a bad idea.
I looked across the table at Steve, seriously regretting my decision to do my dad this stupid favour. It wasn’t a date. I made that very, very clear to Steve when he messaged me.
Steve. I internally scoffed, taking a sip of my water. What kind of a name was “Steve” anyway? He was everything my dad said he was. Tall. Handsome. Funny. He had light, curly blonde hair, deep brown eyes and a pretty face. He wore a nice, plain suit with no tie. The open collar was a good look on him.
But you know someone who looks better, don’t you?
I shouldn’t feel guilty. I knew that. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. This wasn’t a date. I told him that. I told my dad that. I told myself that.
Yet, as I sat across from Steve in this nice, somewhat fancy restaurant, I couldn’t help but feel guilty anyway. If the situation was reversed—if it was Nikolai sitting here having dinner with another woman—I’d be pissed. No matter what the circumstances were.
I’m such a fucking hypocrite.
When Steve first messaged me, I didn’t even respond. At least, not right away. I ignored it, hoping that if I just pretended I didn’t get it or something, I could just avoid the whole thing.
Then he messaged again, cracking a joke about how he’d never been ghosted by someone he’s never met before. It made me laugh…so I replied.
He asked me to go to lunch (which, if I was being honest, I would have much preferred, because then it didn’t seem so date-y). But I had day shifts at the café with Belinda to complete my training that I absolutely could not say no to. Why? Because all I could afford for dinner the last two nights were fish sticks.
Fish. Sticks.
Making it on your own was hard. If I wasn’t so determined to show not only myself but everyone else that I could do it, I would have caved and used my emergency credit card.
Light chatter, the clink of utensils and the smell of delicious Italian food swirled around me. L’ultima Cena was a beautiful restaurant. It had a loud, fun atmosphere, a cute, rustic vibe, and was entirely owned and operated by La Cosa Nostra. It was one of the reasons why I’d chosen it. It meant that, if I wanted to stab Steve with a fork for being too handsy, I could. The entire place was made up of mafia people, from the waitstaff, to the chefs, to the security guards in the back. It pretty much guaranteed that no one would bat an eye if a little blood was spilled. I wouldn’t even be surprised if most of the other patrons were mafia, too. I recognised a few of Arturo’s soldiers that I’d seen at his house, sitting at the tables when I walked in.
I was pretty sure the whole place was a front, a business they used to funnel their dirty money into and turn it into clean, legal tender. I knew they owned a variety of different businesses for that very reason. The IRS was a bitch.
“So, your dad mentioned you’re a fashion major?” Steve casually flipped through the sleek, black menu in his hands, being nice enough to ignore the awkwardness buzzing between us. We’d been making awkward small talk since the moment we sat down.
We’d covered the basics: our names, ages, a few comments about the weather. You’d think with every question we asked, it would slowly become less uncomfortable…but it didn’t. If anything, it got worse.
“Yeah. Well, almost. My classes haven’t started yet.” There was a moment of silence. “Are you in New York for business? Or just visiting?”
“A little bit of both. My father wants to move to the US, so I’m here doing a little bit of scouting, trying to find a place.”
“Oh. Nice.”
A waiter came over and he ordered a bottle of wine and some appetizers for the table.
“This is a nice place,” he commented, looking around the room. “Have you been here before?”
“No, but I’ve heard good things.” I couldn’t really come out and tell him I’d chosen it so that I could kill him if need be.
He waited, like he was expecting me to say more. When I didn’t, he gave me a friendly smile. “You don’t really want to be here, do you?”
I laughed awkwardly. “Is it that obvious?”
“Kind of,” he laughed along with me and I felt myself start to slowly relax. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you here, if you didn’t want to come?”
“Because my dad is a meddler, and he’s hoping I’ll like you and forget all about my ex.”
“Ah, meddlesome parents. I know a thing or two about those.”
“He means well,” I breathed out. “There’s just a lot of history there. Some of it good, some of it bad.”
The waiter reappeared with the wine and food, placing it down on the table.
“Sounds like he’s just trying to protect you,” he shrugged, popping a slice of bruschetta in his mouth. “I know that, when my sister went through something similar with her ex, my father—” his eyes drifted behind me for a moment and he stiffened, his next words dying off.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, studying him closely.
He cleared his throat, adjusting in his seat. “Everything’s fine.”
“I’d believe that if you didn’t look like you’d just shit your pants or something. What’s going on?”
“I don’t want to alarm you.” He reached over and placed his hand over mine in what I’m sure he intended to be a comforting gesture, but the touch just felt foreign. Wrong. I pulled my hand away instantly and he frowned slightly but continued. “There’s a man behind you that keeps looking over here, and it’s not in a friendly way. Perhaps we should just go somewhere else? There’s something about him that doesn’t seem quite…right.”
