The Don's Innocent Collateral

Chapter 6

"If I'm bait," Amelia said, her voice shaking but refusing to break, "then what happens to me if something happens to you?"

The second the words left her mouth, she wanted them back. Her stomach dropped. She had just asked the most powerful and dangerous man she had ever met—a man who apparently had people killed without losing a second of sleep over it—about his own death. To his face. In his house. While they were completely alone.

She braced herself, trying to make sense of the last month while the storm outside hurled itself against the glass. None of it made sense. A man bleeding in a dark alley. A massive debt that wasn't hers. An iron-clad contract she had signed in a diner because saying no had never really been an option. And now this. A modern fortress on a cliff, and a Bratva Don telling her she was bait as if that were a normal thing to hear and then move on from.

For the first time since she had walked into the room, Nicolai actually looked surprised.

The expression lasted less than a second before disappearing completely. His face went blank again, his pitch-black eyes settling on her with that same unreadable weight that somehow made the massive room feel instantly smaller.

"And what," Nicolai said, a faint hint of dark amusement touching his voice, "do you imagine would be the reason for my death, if you don't mind my asking."

Amelia felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. At least he wasn't having her thrown out a window.

"I don't," she said carefully.

Something flickered across his expression. It was gone before she could identify it.

"You don't need to be scared for me," he said. It wasn't reassurance. It sounded more like a cold, undisputed fact. He moved toward the center of the room and stopped. "Now. Since you're living under my roof—"

"Like I had a choice," she muttered.

His eyes shifted to her immediately. Cold. Direct.

Amelia straightened her spine.

"Since you're living under my roof," he repeated, choosing not to acknowledge the comment, "you will go by my rules." He clasped his hands behind his back. "First. You stay in your room unless I summon you. You don't walk these halls whenever you feel like it. You don't explore."

Amelia nodded, listening carefully and memorizing everything.

"If you need anything—food, supplies—there's a landline in your room. The kitchen number is written beside it. The chefs are available at any hour. Use it." Nicolai paused, his jaw tightening slightly. "My number is there as well. For medical emergencies only."

Something told her he had added that last part specifically because he'd already imagined her finding excuses to call.

"You don't speak to my men," he continued. "Not about what you hear in this house. Not about me. Not about anything. You see them, you walk past them, that's all." His heavy gaze held hers. "And lastly—"

The door opened. It wasn't knocked on. It wasn't eased open. It just opened.

The man who walked in was enormous. That was Amelia's first immediate thought. He wasn't just tall or broad; he was the kind of enormous that made her briefly wonder whether the heavy steel doorframe had actually been wide enough to accommodate him.

She looked him over automatically, the way she would assess a trauma patient coming through the emergency room doors. Huge shoulders. Heavy hands. Old scars. It was the sort of build that suggested violence had been a regular part of his life for a very long time. Then she reached his face.

He was grinning. Not politely. Not cautiously. He was grinning like someone who had just been handed the best news of his week.

It was so unexpected that Amelia just stared. Then she noticed the blood. It was dried, brown around the edges, staining the collar of his shirt and disappearing beneath the second button. It wasn't fresh. It was hours old. And he was casually carrying two expensive bottles of liquor like he'd just stopped at a corner store on the way home.

Amelia had one very immediate thought: *Did he kill someone tonight?* A second later, another followed: *What kind of people are these?*

The man looked at Nicolai first. Something passed between them. Quick. Silent. Familiar. Then his attention shifted to her. Unlike Nicolai's stare, there was no cold assessment in his eyes. Just curiosity. Easy and open.

His gaze dropped to Amelia’s clenched fist, noticing the silver metal of the broken chain peeking out from between her fingers where Nicolai had dropped it. His grin widened.

"Oh hello, sweetheart."

The words were simple. Normal, even. And somehow, after everything she'd seen since arriving here, they caught her entirely off guard. Amelia felt something loosen inside her, just a little. It was like a window opening in a room that had been sealed shut. She smiled before she could stop herself. A small one, but real.

His eyebrows shot up. He looked delighted.

"So she's the one," he said, turning toward Nicolai. "The owner of the necklace you wanted fixed so badly." He clicked his tongue. "Nico."

Nicolai's expression didn't change, but the look he sent across the room could have frozen fire.

The man accepted the lethal glare without an ounce of concern and turned back to Amelia. He dropped into the chair opposite the desk, set both bottles down with a heavy thunk, and looked between them with obvious interest.

"So," he said, "are either of you going to tell me what's going on, or am I filling in the blanks myself? Fair warning, sweetheart. When I fill in blanks myself, it gets creative."

Amelia opened her mouth to speak, but Nicolai cut her off.

"Her name is Amelia," Nicolai said. His voice had gone low again. Controlled. Dangerously calm. "She is the new live-in nurse. And you are going to behave yourself."

The man froze, his hand hovering over one of the bottles. He looked at the silver trauma kit open on the table. He looked at the fresh white bandages wrapped around Nicolai's torso. Then, he looked at Amelia's exhausted, pale face.

The realization hit him like a physical blow.

"A nurse," he whispered, his eyes going wide. A loud, booming laugh suddenly escaped his chest. "Well, I'll be damned. The alley. You're the one who stitched him back together on the pavement."

He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest, looking at Nicolai. "I always behave myself."

"Lev," Nicolai warned.

"I'm sitting down, aren't I?" Lev countered. He reconsidered the bottle, then pointed a thick finger at Amelia. "Has he told you the rules yet?"

"He was getting to the last one," Amelia said.

Lev looked at Nicolai. "What's the last one?"

Nicolai didn't look at Lev. He looked directly at Amelia. "Don't trust anyone in this house who isn't me."

The silence that followed was brief. Then Lev leaned forward, resting his heavy elbows on his knees. His expression became completely, shockingly serious.

"He means everyone except me."

Amelia looked at him. Then she looked at Nicolai. The expression on Nicolai's face suggested this was an argument they'd probably had dozens of times before, and one the Don had never once managed to win. For the first time since arriving at the fortress, the lethal mafia boss looked almost normal. Almost human.

The heavy, suffocating weight in Amelia's chest eased slightly. She looked back at Lev.

"Good to know," she said.

Lev smiled like she'd just passed a test she hadn't known she was taking.

Amelia wasn't entirely sure why, but she found herself smiling back.

Across the room, Nicolai looked mildly annoyed by the entire exchange.

For some reason, that made her feel better.

A lot better.