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“I’ll talk to my father about it,” I respond, not exactly willing to take orders from a man I don’t even know.
“Do that. In the meantime, you will do as I say. Now, go back in your room and close the door. Once Vic returns, I’ll go speak with your father.”
“You’re very bossy for a man I just met.”
He almost smiles at me. I don’t think you can call it a complete smile. It mostly looks like his lips are turning up and then stop so that it’s more of a wince. I get the feeling that Niko doesn’t smile very often.
“Just do it, Emilia,” he demands. I move back into my room and close the door.
I hear Niko’s knuckles rap against the door. Before I can even get the chance to step away from it. I open the door and he’s staring at me, shaking his head in disapproval.
“What?” I huff, getting fed up. I don’t even know this guy.
“I said don’t open your door for anyone,” he reminds me.
“I remember.”
“Then, why did you open the door for me?”
“Because you knocked.”
“I just told you not to do that, Emilia.”
“But you…I…”
“I don’t care if you know it’s Santa Claus out here. You don’t open your door.”
“Fine,” I huff, and I shut my door forcefully. It’s not slamming it—like I want. Still, it lets him know I’m not happy. I doubt he cares how I feel. When I hear his dry laugh a second later, I’m sure of it.
Niko Petrova is an asshole.
CHAPTER7
Niko
A Little Over Two Years Later
“Niko, glad you could make it, son,” Maxwell says, opening the door.
I want to laugh, but I don’t. When Maxwell Korslova invites you to his daughter’s birthday bash, you go—even if you’d rather be shot. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else. Where is little Emilia?”
“Not so little these days. There are entirely too many sharks swimming around her. I need to put a stop to it,” he complains.
I laugh like I understand what he’s talking about. In reality, I have no idea. I never will. Kids are not in my life plan. I am fine with just scratching an itch when needed. My gaze moves to Katherine—my date for the night. She and I have an understanding. No strings and mutual satisfaction. She’s not looking for forever and I don’t have to worry she’ll try to demand it. She’s like me—she just has killer tits and a pussy that never gets enough. That makes it easy. It’s also the only type of relationship a man like me gets and I’m okay with that. You make certain sacrifices to have the kind of life I do.
“I suppose,” I respond before sipping on the whiskey he handed me as he walked up. We’re off to the corner of the room, while the rest of the guests are mingling. This is normal for us. In the two years since I was promoted—at Maxwell’s urging—the two of us have become closer. He is my sounding board and my orders from DeLuca usually come through Maxwell. Maxwell is also right there during my meetings to go over everything with the Boss. I’m grateful. He’s become a great mentor through the years.
“Look at that sniveling asshole over there,” Maxwell growls under his breath. “I want to serve his head on a platter to Antonio and it pisses me off that we haven’t been able to.”
“I know,” I murmur, my gaze following his line of sight. I see Emilia standing, talking to her friend Zoe and another girl. There are some boys there, too, but that’s not what Maxwell is complaining about. No, that would be Dante Russo. He wants Emilia. I knew that when she was fourteen, and it’s becoming even more apparent now. He’s just a year or so younger than me—which means he’s way too fucking old for Emilia. Hell, we’re almost double her age. I shake my head, disgusted. I know how slimy Dante is. Emilia isn’t safe around him. I know he had something to do with Gio’s death. It’s been over two years now, though, and I still haven’t found a way to prove it. All roads led to a low-level grunt in a local gang. The path led straight to him. It was obvious—tooobvious. The family exacted revenge with the information uncovered, but he felt much like Maxwell and I did. We didn’t get the whole story. It can’t be coincidence that Dante shot the guy before we could get information from him. He told DeLuca he lost control because the man killed his father. I think he was just trying to cover his tracks. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but somehow, I will eventually prove that Dante killed his own father. In the meantime, I’m keeping him out of Florida every chance I can get—doing my best to watch my own back.
Still, the weasel slithers back into town too damn much.Like tonight.
“That kid is a waste of air.”
“Emilia doesn’t like him,” I respond. I don’t really know how she feels about him, but she didn’t like him a couple of years ago, so I’m hoping that hasn’t changed.
“She doesn’t, but I don’t trust him not to take the decision out of her hands.”