What?
I turned around in my seat, my gaze colliding with a set of icy blue eyes that put my whole body on fire. Sitting three tables over, staring straight at us with absolute focus…was Nikolai. He was dressed in a black button-up shirt, the first few buttons open and revealing a beautiful, tanned chest. The edges of the ‘T’ tattooed on his skin peaked out of his shirt, catching my attention like always. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off those thick, muscular forearms I loved so much. My lady bits all but tingled. God, he looked fucking delectable, like darkness and sin all wrapped up in one huge, brawny package.
The restaurant was full of people, full of noise and distractions, and yet it was like we were the only people in the room. Like he couldn’t see anyone else but us.
After giving me a moment to adjust to what I was seeing, Nikolai smirked and gave me a two-finger salute, as casual as you please.
My mind ran rampant. What was he doing there? How did he know I was there? Why did he have to look so fucking good? Why was he just sitting over there, watching us like some sort of creeper?
All questions I planned on asking him then and there.
I turned back to Steve. “You should probably go.” It may already be too late. If Nikolai thought this was a date, there was no doubt in my mind that he’d kill Steve.
“Go?” He scrunched up his face in confusion. “I’m not going to leave you alone, especially when there’s a guy right over there staring at us like he wants to kill us.”
You. Not us. Just you.
“His name is Nikolai. He’s my ex.”
Steve’s eyes widened. He leant forward, lowering his voice. “Is he stalking you?”
Yes, and I like it.
“It’s…complicated.” That was the best thing I could come up with at that moment.
His jaw hardened. “He’s Bratva, isn’t he?” When I didn’t answer, he scoffed. “Of course he is. Bratva guys like him always think they run the world and can do whatever the fuck they want, like harass their ex-girlfriends. This is exactly what happened to my sister. I have half a mind to march over there and—”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“What’s he going to do? It’s not like he’s going to kill me or anything. We’re in a public space, surrounded by people. I highly doubt—” his eyes flicked behind me and widened in shock and fear.
What now?
I glanced over my shoulder and felt the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes. Nikolai had his guns laid out across the table—three of them, by my count—all taken apart and in pieces. He sat there, completely relaxed, cleaning each individual piece while he continued to stare right at Steve, making it clear that although his hands were busy, his mind was not. He was completely and utterly focused on him, doing the work with an almost robotic nature, like he was doing it all on pure muscle memory alone.
Steve had gone as white as the cloth over our table. His whole body was frozen stiff, as if he was too terrified to move. Nikolai had his gaze locked with Steve’s as he cleaned the barrel of one of his guns, pushing the brush inside and out several times before placing it down and reassembling the weapon with practiced ease. The efficiency with which he worked showed how trained he was with the weapons, how skilled he was. That he possessed the ability to shoot anyone in this room right between the eyes without a shred of hesitation.
None of the other patrons in the restaurant paid Nikolai any mind. Neither did the waiter who came over and placed a clear glass of liquid on his table.
“Uh, maybe I should go,” Steve whispered nervously.
I smiled. “I think that would be best.”
“Will he shoot me if I get up?”
Probably.
“It’ll be fine. Just stand when I do and I’ll block his line of sight.”
He nodded, looking a little queasy. I found the whole thing quite hilarious, to be honest. Turns out, Steve was one of those people who was all bark and no bite. The type who liked to act tough, but was nothing of the sort. The type to use whoever was around him as a human shield so he could run in the opposite direction when things got dangerous.
Nikolai would never do that. He’d run towards the danger with a smile on his face.
I put the strap of my handbag over my shoulder and got to my feet. Steve followed, folding himself inwards to try and hide his frame behind mine.
“Maybe we can—”
I shook my head. There was no way in hell I’d ever meet up with this guy again, especially after this.
He looked regretful, indecision flashing in his eyes for a second before reality set back in.
“It was nice meeting you.” He offered me his hand.
I didn’t see the point in false pleasantries, so I said nothing as I stretched my hand out to shake his.
Something smashed, the sound of glass shattering making Steve jump back with a screech before our hands could touch. I looked over my shoulder, seeing a very smug Nikolai looking back at me with the remnants of his now-broken glass on the ground around his chair.
“Really?” I mouthed.
He just shrugged, all innocent like. Nikolai’s possessiveness knew no bounds.
When I turned back around, Steve was gone.
I should have followed him out that door and not rewarded Nikolai’s behaviour with an ounce of the attention I knew he was hoping to receive. There were a thousand different ways he could have handled the situation, and he chose to sit there, watching and intimidating Steve into leaving on his own. The power the man wielded…it was such a damn turn on.
You know you’re going to go over there, so just do it already.
