Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
He studies me in silence, muscles taut with some private war. Part of him wants to let me in, but the wall between us still towers. His fingers twitch at his sides, as if he’s seconds from grabbing me, or bolting.
Then, finally, he steps forward.
He lifts a hand and brushes a lock of hair from my cheek, tucking it behind my ear. The touch is gentle, almost reverent, like I’m fragile and he’s terrified he’ll be the one to break me.
“You’ve already seen more than I wanted you to,” he says, barely above a whisper.
I search his eyes. “So why do you feel like you have to hide?”
He exhales slowly. “You saw me with Sasha tonight,” he says, “and you didn’t flinch. You didn’t panic. You didn’t walk away. That should’ve scared you, Nicole.”
“It takes a lot to scare me,” I say defiantly.
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
He says it like a curse, as though my reaction to this fucked-up situation is the problem. His thumb traces a line across my cheekbone, then down along my jaw. I lean in to his touch before I even realize I’m doing it. My body responds to him before my brain can tell it not to.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says softly. “You don’t know what it means to really know me.”
“I guess we’ll never know until you show me.”
His eyes drop to my lips. There’s so much unsaid between us, crackling in the space we haven’t quite closed. And for a second, I think he might lean in. I think he might give in to whatever this is simmering between us.
But instead, he steps back, his hand falling to his side. Just like that, the warmth between us disappears.
“You’ve had enough for one night,” he says, and the sudden change in tone sends a chill down my spine. “Try to get some rest.”
I don’t stop him this time. I don’t chase him or press for more. I just stand there, watching as he walks to the door, opens it, and pauses.
He turns his head slightly. “Goodnight, Nicole.”
He slips into the hallway, closing the door with quiet finality.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, heart pounding in my ears. Why does he have to make everything so complicated? We could walk away, pretend none of this exists.
Yet every time he pushes me away, he pulls me back even harder, confusing me in ways I’m not ready to name.
20
SERGEI
It takes Sasha three days of bed rest to recover enough to even walk again. The idiot nearly got himself killed confronting one of Semion’s men like he was bulletproof. He did exactly what I warned him not to do. He rushed into a fight he wasn’t prepared for and nearly died, never once thinking about how the Bratva would survive without him. He certainly didn’t spare me a thought.
Every time I close my eyes, I see him on my doorstep bloodied and badly beaten. I was genuinely terrified he’d bleed out right there, and there’d be nothing I could do. If it weren’t for Nicole, he probably wouldn’t be here now.
She didn’t panic or freeze the way most people would. She simply grabbed the supplies and worked a fucking miracle. He’s still sore. He’s still doubling over in pain when he thinks I’m not watching him. But he’s alive.
I’m still angry with him. He did the exact thing I told him not to do, which would result in an official reprimand if he weren’t my brother. Anyone else in the Bratva doing that shit would face the full extent of my wrath. He’s lucky I love him, but his loyalty to the organization is no excuse for his recklessness.
Yet, despite everything else vying for my attention, Nicole is all I can think about. In the three days since Sasha’s injury, she’s been different around me. It isn’t obvious to anyone but me, but she now hesitates just ever so slightly when I step into a room. She avoids lingering too long when we pass each other in the hall. She hasn’t let a single one of our conversations veer into any topics that aren’t about my mother’s health.
At first I thought she simply regretted sleeping with me again. And maybe that was part of it, but this didn’t start until after I asked her to help Sasha. She was direct with me then, practically begging me to tell her who I really am and what I do.
She’s pulling away because I’m holding back.
To thank her for her help, I book a quiet Italian spot on the Upper East Side. It’s small, intimate, and secluded. Some may even call it romantic, but I expect nothing from this. I’m not trying to convince her to sleep with me again. This is just a gesture to show my appreciation. And the flowers I buy are also just a gesture. Definitely not a way to sweeten my chances with her.