Keeping my Mafia Bodyguard (Mafia Devils and their Darlings book 2)

The loud crash of something has me jumping out of bed, and rushing to hide inside the wardrobe. I don’t need to see what fell, my heart pounding against the wall of my chest already warns my brain and muscles to run. There aren’t many clothes inside. Most of my things are still in the bag I brought when I came to Russia for this very reason. I crouch low, trying to slow my rapid breathing. The room stays still. No footsteps. No movement. No intruder. I’m in Claire’s house, guarded to the teeth. Before anyone reaches me, they’d have to get through the men outside, all armed and waiting. It must have been a dream. The thought drains the strength from my limbs. Cold sweat clings to my skin, and I feel the urge to cry. When will this end, this sick, endless fear? I feel like throwing up, my chest aches as if my heart’s too tired to keep beating. I left New York to hide behind the mighty power of the Drognov name, yet I still don’t feel safe. What more can I do? Where else can I go? I’ve been living with Claire and her family for nearly five months now, offering them half-truths and silence. Sooner or later, they’ll start asking questions, and then I’ll have to leave, alone. My fists tighten. I draw several shaky breaths, wipe the tears from my cheeks, and step out of the wardrobe. My eyes dart to the windows first. The room is on the upper floor, but someone could have climbed up. The blinds hang still, no draft, so the glass must be shut. The door… I move toward it, tentative, trying the handle even though the chair I wedged beneath it is still in place. It’s locked. I exhale, stagger back, and press my fingers to my eyes. Then my phone buzzes, and my shoulders tense before I force myself to relax. Maybe it’s Freya or Serena checking on me. None of my friends really know what’s happening. They care, yes, but the version of me they think they know isn’t real. I haven’t lied to them, exactly… I just haven’t told them the truth. It isn’t Freya or Serena. My heart jumps at the number flashing on the screen. I changed my number. How did he get this? Ice grow on my spine. My hand trembles as I open the message. You are in Russia. That’s all it says. The phone slips from my fingers, shattering against the floor, though I barely hear it over the roar of blood rushing to my head. My heartbeat slams against my chest hard. The edges of my vision darken. Then I'm crashing backwards into darkness. “Hey, wake up.” Hands grip my face, turning it side to side, patting my cheek until I stir. His face comes into focus, and I flinch, scrambling backward, scanning the room. Still in Claire’s house. The man in front of me isn’t a stranger, it’s Aleksei’s bodyguard. How did he get in? My gaze darts to the open door, and the color drains from my face. “How did you get in?” I whisper, barely breathing. “I heard a loud crash and thought something happened to you. When I couldn’t open the door, I got the master key,” Niko explains, rising calmly to his feet. “What happened? You fainted, but there’s nothing in here.” He sweeps his eyes across the room, then back to me. I’m shaking as I try, and fail, to rise from the floor. “I, uh…” A nervous laugh slips out before I can stop it. “I was probably just hungry. Didn’t eat last night.” Didn’t eat because I was too afraid of running into Aleksei. I stayed locked in my room the entire night after that encounter. “I’m probably low on sugar,” I add lamely. Niko’s cold grey eyes stay fixed on me, blank and assessing, like he still suspects something. “Why did you lock the door and wedge a chair under it?” My throat bobs as I swallow. I should get up, stop looking so pathetic down here. I brace a hand on the wall and push to my feet, but my knees buckle. In an instant, strong arms catch me around the waist and pull me upright. “You’re this weak from skipping one meal?” His gaze sweeps over me like I'm stick and bones. My eyes flick up to his face, to that hard jaw, the clean angles of his shoulders. I swallow again. No wonder he stares. All the guards here are fit, but Niko looks like a weapon carved from flesh, controlled, lethal, and maddeningly attractive. There’s also Aleksei, but he doesn’t count. A man like Niko could take down ten others and still walk away. He would survive anything. He lets go of me slowly, and I pretend to steady myself, hoping to dodge his earlier question by looking small and fragile. “I can have the maids bring you something to eat,” he says finally, and my eyes widen. I almost refuse, but stop myself. This is the most we’ve spoken since I arrived. I’ve been wanting to see him, to talk to him, but like Aleksei, he’s always gone. The two of them vanish together, as if tethered by some secret duty. “Yeah… thanks,” I murmur, lowering my gaze. My hair slips forward, curtaining my face.