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So my departure needed to be believable. And I needed to give Nic a reason not to chase after me. Ever.
On shaky legs, I hurried to my stateroom to find my bags.
Chapter Eight
NIKOLAI
I didn’t like lying to Theo. I wished things could be honest and open between us, but the nature of my life did not allow it. This didn’t mean I was immune from feeling guilt over it, though.
He deserved better. I was just selfish enough not to care. I wanted him for as long as I could manage.
My phone rang. For the better part of the next hour, I was distracted by calls, with Ilya listening in. Though I was on holiday, there were many decisions that couldn’t wait. Truthfully, being a criminal was exhausting. Not to mention constantly hiding to stay safe.
I stared out the window as I listened to my captain list his complaints. The weather was beautiful today, and I wished I were on deck with Theo, tasting the sun on his skin. Rubbing oil on him. Listening to him chatter on about celebrities and fashion and other things I had no interest in. Whatever he liked, I wanted to hear his every thought and opinion about it.
I was tired of being alone, giving every bit of my time to the Bratva. Was this all I would have until I died?
Ilya’s phone rang. He looked down and then stood, moving away to answer it. I didn’t pay much attention. But when Ilya turned and made a slashing motion with his hand, I frowned. Leaning toward my phone, I barked, “Work together or I will cut off your balls, Viktor.” Then I disconnected. “What?” I snapped at Ilya.
“A helicopter is coming toward us. Not far off starboard.”
I shot out of my chair and hurried into the corridor, Ilya on my heels. We were far enough off shore that a helicopter would not fly by unless it was intentional.
Who was coming toward my boat?
On deck, I gripped the railing with both hands, my knuckles turning white. Blyat! A helicopter was flying toward us. My crew members were assembling on deck, each one of them armed. Ilya handed me a pistol. “Get the rocket launcher,” I murmured. “Just in case.”
He disappeared to do as I asked. Giulio and Alessio wandered over to this side of the yacht, as well. “Who is it?” Giulio called.
“I don’t know.”
“My rifle,” the Italian assassin barked in Russian. “I want it, Nikolai.”
“Too fucking bad,” I said. “You won’t get it.”
Alessio and young Ravazzani exchanged a look, but I ignored them. I never took my eye off the helicopter as it approached.
“Oh, good. They’re here.”
Theo. Cold panic slithered across my skin. He shouldn’t be on deck. I needed him safe from whatever was about to happen. “Solnyshko. Go below and stay there until I’ve dealt with this.”
“The helicopter is here for me.”
I spun toward him. He was fully dressed and had his bags with him—all his bags. “I don’t understand. Here for you?”
He didn’t take off his sunglasses as he gave me a bland smile. His shoulders were tight, his posture rigid. He looked like the time when he found the fast-fashion shirt in my closet and lectured me for thirty minutes about the unsafe labor conditions the company used. Warning bells began clanging in my head.
“I am sorry,” he was saying, “but there is an emergency in Paris. I arranged for my friend’s helicopter to come get me. I must cut our holiday short and return as quickly as possible.”
He was leaving? Disappointment crashed through me. It was all happening too fast and my brain was still catching up. “Oh.”
The helicopter drew closer and I ordered the crew to put their guns away. Theo stood at the railing, avoiding my eye and keeping his distance. I hated it. Giulio went over and hugged him, but the embrace was quick and without Theo’s usual enthusiasm. This emergency, it must be very troubling.
Still, I didn’t care. I needed answers from him and I was not a man who waited.
Stalking closer, I grabbed Theo’s wrist and tugged him into the salon. When we were alone, I said, “Why didn’t you come to me first?”
Wind swirled as the helicopter landed outside, but Theo and I didn’t move. Finally, he propped his sunglasses on his head. His eyes were flat, not sparking with their usual mischief. “You were busy and there wasn’t time. Forgive me.”
