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“Why do you care, Ilya?” I roll my eyes and he releases me. “You haven’t talked to me in years. Where’s your friend?”
Annie gets closer to us, standing next to Ilya to be able to hear our conversation. She’s not even being discreet about it; she’s not the kind of person that pretends. “Nik?—”
“No.” I smile. “Dmitri.”
“Oh, he’s here.” He grins, wagging his eyebrows, and Annie’s face heats. Interesting. “With Nik.”
“Don’t call him that,” I reply through gritted teeth. That’s my nickname for him.
“Hit a nerve?” He grins, then sucks his lip piercing into his mouth.
There used to be a time when Ilya, Dmitri, Nik, and I hung out. It was fun while it lasted, but just as everything… forbidden…so it came to an end. We became close for a while, though. It was something even Annie did not know about. Ilya and Dmitri. I only ever told her about Nik.
I smile. “Never.”
“So, who did it? Because if Nikolai sees you like this, he will be murderous.”
“I don’t see why.” We look at each other for a moment. We both know Nikolai doesn’t owe me anything. He shouldn’t even care what happens to me anymore. What’s done is done, and I can never take it back. Not this, anyway. “We’re done.”
“You know him.” Ilya leads me off the dance floor and to the lounge area where we were sitting earlier. “Much better.” He says. I can hear him better now that we don’t have to raise our voices as much. It’s a secluded area. “He’s never going to be done with you.”
“He seemed pretty done for years now.” And he did. “He never once attempted contact again.”
“He knew what was at stake?—”
“What isstillat stake.”
“He doesn’t care anymore.”
“Ido.”
Ilya huffs, puffing his chest momentarily before taking another deep breath and looking at me. “Whatever, Camilla. If you don’t want him anymore, that’s up to you. But he will never stop.”
“I don’t care.” I lie through my teeth. “It’s never going to happen again.”
I look around the club, then stop in my tracks at the sight of Nikolai. Broad back, big shoulders, trim waist. As if he can sense me, he turns around and makes eye contact. Heat courses through my body, and just as I mean to look away, he starts walking toward me with purpose.
So I stand up.
And I run away.
15 Years Old
“Isaid no, Alessandro!” A girl that can’t be much younger than me screams. Her waist-length dark hair is blown sideways by the wind, and her short dress ripples too. The blue scrap of fabric is laughable, and the little daisies scattered around the dress are cute.
I smile.
“Cazzo!”She huffs, and my skin prickles.
I’m all alone tonight, and the thought of getting caught up with Italians by myself and getting fucked up drives me to walk away as fast as possible. I know Alessandro DeLuca. He’s a few years older than me, and ruthless. So is his father. Definitely not what I need tonight in the middle of the night when no one will know where to find me. They won’t even know where to start looking for me.
She turns around and makes eye contact with me, and my stomach drops. She’s the girl from a few months ago—the one smiling at me from the table at Mandy’s. Her green eyes narrow for a moment when they meet mine, and then she laughs, but it’s not at anything I said—it’s at her brother.
Before she can say anything or do something stupid like blow my cover, I turn around and walk away, hurrying toward my safe sanctuary: the playground at Garry Park.
I climb up until I’m at the top of the playground and get in the longest slide, but instead of going, I just put my feet against the walls to prevent myself from sliding to the bottom. Especially now that I hear the crunching of mulch under a pair of shoes. I hold my breath and wait. I’m only fifteen, and if the Italians come here armed and ready, I’ll be dead in less time than it takes to take in a breath.
“I know you’re in there!” A soft voice calls out, taunting me. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
