His Father, My Lover

Chapter 2.

Chapter 2: The Ghost in the Shadows

Nico’s voice cuts through the silence of my penthouse like a blade, and for a moment, I’m not the Black Widow, not the queen of New York’s underworld just Juliette, the girl who loved him once. My gun’s in my hand, steady despite the way my heart’s hammering. He stands on the balcony, framed by the city’s glow, his silhouette leaner than I remember, harder. The scar on his cheek catches the light, a jagged line that wasn’t there two years ago. His green eyes burn with something I can’t name anger, maybe, or something darker.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” I say, my voice steady but laced with venom. I don’t lower the gun. “Or did you just forget to send a postcard?”

He steps closer, hands raised, that old cocky smirk playing on his lips. “Missed me that much, Jules? Enough to point a gun at me?”

“Don’t call me that.” I tighten my grip, the cold metal grounding me. “You don’t get to waltz back in here like nothing happened. Where the hell have you been, Nico?”

He stops just inside the glass doors, his leather jacket creaking. The pendant, half of the locket I gave him years ago swings against his chest. “You want the short version? I got screwed over. Bad. But I’m here now, and I’m taking back what’s mine.”

My laugh is sharp, bitter. “Yours? This empire’s mine. I built it from the ashes you left behind. You don’t get to claim it just because you’re breathing again.”

His smirk fades, and for a second, I see the Nico I knew reckless, charming, the boy who promised me forever. Then his eyes harden. “You think you’re the only one who’s been fighting? I was caged, Juliette. Tortured. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

I step closer, the gun still trained on him. “Then tell me. Right now. What happened? Why’d you leave me two weeks before our wedding?” My voice cracks on the last word, and I hate it. Hate how much it still hurts.

He flinches, just barely, but I catch it. “It wasn’t my choice,” he says, quieter now. “The Petrovs grabbed me. Said I was a loose end. They wanted me out of the way so they could take down my father. I fought like hell to get back to you.”

“Bullshit.” I lower the gun slightly, but my finger stays on the trigger. “If you were fighting for me, why didn’t I hear a word? Two years, Nico. I thought you were dead.”

He takes a step closer, too close, and I can smell the faint leather and smoke on him. “Because they broke me, Jules. They had me in a hole, no light, no way out. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead either. But I heard what you did took my territory, turned it into something bigger. I’m proud of you.”

The words hit like a punch, and I hate how they make my chest ache. “Don’t,” I snap. “Don’t act like you care. You show up now, after I’ve clawed my way to the top, and expect me to just hand it over?”

“I’m not asking you to hand it over,” he says, voice low, urgent. “I’m asking you to fight with me. Together, like we planned. Before him.”

Him. Rafael. The name hangs between us like a guillotine. I think of his offer marriage, power, a leash disguised as a crown. And now Nico’s here, stirring up ghosts I thought I’d buried.

“You know about Rafael,” I say, not a question. My phone’s still in my pocket, the message he sent burning a hole in my mind: You’re sitting on a stolen throne. “What else do you know?”

Nico’s eyes narrow. “Enough. I know you’re in bed with my father figuratively, I hope.” His tone’s light, but there’s an edge to it, a jealousy I don’t miss.

I laugh, cold and sharp. “You’re one to talk about loyalty. Where were you when I was fighting off the Petrovs? When I was dodging bullets to keep your name alive?”

“I told you, I was...

“Save it.” I cut him off, stepping back, needing distance. “You don’t get to play the victim. Not after you left me to clean up your mess.”

He moves faster than I expect, closing the gap, his hand brushing my arm. I jerk back, but his touch lingers, a spark I don’t want to feel. “I didn’t leave you, Juliette,” he says, voice raw. “I was taken. And I fought every damn day to get back to you. You think I wanted this? To come back and find you running my father’s game?”

I shove him, hard, and he stumbles back, surprise flashing across his face. “Your father’s game? You think I’m his pawn? I’m the one holding this city together. Not you. Not him. Me.”

For a moment, we just stare at each other, the air crackling with everything unsaid. Then he softens, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t want to fight you, Jules. I want us to be what we were. Partners. Lovers. We can take down Rafael, the Petrovs, anyone who stands in our way.”

His words tug at something deep, something I’ve locked away. But I’m not that girl anymore. “You don’t know me now,” I say, voice low. “And I don’t trust you.”

He nods, like he expected it. “Fair. But you’ll need me. Rafael’s playing you. He’s always played dirty. Ask yourself why he wants you so bad.”

I don’t answer, because I’m already asking. Rafael’s proposal wasn’t just about power—it was too personal, too intense. And now Nico’s here, stirring up doubts I can’t afford.

“Get out,” I say finally, raising the gun again. “I need to think.”

Nico doesn’t move. “You can’t trust him, Juliette. He’s the reason I was taken. He sold me out to the Petrovs.”

My blood runs cold. “Prove it.”

“I will,” he says, stepping back toward the balcony. “But you need to decide whose side you’re on. Mine, or his.”

He’s gone before I can answer, slipping into the shadows like he was never here. My hands shake as I lower the gun, my mind racing. Rafael’s offer, Nico’s return it’s a chessboard, and I’m not sure who’s playing who.

