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“There is something else we need to talk about before we take this further while we’re alone.”
“What’s that?”
He clears his throat. “About your dad…”
“Look, you don’t need to spin me any story about him. He always did favour you over me anyway, so maybe it was right he…”
“It’s not about that, and you know that isn’t true. He loved you.”
“Did he, though?” I ask and suddenly feel incredibly uncomfortable delving into this subject. “He’s dead and buried and that’s where he’s going to stay.”
Beckett fights with himself for a moment. The response he has on the tip of his tongue isn’t one he readily gives, I can tell from the way he goes to speak but hesitates. Instead, he takes a moment to inhale before setting a stern look on me.
“I think my dad had something to do with Nicolas’s death.”
My eyebrows start to pull tight.
“But why?” My brain feels like it’s going to explode under the news of this. “They were best friends. What did he gain from this?”
The very moment I say that, more pieces start to merge, and I realise exactly why.
“Me being the boss.”
The comment doesn’t need much flourish to it. Beckett’s correct on that. With me out of the way and Nicolas gone for good, nothing stopped the Knights from taking full power.
“Think about it.” He sits up, enthralled about unravelling this. “Nicolas wasn’t in ill-health. A couple of weeks, maybe three or four, before he died, he had a health check. Aside from weakening of his heart, he was in good health. Amazing even.”
Shaking my head, I say, “It doesn’t excuse what he did to me.”
“I’m not saying it does, Natalia, but what if there’s more to it? My father got to me. My father got to you. What’s to say he didn’t get to Nicolas too?”
“You mean poisoning him against me?”
He shrugs unrevealingly. “Just think about it before you rule it out.”
“You do realise that if that’s the case, Beckett, I can’t let him get away with it.”
“Darling girl.” He sniggers, moving in closer. “I made a vow years ago.” His eyes meet mine to see if I remember what he’s about to talk about. “I said that if anyone—and I meant anyone—so much as thought about touching a hair on your head, their life wouldn’t be worth living.” He leans closer, a hand coming to my jaw. Calloused fingers stroke my soft skin. “I make no exemptions.”
The sound of that threat is something beautiful. I can feel heat pool in my stomach, my body suddenly a wildfire at how turned on he’s made me. I’ve barely bitten my lip before I push Beckett to a wall, and he lets me do so willingly. My fingers play with the collar of his shirt, and I bite my lip harder as I take in the moment.
“I always wanted this.”
“What? Me under your thumb?”
I laugh but shake my head. “You. Me.Ourempire.”
“You’re not alone in that, darling girl.”
A silence settles between us, but it’s not unnerving. Actually, this is the most cathartic moment I’ve had since coming back to the city. But as therapeutic as it is, and how freeing it is to have landed the truth on Beckett, it opens old wounds and begs new questions.
Ones I need answers to.
“Do you ever think about what could have been?” I can’t hide the reticence in my voice, and I don’t hate myself for the vulnerability. “About the baby, that is. About where we’d be had nothing bad happened.”
“I tried not to.” His admission is soft. “But there have been a lot of late nights where I couldn’t stop myself.”
“And?”
