The Heiress and the Hitman

Chapter Thirteen: FRACTURED DAWN

Warmth presses against my back in the grey half-light before dawn. Nicolai’s body has curled around mine sometime in the night, one heavy arm draped across my ribs, his thigh slotted between mine. His breath fans slow and steady against my shoulder.

In the soft dream like haze. I feel his hard length nudging insistently against the curve of my backside and my body responds before my mind can catch up. A low hum slips from my throat. I arch just enough to press back against him.

His grip tightens fractionally and a sleepy rumble vibrates through his chest.

I turn in his arms, still half-dreaming, and find his mouth with mine.

The kiss starts lazy, lips brushing softly. Then his hand slides up my spine, fingers threading into my hair, and he angles my head exactly how he wants it. The kiss turns hungry. A soft growl sounds in the back of his throat when I bite his lower lip.

My nightgown rides higher and his palm grips the bare skin of my hip, then slips beneath silk to cup my breasts. He rolls us so I’m beneath him, thighs parting around his hips. His weight on me is solid, grounding and terrifying in how much I want it.

His erection presses hot and insistent against my core through the thin barrier of his pants and I rock up into him without thinking, seeking friction.

“f**k,” he breathes against my throat and then his mouth travels lower, sucking a bruise over the fading mark he left last night. One hand hooks under my knee and drags my leg higher around his waist. The angle lets him grind harder and deeper. The silk of my nightgown bunches uselessly at my waist.

I’m wet, aching and embarrassingly ready. My nails dig into his shoulders. “Nicolai—”

Suddenly his rhythm falters and his entire body goes rigid.

I blink up at him, dazed.

His expression has changed.

Gone is the sleepy tenderness and the raw want from mere seconds ago. In its place is something cold. Something lethal...

Before I can process it, his hand snaps around my throat—not gentle or reverent like earlier. It's crushing. He yanks me off the bed and slams me back against the wall beside it. The impact jars the breath from my lungs.

His other hand is suddenly holding a gun. He presses the cold muzzle to my temple and my arousal curdles into ice.

He leans in close, his voice low and glacial. “You were so easy to fool.." His lips curl into a twisted smile. "It was so easy to convince you that I'd lost my memory... but I remember Princess. Every detail... It was so fun to watch you squirm and cook up lies. You even offered up that delicious tempting body of yours.”

My blood runs cold.

“So of course I played along,” he continues. “Had fun with your pretty little body... But the fun’s over. Time to finish what I came here to do...”

“No—” I choke out, the words muffled by his grip. I thrash, nails clawing at his wrist, legs kicking uselessly. “Please—Nicolai—”

He forces me back to the mattress, pinning me beneath his weight. The gun digs harder against my skull. His finger tightens on the trigger.

I scream.

Suddenly his face flickers.The hard lines morph into familiar features streaked with dark blood. My father’s voice comes out of the ruined face, flat and wrong and dead. “Shhh, babygirl. It’s time to come home.”

The gunshot cracks—

And I bolt awake with a raw scream tearing from my throat.

Strong hands grab my shoulders and I flail against them, my nails raking blindly.

“Aria—Aria! stop, it’s me.”

Nicolai’s voice. It's real this time nothing like the thing from my dream.

I freeze. My chest heaves in relief. It was only a nightmare.

He’s kneeling on the bed in front of me, concern carved deep into his features. His forearm is bleeding in thin parallel lines where I had scratched him while struggling. He doesn’t even seem to notice.

“You were thrashing,” he says quietly. “and screaming in your sleep. I’ve been trying to wake you for almost a minute. Are you okay?”

My eyes are still fixed on the marks on his arm.

“I—I hurt you,” I whisper.

He doesn't even glance at it. "Answer me! Does that happen often? Do you have any idea of what it felt like to just watch you helplessly? You weren't waking up....”

I swallow hard. “It was just another Nightmare. About… about my father. The night he was killed.” My voice cracks. “I still see it. Over and over. Every Night. That's why I needed the alcohol.”

He pulls me against his chest without hesitation. His hand cups the back of my head the slides down to rub slow circles between my shoulder blades. “You’re safe now,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve got you.”

His gentleness is so stark against the violence of the dream that it hurts. In the dream he was ice and death. Here he’s warmth and careful hands...

But the dream felt like prophecy.

If he remembers—if he ever regains his memory—he becomes that man again. He'd carry out his mission.

I can’t let that happen.

The decision settles slow and heavy in my mind.

I have to turn him in. Now.

Before my nightmare becomes real.

The sky outside has gone from black to bruised purple. Early morning.

Nicolai insists on making me coffee so we go downstairs and he moves around my kitchen like he belongs there—shirtless, pants low on his hips, his dark hair still mussed.

I watch him from the island stool, a few inches from where he had 'punished' me a few hours ago.

My fingers are clenched around my phone, guilt and fear twisting together until I feel sick.

He sets a steaming mug in front of me. “Drink... this should help relax you..”

I nod and take a careful sip. My mind reels with the weight of my decision. Why did turning him in seem so hard now?

When he turns to pour his own, I mutter an excuse about needing to make a call and slip off the stool. Heart in my throat, I pad toward the elevator... The doors slide open silently and I step inside.

I press the button for the lobby. The ride down feels eternal.

When the doors open, two of my regular security men are standing near the desk. I force my legs to move. I can do this! I can end my nightmare for good.

“Miss Hudson"!one of them says, straightening. “Everything okay?”

I open my mouth.

Then I see it.

Across the lobby, near the service entrance, one of the guards is chatting with a pizza delivery guy. It's casual until he turns to leave and his sleeve rides up.

There's a glimpse of ink on his wrist.

The tattoo.

The same one Nicolai has. My blood turns to ice.

The delivery guy nods politely to the guard, pulls his sleeve down, and disappears through the side door.

I stare after him.

How many people were out to kill me exactly?

How deep does this go?

The guards turn back to me. “Ma’am? You alright?”

I force a smile. “Nothing. Just… needed air.”

I turn and hurry back into the elevator.

The doors close.

I lean against the wall, breathing hard.

I can’t trust the guards.

I can’t trust anyone.

Except—for now—the man upstairs who promised no one would hurt me again.

He may be a killer but right now he’s the only one standing between me and whoever else wears that tattoo.

I make another decision. I’ll keep him close. Use him as a shield. Just a little longer till I figure out what's going on.

When I step back into the penthouse, Nicolai is waiting with my coffee and he hands me the mug with that same quiet concern.

I rise on my toes and press a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. Guilt claws up my throat.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He studies my face a beat too long. “You okay?”

I nod and sip the coffee. Pretending the liquid doesn’t taste like ash.

"I thought we'd made progress, Aria..." His voice is laced with disappointment.

I look up and then I see it.

He’s holding something.

The Locket—the one I hid.

It's open...

Nicolai’s eyes lift to mine. Slow and Steady.

“You’ve been keeping things from me, Aria.”

My coffee mug slips from my numb fingers and shatters on the marble.