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“No,” he mutters, clearly upset about something.
When Nikolai is in a mood, it just helps to listen. Most of the time, I’m able to calm him down.
“Want to talk about it?”
“I fucked one of the attendees.”
I shake my head, not understanding why that would upset him. “And?”
“She’s a fucking thorn in my side.”
I let out a chuckle. “And you decided fucking her would be the best course of action? Why?”
“Christ, it’s hard to explain,” he grumbles. “She’s full of sass and strives to drive me insane.”
Not half as much as Camille’s driving me insane.
I don’t mention anything because this conversation isn’t about me. Instead, I say, “Yeah, I still don’t understand why you decided to fuck her and why it’s a problem.”
There’s a moment’s silence before he admits, “I care about her.”
My eyebrows fly up because that’s a first. Nikolai is a bachelor by choice, and the longest relationship he’s had was when he married my sister because I asked him to.
“Oh,” I mutter. “How much do you care about her?”
“Too much. I fucking asked Viktor to cancel the hit he had out on her.”
“Hold on.” I almost choke on a droplet of spit and clear my throat. “Last time I checked, there were two active hits. Which one are we talking about?”
“Abigail Sartori.”
Surprised as fuck, I almost shout, “You fucked Sartori’s daughter?” A bark of laughter escapes from me. “Jesus, now this story is getting good.”
The Sartoris are enemies of the bratva and mafia. For Nikolai to fuck Abigail, the woman has to mean something to him.
“Fuck off,” Nikolai mutters.
I get my laughter under control, then ask, “Again, why is this a problem?”
Nikolai lets out a sigh. “Because I love my life the way it is, and I don’t need a woman destroying my routine.”
“Did you ever stop to think that just maybe a woman will add to the quality of your life?”
“Yeah, so tell me, why aren’t you married yet?” he asks.
“Because I haven’t met the one.”
Camille’s face pops into my mind, but I quickly shake my head to banish her from my thoughts.
“Right.” Nikolai sighs again, then says, “Abigail is a fucking handful. We’ll end up killing each other.”
Trying to be the voice of reason, I say, “You don’t know that.”
“I do. No one has ever pissed me off as much as she does.”
Getting up from the couch, I walk to the kitchen and take a bottle of water from the fridge. “Why does she piss you off?”
“She fucking flirts like it’s a paying job and doesn’t take anything seriously.”
