“I was born for this life. It is embedded in my blood.” The scent he’s referencing fills the air when he digs the tip of his knife deeper into the throb in my throat. “I am Nikolai, prince of the Russian mafia.” After slanting his head so the light in the alleyway bounces in the murky blue undertones in his narrowed gaze, he warns, “And I’ll slit the throat of any man who dares to say different.”
There is it. The reason for his visit is finally exposed. He’s worried about Callie and where she’ll end up once a new auction date is confirmed, but since he knows it could never be as bad as the hell he was raised in, he’s not here for her.
He is here for himself.
“You’ve been prying into matters that don’t concern you,” he whispers in my ear, his voice without a quiver. “I’ve sentenced men to death for lesser crimes, so why should your fate be any different?”
I twist my head to face him, uncaring it causes my clenched jaw to rub against the butt of his knife. “Because I’m not a man planning to take his secrets to the grave.” He looks set to kill me. The feeling is mutual, but the disdain on his face weakens when I mutter, “But since your secrets aren’t mine to share, that won’t affect you, will it?”
His grin is as evil as the blood tainting his intentions. “I don’t trust anyone.”
I put him on the back foot when I say, “Neither do I, but there will come a point in your life where you’ll have to give up more than your distrust of yourself to protect someone you care about.” I bounce my eyes between his while muttering. “And when that day comes, you’ll look back on this moment and realize I was right.”
He laughs a mocking chuckle. “Spoken like a man not on the verge of peeing his pants.”
“You don’t scare me, Nikolai,” I reply without the slightest bit of fear in my voice. “You’re too afraid of yourself to scare someone else.”
His growl of denial belongs to a monster, but the intimidated boy I see in his eyes doesn’t want to play on that team anymore. “Disrespecting meonlyends one way!”
“Then stop letting him do that. Take fucking charge! Grab ahold of the reins and don’t let them go until you’re no longer theprinceof the Russian mafia. You’re the fucking king!” I don’t disarm him before moving toward him with flaring nostrils and balled fists so we stand chest to chest. I keep our eyes locked and loaded so he knows every single word ripping from my throat is the straight-up truth. “You survived this long, so what the fuck are you worried about? There isn’tanythinghe can do to you that he hasn’t already done, so show himexactlywhat he raised before you end up buried in an unmarked grave along with the rest of your siblings.”
My grief has me switching targets partway through my defusing. I went from Vladimir to Col the instant Ophelia’s way to early demise popped into my head because if I had fought back then, perhaps I wouldn’t be fighting so hard now.
“Now get the fuck out of my office before I show you out with my fists.”
Nikolai’s grin is as evil as the remorse bubbling in my veins. It exposes why I rarely play into the idea that these men can be saved. They’re too far gone, and the remembrance intensifies my wish to show him I’m not a man to be messed with. He’s on my turf, in my fucking office, yet he thinks he can intimidate me.
I am Isaac-fucking-Holt, and Ravenshoe ismytown, but before I can announce that to Nikolai, a third person joins our conversation. “Nikolai…” An African American man with a sprinkling of gray hair at the temples of his afro steps out of the shadows of the bathroom. Unlike Nikolai, he’s dressed for the occasion in a fierce black suit and eyes that accentuate his importance in Nikolai’s life. “This isnotwhy we came here. This goes againsteverythingyou are striving to achieve.” Nikolai’s jaw ticks in sync with mine when he adds, “You came here for answers. He gave you them. Now it is time to leave.”
Over their belief that Nikolai is running the show around here, I blindside him with a structured swing to his jaw before attempting to disarm him. I say attempt because even with blood gushing from his nose, Nikolai rears back up in an instant.
As his knife veers for my chest, I direct my punches at his rib and spleen. Usually, two cracks will take a man of his size down, but the only thing that takes Nikolai down is the man who moves way too fast for his age.
The African American gent places himself between us so quickly, Nikolai’s knife skims across the expensive material of his suit a mere second before it pierces through the wall half an inch from my head.
His interruption enrages Nikolai so much, if the family emblem the Petretti marked their property with wasn’t gleaming in this red-with-anger face, he looks set to gut him where he stands.
The Petretti family crest saved the stranger’s life while thrusting Nikolai headfirst into a torrential downfall that will take him years to escape.
“Tell him to stay away from me! I amnothis son.”
The man standing between us holds up his hand in silent pleading for me to remain quiet. It is the appeal of a desperate man, but since it also belongs to a man who seems to know right from wrong, I adhere to his request.
Don’t worry. I am as shocked as you.
With silence reigning supreme, the tension depriving the air of oxygen soon reaches boiling point.
Nikolai is the first to succumb to the choking conditions. With his fists balled and his eyes locked on a replica the imprint his ‘father’ wants him to believe his biological father left on the cheek of a child, he mutters, “You can’t sell your soul to Satan when the devil has already claimed it.” He drifts his eyes to mine. They’re full of anarchy. “You should remember that before you let him sink his hooks into you. Once you’re in, there’s no way out that doesn’t include a body bag.”
With that, he exits my office without so much of a backward glance.
When the man who shadows his every move attempts to pry his knife from the wall, I snap out, “Leave it.” I shift on my feet to face him. “He came here to deliver a message, so the least I can do is make sure it’s given to the right person.”
“Very well.” With his chin touching his shirt and his eyes thankful, he bows his head in thanks before hot-footing it in the direction Nikolai just went.
Not even twenty seconds later, Tina’s small frame fills the doorframe. “Hey…” She flicks on the light before moseying into my office like she owns the place. When she fans her hands across her tiny hip, then arches a brow, I raise my hand to the portion of skin she’s gawking at. Blood coats my fingertips, but there isn’t enough to lessen Tina’s ability to flirt. “There are plenty of fun things we can do in the dark, but shaving isn’t one of them.”
After huffing as if she is witty, I wipe away the blood on my neck, then gather the jacket I placed on the coat rack while pretending I wasn’t being eyed with as much reverence. While acting ignorant to the adrenaline thickening my blood, I gesture for Tina to lead the way to the back parking lot.
