With a groan, she drops her head into her hands. I’d believe she was disappointed if I didn’t see a pink hue creeping up her nape. She enjoyed letting go of the reigns for a night, but she also feels guilty.
It’s another unwanted survivor’s trait.
“Okay.” Justine’s deep exhale to rid her stomach of nerves fans my face with the scent of maple syrup. “First, thank you for arranging Maddox’s transfer to Harborview.” When I attempt to tell her I don’t deserve her credit, she continues talking, stopping me. “You may not have directly initiated it, but if you hadn’t asked Roman to look into it, it would have never happened. So, thank you.”
She’s right. Doesn’t make it any easier to swallow, though.
Although I have no issues taking in what she says next, “Second, I am attracted to you, but nothing can come of it. I am your attorney, Nikolai.”
“That can be fixed.”
She continues speaking as if I didn’t interrupt her, “I’m also not a girl who does casual sex. I don’t necessarily need commitment, but I need feelings.”
Feelings?Feelings get idiots killed. Rico’s death is evidence of this. I will protect Justine, and keep her safe, but I can’t do feelings.
“You need a heart to feel,Ahren. I don’t have one of those.” I didn’t mean for my tone to come out as it did. It was rough and full of command, one I generally use on my men when their fucking around costs me millions of dollars.
My mood goes from bad to worse when Justine says, “Any man can be a monster, Nikolai, but only a monster who knows right from wrong can turn into a man. You were born in your lifestyle, but it only became your life when you let it.”
The first half of her comment were the exact words Carmichael spoke to me when he convinced me to tattle on Vladimir. He told me that I was better than the world I was born in and had my fucked-up sixteen year old head believing I wasn’t a monster.
I fell for his trick once.
It sure as fuck won’t happen again.
“No. This life was not my choice. It was my destiny. This is who I am,Ahren. I am my father’s son.” I stand up for myself as I should have done almost thirteen years ago by reciting the words I screamed at Vladimir when he left me hanging bloody and bruised in an abandoned warehouse after he found out what I had done. “I am the devil reincarnated to rule my empire and slay the weak. I am Nikolai: Prince of the Russian Mafia.”
The voice that responds doesn’t sound like the one in my head, but it’s pronged with just as much hate. “Your family are not gods, Nikolai. They are mere men who will meet with their creator on their final day just like every other person on the planet.”
As a mask slips over my face to hide the vulnerability I thought was stolen from me years ago, I snarl at Justine, “You need to watch your tongue. Respect is a highly valued commodity in my family. It's more worthwhile than life itself.”
She nods, agreeing with me, but she doesn’t back down. I don’t know whether to admire her gall or detest it.
If Vladimir is listening in, the choice will be taken out of my hands.
“Respect is valued, but when it's gained with integrity it far exceeds respect gained by force.”
“Respect without fear is worthless.”
“No,” Justine denies, shaking her head. “Respect derived from fear is worthless. Fear is forcing people to bow at your feet. Respect has them bowing of their own free will. They are two completely different things, Nikolai.” She stares at me like she sees through the shield others can’t. Like I am as open and as exposed as her eyes. “You know this. Deep down inside, you know what I am saying is true. Values are not taught. We are born with them.”
“That is easy for you to preach when you’re not the one forced to toe the line. Shadowing his reign is the only thing keeping me alive. If I don’t do that, I’ll be buried right alongside my father. You don’t have to understand the rules of this lifestyle, Justine, but I must abide by them.” My teeth smash together when I forcefully shut my mouth. In the heat of the moment, I spoke words that could get me killed. Or worse, Justine.
Unaware of the danger she’s putting us in, the argumentative pitch in Justine’s tone switches to a plea. “Leave, Nikolai. Walk away and don’t look back.”
“I can’t!” As haunted memories steal my every sense, I drag my arm across the table, clearing it of the plates and cutlery we used to eat our breakfast. “Disrespecting Vladimir carries the penalty of death. If I leave, it will be at the cost of my life.”
Needing to leave before I hammer another nail into our coffins, I exit the kitchen without so much of a backward glance. My speed is so brutal, I send Roman sailing when I burst through the swinging door.
If I weren’t already aware I had ears listening in on my private conversation, I am now.
“Call Vladimir. I want out.”
Roman scampers to his feet before following me into the guest bedroom of Justine’s apartment to watch me pack. To go where? I don’t know. I just need to leave Justine’s apartment before my fucked-up childhood conjures up ways for me to discover if I’m being played again.
She saidhiswords; the same fucking words that almost got me killed, convincing me I’m either being screwed-over by Carmichael for the second time, or he’s under Justine’s skin more than I realized.
Neither of my theories will end well for Carmichael.
