Chapter 65 Episode 65
1629 Words
“Maybe. But I’m okay. I’ll… I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Numbly, she shuffles down the hallway and into her room. Themoment her door is closed, I spin on Nikolai.
“You killed two people. In front of her! What the f**k iswrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with you?” he roars, looming over me like athundering volcano, ready to burst. “After everything wetalked about, after everything I did to bring you here and keepyou safe, you turn around and throw yourself into the line offire. Why?”
“You’re the one who put us in the line of fire!”
“Because the Greek mafia was about to turn you into hostagesto blackmail me. Or worse—they were going to dispose ofyou.”
I shake my head. “You don’t know who that was. Or what theywere going to do.”
“That’s what they do with problems, Belle. And you are onehuge f*****g problem. Take it from me.”
My hand itches to hit him, but I know it won’t do any good.He’s steel and stone from head to toe, from skin to soul. “Thenlet us go! All you do is complain about how much trouble Iam. So why put yourself through it?”
“I’m not putting myself through anything,” he hisses. “You’reputting me through it. You’re putting yourself through it, too.And Elise.”
“I was trying to be free!”
He snorts. “Free from this luxurious, safe mansion I’vetrapped you in? Yes, I’m sure everyone will be so sympatheticto your plight.”
“A gilded cage is still a cage.”
There’s no question: that’s what life with Nikolai would be. I’dhave a beautiful house and all the things I could ever want—wonderful trips, beautiful dresses, time and supplies to sketchand design.
But I wouldn’t have the only thing that matters.
And living so close to Nikolai but not being able to have all ofhim… that would be the worst kind of prison. Like chaining astarving woman just out of reach of a buffet.
“Do I have to remind you that the only reason you’re here isbecause you refused to take care of yourself?” he snaps. “Iflew to Oklahoma City. I came to your house to try and help. Icould have sent Arslan to pick you up and drag you to me ifthat’s what I’d wanted.”
“What are we doing then?” I ask, choking back a sob. “Whybother bringing me here or coming to my house at all? Itsounds like we’re both just miserable.”
“Because I will do anything to protect someone I love.”
I’m no fool. It’s the baby. He’s talking about the baby.
My heart squeezes, but the pain doesn’t take my breath awaylike I expect. I guess I’m getting used to Nikolai’sindifference. Maybe one day, it won’t hurt at all.
But that day isn’t today.
“I lied to you,” I blurt. “When you asked about who I’ve sleptwith since I last saw you, I lied.”
“Is that right?” His voice is a threat.
“Yup. I’ve had loads of s*x. Lots of it. With regulars at the bar.With Roger. And Tony, too.”
Shivers move down my spine at the thought of touching any ofthose sweaty, alcohol-soaked scumbags. I clamp down on mymolars to keep Nikolai from noticing.
“The baby probably isn’t even yours. The dad could beanyone. I don’t even know who. So all of this talk aboutresponsibility and taking care of the people you love…” Iwave my hand dismissively. “You can forget that. If you’reonly keeping me here because of your love for your child, wellthen, you should know you might be doing all of this forTony’s baby. Who even knows?”
“I never said I was doing this for the baby,” he spits.
I frown. “Yes, you did. You just said you’d do anything toprotect—”
“To protect someone I love, yes,” he finishes. “But I wasn’ttalking about the baby.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the words dry up asrealization settles over me. I’m afraid to move and disturb themoment. Afraid it might slip away before I can grab hold.
Nikolai doesn’t blink. His eyes are luminous, irresistible. “Iwasn’t talking about the baby,” he repeats. “I was talking
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know they’retrue. They’ve been simmering under the surface for days,weeks, months.
If I was anyone else, I’d laugh in my own face. What kind ofself-destructive i***t risks decades of hard work for someoneso infuriating? I can have any woman I want at the snap of myfingers. The world is mine for the taking, along with anyone init.
But like I’ve always suspected, love is a virus. A weaknessyou beg for, even as it sucks you dry.