I inwardly sighed. Yes. Yes, I did. The pull towards Nikolai was far too strong for me to even try to fight it. Every part of me wanted to be near him. It was like his presence was a drug, and I was dying for another fix. Itching to just be in his vicinity, to feel the addictive nature of his presence.
Nikolai watched me closely as I made my way over to him. His eyes swept me from head to toe in a slow, heated caress, like a lion sizing up his next meal. The trail of his gaze over my skin set my blood on fire. I felt dizzy from that feral look in his eyes.
I came to a stop opposite him. He finished putting back together his last gun and then stared up at me. Silence reigned between us, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was a building silence, like something big was about to happen between us.
“What are you doing here, Nicky?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. He cocked his head to the side, studying me with a predatory gaze. “I think I should be asking you that question, love.”
My belly did a flip. God, I loved it when he called me that.
“Your little stunt just cost me a free meal.”
He raised a hand and signalled a waiter to come over. The waiter placed a bowl of steaming hot carbonara pasta on the table and walked away. My favourite. He’d planned to have that ready for me. Of course he did.
I arched an eyebrow. “A little presumptuous. You think I’m going to sit down and have dinner with you, after what you just did?”
The chair in front of me slid out after he kicked it underneath the table. His eyes flicked to it and back to me, telling—no, demanding—that I take a seat. He said nothing. He just stared at me, waiting me out. The sexual tension between us continued to build with each passing second.
“Sit,” he commanded, voice rough. Dark and dangerous.
I sat down.
He nodded, satisfied, and pushed his guns to the side. Another waiter appeared, dropping a meal in front of him before he quickly cleaned up the glass on the floor and disappeared.
“How did you know I was here?” I asked, digging into my food. I almost moaned. It was creamy and delicious.
He pulled out a phone and placed it on the table. I frowned. “That’s not your phone.” He unlocked it and my frown deepened. That was my screen saver. It was a photo of me and my dad. I dug into my handbag and withdrew my phone, placing it down right next to that one. They were identical, right down to the placement of the apps and the setting themes.
What the fuck?
I picked up his and flicked through it quickly, realisation hitting me like a ton of bricks. “You cloned my phone?”
Sure enough, when I went into the messages, right there on the screen where the few texts Steve and I had exchanged. The where and when to meet up. Everything I did on my phone would show up on that one. Everything.
“You sound surprised,” he said casually, taking a small bite of his risotto. “But are you, really?”
I ignored that, because no, I wasn’t overly surprised. It was right on par with Nikolai, actually. “When did you do this?”
“You disappeared after Nikolas died, and I couldn’t find you. I vowed that would never happen again, so when you finally came back, I took your phone and cloned it, so I would always know where you are. You might as well know there’s a tracker in there too.” He didn’t know that I didn’t disappear. Not really. I just hid out at my dad’s house and he assumed I went running as far away as I could get, when in reality, I was right there. Under his nose.
I should probably be mad at this huge invasion of privacy. He was essentially monitoring everything I was doing. At any time, day or night, he could just look at this and find out what I was up to. I should have been mad. Stark raving mad. A normal woman would be. But I wasn’t. Because it was exactly something that was classic Nikolai. I already knew he was uber possessive and had zero boundaries. That when it came to those he cared about, he would do anything and everything to keep them safe—including invading their privacy.
I continued to eat my pasta. “So, you saw the texts between Steve and I and just decided to show up here?”
“You think you can go on a date with another man and I’d just allow it?” He took a sip of his wine, his Adams apple working up and down as he swallowed the liquid. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Tati, I thought you knew me better than that.”
“It wasn’t a date. I was just doing my dad a favour.”
“Oh, I know all about that.” Of course he did. Despite Illayana not talking to me, I still texted her and told her about the stupid favour my dad asked of me. She hadn’t responded, but that didn’t stop me from messaging her again and again anyway. Nikolai must have seen those texts. “And I’m going to deal with Ivan.”
My whole body stiffened. “What?”
He stared me dead in the eyes, his gaze never wavering. “You heard me.”
I dropped my knife and fork. “Nikolai,” I growled. “Don’t you dare do whatever it is you’re thinking about doing. I will never forgive you.”
“I’m not going to kill him.” I relaxed at his words. “But I am going to punish him. You’re mine. I don’t care what he says or how he feels about it. He tried to set you up with another man. For that, he. Will. Be. Punished.”
I recognised that look on his face. I could hear the finality in his words. Nothing I said would change his mind, but perhaps my actions would.
I channelled all the rage I felt towards him into the angriest scowl I could muster as I got to my feet. He had the right mind to look a little uneasy. Good.
Words didn’t work with Nikolai. Actions did. He needed to see what would happen if he went through with whatever he was thinking about doing.
Without another word, I marched away.
