Page 18 of Obsession of the Bratva

“No.”

A smile. The kind that never reached his eyes.

“If you don’t, Vera, I will have him killed. I don’t want to see you near Nico Romanov ever again.”

My grip tightened. Even now, remembering those words made me feel sick. At the time, I had thought he was bluffing, but then he started naming details. He knew where Nico lived and worked and what routes he used. He knew Nico’s brothers and his associates and the names of people who could make accidents happen. The names of people willing to pull triggers.

That had been the moment I understood.

My father wasn’t threatening. He was informing. And he had the kind of connections to make anything happen. Now, Nico had kidnapped me from my wedding. If Papa had been angry before, I couldn’t imagine what he felt now.

The bedroom door opened, and I turned immediately. For half a second, my heart stopped as I watched Nico standing in the doorway of his room. The air shifted instantly. It always did when he and I were in the same room. I hated that it still happened. The six months apart had done nothing to stop this. Neither had the four days of silence. My body still recognized him before my mind did.

He was beautifully tall with broad shoulders and dark hair, his green eyes always bright. The black dress shirt he was wearing clung to him like a second skin, with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. He had always looked like danger wrapped in expensive fabric. The light stubble on his face told me he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, but I didn’t mind. I knew exactly what it felt like to run my fingers over that face.

I knew the feel of his stubble against my cheek, my chest, my inner thighs.

Stop this, Vera. For fuck’s sake, stop this.

He froze when he saw me, definitely not having expected me in his room. Something tightened in my chest. God. This was ridiculous. I was supposed to hate him for kidnapping me, and he was supposed to hate me. Instead, it felt like standing too close to a fire. Neither of us spoke, and the silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.

I had wandered into his room nearly twenty minutes ago, intending to force a conversation, and now he had caught me sitting on the edge of his bed like an idiot.

Wonderful.

His eyes moved slowly around the room, then back to me.

“What are you doing in here?”

The question was calm. I set down the water glass.

“I was waiting for you, actually.

His jaw tightened slightly. “Why? I have nothing to say to you and nothing to talk about. Get out.”

The harshness of his words was biting, but I laughed. A short, disbelieving sound.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“I think you have forgotten, Nico, so let me jog your memory a little bit. You kidnapped me from my wedding four days ago.”

A part of me wanted to thank him for that because at least he had saved me from marrying Adrian Petrov. I had hated the man since the moment I had seen him, but I was not about to tell Nico any of that.

“And?”

I stared at him. “And? That is your response?”

His expression didn’t change, and I suddenly had the urge to throw something at him.

“What happens now?”

Silence. He walked further into the room, removed his watch, and placed it on the dresser. Every movement looked controlled and measured, as if nothing could touch him. I remembered when that hadn’t been true. I remembered a version of Nico who smiled more. Who laughed more. Who looked at me like I was the best thing he’d ever found. That version felt very far away now.

“What do you mean?” he finally asked, his voice losing the coldness he had perfected so well, just momentarily.

“What happens now?” I repeated.