I don’t sleep. Instead, I pour another whiskey and pace my penthouse, the city’s hum a distant roar. Nico’s words echo: He sold me out. If it’s true, Rafael’s not just a predator he’s a traitor. But Nico’s no saint either. He’s hiding something, and I’m not fool enough to believe his sob story without proof.

By dawn, I’m in my office a converted warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen, all steel and glass, my war room. Tommy’s there, cleaning his gun, his eyes flicking to me as I storm in. “You look like hell, boss,” he says, half-smirking.

“Feel like it too,” I mutter, dropping into my chair. “Nico’s back.”

Tommy’s hands freeze. “No s**t? Where’s he been?”

“Says the Petrovs had him. Says Rafael set him up.” I lean back, rubbing my temples. “I don’t know what to believe.”

Tommy whistles low. “That’s a mess. You buying it?”

“Not yet.” I pull out my laptop, hacking into the encrypted server I’ve been using to track Romanov finances. If Rafael paid the Petrovs, there’ll be a trail. “I need you to tail Nico. Find out where he’s staying, who he’s meeting. He’s not here for a reunion.”

Tommy nods, holstering his gun. “On it. But what about Rafael? You gonna marry the old man?”

I shoot him a glare. “Don’t start.”

He grins, unrepentant. “Just saying, boss. You’re playing with fire. Both of ’em.”

“Get moving,” I snap, but there’s no heat in it. Tommy’s right this is a powder keg, and I’m holding the match.

The day’s a blur of meetings with my lieutenants, shoring up defenses against the Petrovs. They hit one of my warehouses last week, and I’m not letting them get another shot. By evening, I’m back at the penthouse, staring at my phone. Rafael’s texted again: Dinner tomorrow. My place. 8 p.m. We have details to discuss.

I’m about to reply when a knock at the door makes me jump. My gun’s in my hand before I think, and I move to the peephole. It’s Lena, my right hand, her blonde hair pulled back, her face tight with worry.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, letting her in.

She doesn’t sit, just paces, her boots loud on the hardwood. “We got a problem, Juliette. Big one.”

“Spit it out.” My stomach twists. Lena doesn’t spook easy.

“One of our guys saw Nico meeting with someone last night. Not just anyone Viktor Petrov.”

My blood runs cold. Viktor’s the Petrov patriarch, Rafael’s biggest rival. If Nico’s with him, this isn’t just personal it’s war. “You sure it was Nico?”

“Positive,” Lena says, pulling out her phone. She shows me a grainy photo Nico, his scar unmistakable, shaking hands with Viktor in a dimly lit alley. “This was taken near the docks. They weren’t exactly swapping recipes.”

I curse under my breath, my mind spinning. Nico’s working with the Petrovs? After claiming they tortured him? Either he’s lying, or he’s playing a deeper game. “What else do we know?”

“Not much,” Lena admits. “But there’s more. One of my contacts in the feds says they’re sniffing around. Someone’s feeding them intel on the Romanovs.”

My heart stops. “Nico?”

“Maybe,” she says, voice grim. “Or Rafael. Or both. You’re in the middle of this, Juliette. What’s your move?”

I don’t answer right away, because I don’t know. Nico’s back, Rafael’s circling, and now the feds are in play. I’m surrounded, and every choice feels like a trap.

“Get me everything you can on that meeting,” I say finally. “And double security on our operations. If the Petrovs are moving, we hit them first.”

Lena nods, but her eyes linger on me, worried. “You okay, boss? You don’t look so hot.”

I force a smile. “I’m fine. Just need to figure out who’s screwing me over worse.”

She laughs, but it’s tense. “My money’s on both of ’em.”

That night, I’m back on my balcony, the city sprawling below like a chessboard. My gun’s on the table, my whiskey untouched. Nico’s photo with Viktor burns in my mind, and Rafael’s dinner invite feels like a noose tightening. I need answers, and I need them fast.

My phone buzzes, and I grab it, expecting another cryptic message. Instead, it’s a call from a blocked number. I hesitate, then answer. “Who’s this?”

A voice I don’t recognize, low and smooth, comes through. “You’re a hard woman to reach, Black Widow.”

My grip tightens on the phone. “You’ve got ten seconds to tell me who you are.”

“Call me the Broker,” the voice says, and my blood chills. “I hear you’re caught between two Romanovs. Bad spot to be in.”

“What do you want?” I snap, my eyes scanning the balcony, half-expecting someone to step out of the shadows again.

“I want to help you,” the Broker says. “Nico’s playing you. Rafael’s playing you. But I know their secrets. Meet me tomorrow, midnight, at the old warehouse on Pier 17.”

“Why should I trust you?” I ask, my voice sharp.

“You shouldn’t,” he says, almost amused. “But you’re running out of options. Oh, and Juliette? Watch your back. Nico’s closer than you think.”

The line goes dead, and I’m left staring at the city, my heart pounding. I turn, gun in hand, scanning the shadows of my penthouse. Then I hear it a faint creak from the hallway, the sound of someone trying not to be heard.

“Who’s there?” I call, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my chest. “Nico, if that’s you, show yourself.”

A figure steps into the doorway, and my breath catches. It’s not Nico. It’s Rafael, his gray eyes glinting in the dark, a gun in his hand.

“Juliette,” he says, his voice low, dangerous. “We need to talk about my son.”