksander from view. “She needs our help.”
“Do I look like a fucking charity to you?”
An icy air shivers through the room, and another voice joins the argument. “Master Aleksander is right, Nikolai. She can’t stay here. It puts us all in danger.”
I turn to see the tall pale man with the glasses from the garden standing behind me. I didn’t hear a single movement, yet he’s close enough to reach out and snatch a strand of my hair. Sunken eyes peer out from high cheekbones, pinning me and making my skin crawl.
“You’re meant to be my brothers.” Growls Nikolai. “Or have you forgotten what that means, again ?”
They all stiffen when Nikolai says again , even the butler straight out of a gothic novel.
“I say she stays.” We all look over at Viktor simultaneously. He shrugs when all the eyes land on him. “Why not piss off old Leonardo? Nothing will stop him from attacking now. It’s only a matter of time.” He catches my eye, and I notice a cut on his lips as a smile pulls at them. “Besides, she’s a fucking talented singer. It’s worth the risk just to have her do another show at The Tsarina.”
“It won’t be free.” I say back, and the smile broadens across his face.
“See? She’ll fit in perfectly.”
A silence falls onto us as Aleksander folds his arms and drums his fingers on his biceps. I don’t want to stay somewhere I’m not wanted, but something stops me from pulling away. Maybe it’s curiosity, because I know staying here will reveal so many of the secrets my dad kept hidden from me growing up. Maybe it’s the huge scarred man in front of me, fighting for me to stay.
Nikolai confuses me. One moment he’s gruff and quiet, the next I see flashes in his eyes as if he’s known me forever. There’s more to why he’s trying to protect me. There has to be more.
“That’s two for, two against.” says Viktor.
“This isn’t a democracy.” Snaps Aleksander.
“True.” Nikolai adds. “But if you turn her away, I go with her.”
Aleksander narrows his eyes in disbelief before he shakes his head. “Leave then.” He waves his hand in the air, exhausted by the situation. He looks like he hasn’t slept for a few days.
“Fine.” Snaps Nikolai, taking my hand in his and pulling harder than he ever has before. My arm almost rips out of its socket; how strong was he?
“Sir, if I might.” Greyson stops us all, his voice the only one remaining calm.
“What is it, Greyson?”
“Perhaps ask her ? After all, she’s never given us poor advice before. We ought to get as many voices as possible if we’re to make a decision that would see Nikolai leave.”
Aleksander cocks his head at Greyson, and I feel a positive shift from Nikolai and Viktor. Aleksander thinks for a long moment.
“Fine. Call her up. But I won’t hear her complaints about being disturbed.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Greyson disappears as quickly and silently as he appeared, his long, lean frame moving with a surprising level of grace as he goes.
The four of us slip into a tense silence as we wait for Greyson to return with her. Nikolai’s body subtly shifts closer to mine, as if I might disappear if he can’t physically touch me.
The silence ends with the sound of someone ranting in French. Greyson appears first, a sheepish look on the terrifying man’s face. Who could possibly scare him?
Behind him walks a five-foot woman with short black hair and a soft, round face. Her harsh expressions contrast her delicate features and the gravel in her voice. I can’t tell how old she is, but I know from the moment I lay eyes on her, she doesn’t take shit from anyone.
“What is it?” A heavy French accent drapes her words. “You know I’m busy. I’m always busy. You all eat like horses. How am I supposed to run this house if I’m constantly stop start stop start?”
Viktor suppresses a laugh as Alek takes a deep breath.
“We need you to settle something, Adrienne.”
Adrienne throws her hands in the air like he’s just asked for her first child. “What is it? Quickly.” She taps her foot and folds her arms. Then she notices me, and her gaze picks my heart up into a thundering race. “Who is she? Why don’t you tell me when there are guests?” She says something in French at Aleksander and then hurries over to me. “I’m so sorry about these morons.” She spits morons over her shoulder, and Viktor lets out a laugh.
“Viktor and I think Isabella should stay.” says Nikolai to Adrienne. “Alek and Greyson think we should kick her out.”
Adrienne shoots Aleksander and Greyson a demonic look. “Why?” She demands, standing in front of me like a guard dog.
“She’s Don Leonardo’s daughter.” says Greyson calmly.
Adrienne bristles for a moment and then decides. “Getting away from that man is the best thing for her. She stays.” Without another word, Adrienne snatches my wrist and drags me to the stairs. She stops at the foot of the stairs. “Who is showing her around?”
Nikolai steps over to me as I perch on the first step of the stairs, causing us to be at eye level. Aleksander tenses his jaw as Nikolai takes my hand and looks into my eyes.
“I’ll show you around.”
“ La perfection. ”