And I’m absolutely sick with it.
Belle blinks at me, stunned. Since I showed up outside the barwhere she worked, she’s been all passion and indignation.Right now, though, she’s utterly blank.
The longer the silence stretches, the more ridiculous it allfeels.
“You… you love me?” she stutters.
“I called off my wedding, didn’t I?”
Belle shakes her head. “That wasn’t my question.”
“I flew hundreds of miles at the drop of a hat to save you froma r****t,” I grit out. “I chased your sister around when she ranaway—twice. She crashed my car into a field of horses and Ididn’t say a thing.”
“Actions speak louder than words,” Belle says softly.
“And mine have been clear as crystal since the beginning,” Ifire back. “You’re the one who chose to leave.”
“Because you were getting married!”
“So what?” Belle blinks frantically. “What do you want fromme, Nikolai? What am I supposed to say?”
What a question. What an impossible f*****g question.
But I don’t need to know her answer. Asking the questionitself is answer enough. So I turn and walk away, and I leavethe worst mistake I’ve ever made behind me.
I make sure I don’t look back.
Even though it kills me not to.
It’s after midnight, but I don’t give a s**t. I pound on GiorgosSimatou’s front door as hard as I can.
“Open up, you spineless bastard!” I shout. “I know you’reawake. If you’re waiting for your men to come back with aprize, you’ll be waiting a long while.”
When the door opens, a man I don’t recognize is standing inthe threshold. He’s young with a patchy beard and wide, timideyes. A lackey in every sense of the word.
“I want to see your boss,” I bark. “Now.”
“Don Simatou isn’t available.” His accent is thickly Greek.
I kick the base of the door hard. The man stumbles back, and Imarch past him into the entryway.
“Hello?” My voice echoes off the high ceilings and marblefloors. “Someone is here for you, Giorgos.”
“Giorgos isn’t available,” the man says again as he scurries upfrom behind me. He’s breathless, fumbling for a weapon at hiship.
I swat it out of his hands and pin him against a wall with anaggressive thump. “I just killed two of your friends forintervening in my affairs. Are you really so eager to becomethe third?”
I hear a gun click behind me. I turn just as a second man pointshis weapon at the center of my chest. “We don’t want anytrouble, Don Zhukova,” the man intones.
In one swift move, I reach out and twist it around so themuzzle is now pointing at the man’s neck.
“Neither do I,” I hiss. “Which is why you’re going to get meyour boss. Now.”
The man’s eyes are bulging from their sockets. He’s tremblingalready, the coward. Pitiful. “The boss isn’t available. It’slate.”
“Not too late for him to send two men to my house to snatchup my woman, though, is it?”
My woman. The words slip out unintentionally. Belle isn’tmine. Not in the way I want her to be. But Giorgos doesn’tknow that. And he came for her anyway.
“Giorgos isn’t here,” the man says yet again, holding up hishands in surrender. “The boss is out.”
The first man behind me moves for his gun, but I pivot aroundthe soldier I’m holding and aim the one in my hand at hisfriend. They both freeze.
“Giorgos ought to place more emphasis on your manners. Youshould always use his proper title in mixed company. Heshould place more emphasis on your training, too. It’s far tooeasy to kill you.”
Both men are shaking now. They share a nervous glance. It’spathetic, but enough to tell me what I need to know: he reallyisn’t here.
I drop the gun on the floor and kick it skittering down theentryway. Both men breathe a little easier.
“Tell Giorgos I want to talk to him,” I snarl over my shoulder.
Then I stalk out. As soon as I’m back in my car, I call Arslan.
“Please tell me you haven’t killed more people,” he pleadswhen he answers. “I just disposed of the last two. And if it’salright with Your Mighty Bratvaness, I’d like to get somefucking shut-eye.”
“No one else is dead. Not for lack of trying.”
“Oh, you gotta be shitting me. Did he send more schmucksafter you?”
“No. I came to him.”
- Writer
