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“Give me a chance to explain myself,” he says, firm and resolute. “Come to my place tonight. I have to wrap up this meeting, but I swear to you, I’ll tell you absolutely everything. No more lies.”
The logical side of my brain tells me to just leave. What’s there to explain? Leo breaks the law for a living. Am I supposed to give him a second chance? Not only that, but he put my father through hell the last few weeks. I can only imagine the countless hundreds, maybe even thousands of other people he’s collected debts from. Is that even the extent of his work? What other horrible things is he capable of?
I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. It’s cold out. I want to go home. Leo looks at me without a hint of anger, only anguish.
“Please,” he says. “Please, give me a chance.”
My mouth is dry. I don’t know what to believe anymore. The last twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind, and I’m frankly holding on for dear life. Everything is crashing down around me, and I’m so exhausted I have half a mind to let it bury me. I’m a raw nerve scrubbed within an inch of its life, barely keeping it together.
For a brief moment, I wonder if this is some sort of trap. What if Leo is trying to lure me somewhere private where he can take me out? I’m a risk, aren’t I, knowing all that I know? Aren’t I a liability to someone like him?
My gut tells me it’s not possible. I don’t sense an ounce of maliciousness. Not when he’s looking at me like I’m holding his heart in the palm of my hands.
“Fine,” I grumble.
He gives me a spare key from his key ring. “I’ll meet you there.”
Chapter 21
Leo
Ican’t remember the last time I was this stressed. The elevator ride up to the penthouse has a completely different vibe than it did last time. Before, I was excited to see Nikita, knowing the night we had ahead. Now I’m excited to see Nikita for an entirely different reason, because if she did in fact show up, it means she’s giving me a chance to explain myself.
The only problem is I don’t know where to start.
If only I had known Erik Belov was her father–I actually don’t know what I would have done. I probably would have thought how incredibly unfair it was that a mousy little thing wound up with such a beauty of a daughter. She deserves better than a father with a gambling addiction and no impulse control. She deserves better than to bail him out. The envelope she gave me, the one with enough money to cover his remaining debt, burns a hole in my pocket. Did she have to cough that up to cover his sorry ass?
Does this mean the jewelry he gave me the other day belonged to her? Suddenly everything makes sense. The strange look she gave me when I presented her with the bracelet… It occurs to me now how messed up that was, to gift her something that was originally hers to start with.
I find her seated at the kitchen table, positioning herself in such a way that she can keep an eye on the elevator. Everything about her body language screams defensive, tense. She reminds me of a scared little rabbit, ready to dash off the moment she senses danger. My chest tightens knowing I am the cause of her worry.
Nikita doesn’t say anything as I approach. I move slowly, afraid one wrong move will send her running. I don’t want to scare her. That’s the last thing I want. But right now, with her wide eyes and lips pressed into a thin line, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells. I screwed up by not telling her the truth. I know that. But what on Earth was I supposed to do?
I take a seat opposite her, ensuring she has enough space to feel comfortable. The silence that follows is thick and heavy. I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous. I can’t remember the last time Icaredabout someone else’s opinion as much as I do Nikita’s. What does she think of me? What will she say? How can we ever hope to move forward from here?
“I want the truth,” she says, her voice steady and clear. “Start from the beginning. Leave nothing out. And in return, I promise to sit here and listen. If I sense one ounce of bullshit, I will get up and leave and you will never see me again.”
In the grand scheme of things, that’s as generous an offer as I’m going to get. I clench my fists, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I search for the right words. She wants me to start from the beginning? That’s a long story, even for me, but I want to give Nikita everything she wants—the truth included.
“My father was a mechanic. My mother was a schoolteacher. We didn’t grow up with a lot of money. I think we were always destined for this kind of life. My father drank a lot. He had a temper. Our mother shielded us from most of it, but I’m sure you can imagine the kind of influence that has on a kid.
“We lost our mother pretty young. She got sick, and because our father preferred to piss all our money away on alcohol, we couldn’t afford to get her the proper treatment. To add salt to the wound, he started seeing a mistress on the side. Wound up getting her pregnant. That’s how we ended up with our half-brother, Damien. We lost our mom not too long after, and things at home only deteriorated from there.
“As you can imagine, nobody really believed we’d accomplish much. Our teachers had given up on us. We didn’t have the resources for counseling. It was easy, falling into a life of petty crime. Started off small. Boosting cars, shoplifting and the like. But my brother, Andrei, he’s always been a visionary. If the world was going to deal us a shitty hand, then the least we could do is make sure we wouldn’t die two-bit thugs.
“So we worked our way up, made a name for ourselves. Long story short, we wound up leading the Bratva. Andrei leads it with his wife, Sandra, who you met. One of the twins. She comes from Bratva royalty. I won’t get into the details, but the point is that through ambition and tenacity—as well as an opportune marriage—my brothers and I now rule Moscow.”
When I finish, I let out a heavy sigh. I’m not sure how detailed she wants me to be, but I think I’ve captured the gist of the situation. It’s strange, summarizing my family’s rise to power so casually.
“I have done things I’m not proud of,” I continue, “but that comes with the territory. I’m not going to fool myself into believing I’m a righteous man doing the wrong things for the right reasons. I have pride in my work. This is what I do, who I am.”
Nikita visibly squirms in her seat, her brows knitted into a steep frown as she laces her fingers together and places them on the surface of the table. She looks off into the distance, eyes cloudy. I can’t get a read on her. She’s completely still, an impassable wall separating the two of us. I’m so used to her smiles, to her carefree laughter that this version of her, angry and understandably bitter, puts me on edge.
“What exactly do you do within the Bratva?” she asks softly.
“I’m the numbers man.” I try to swallow the sticky lump in the back of my throat. It doesn’t budge. “The accountant. I handle any matters related to money. I never lied to you about that.”
“Including collecting debts?”
