25. Kat

Chapter 25

Kat

The last light of the sunset fades as Nik and I step out of the car onto the sweeping stone steps of an opulent mansion. My first thought: being an accountant for two mafia bosses clearly pays very well.

As we step inside, a dark-haired man in his early thirties greets us with an easy grin. “Nikolai! You actually came.”

Nik shakes his hand with practiced ease, his other hand resting firmly at the small of my back. “John,” he says, his tone warm—for Nik, anyway. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

John laughs, throwing his head back. “Oh, come on. Yes, you would. Don’t even pretend. I know you better than that.”

Nik shrugs, the ghost of a real smile tugging at his lips. “John, this is Kat Devereaux. Kat, meet John Gates.”

John’s grin widens as he turns his attention to me, offering his hand. “Welcome, Kat. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” I say, shaking his hand. My gaze sweeps over the gorgeous foyer, every inch gleaming with understated elegance. “You have a beautiful home.”

John chuckles modestly. “All credit goes to my fiancée, Sheila. She’s got an eye for this kind of thing.” He winks. “Make yourselves at home. I’ll bring her over to meet you once I track her down.”

I smile politely at John before Nik steers me away, his hand firm at my back. My heels click softly against the pale gray marble as we move toward the adjoining room, where John and Sheila’s guests have gathered.

The space is striking, with floor-to-ceiling glass walls that frame a beautifully manicured garden and a shimmering pool, both bathed in the soft glow of the full moon. We linger near the entrance, taking it all in. The low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses fills the air as Nik scans the room, his expression lined with impatience.

A server passes by, and Nik plucks two champagne flutes from the tray. He hands one to me, his expression unreadable. “Stay here. I’ll be back,” he says before walking away without another word.

I watch as he strides toward a stunning brunette standing alone by the bar. Her posture stiffens the moment she notices him approaching, her soft curls shifting slightly as she straightens her shoulders.

They exchange a few words I can’t make out. She fidgets with the sleeve of her wine-colored velvet dress, her fingers brushing the fabric n an obvious effort to steady herself. Nik leans in, speaking low, and her lips barely move in response. Then, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small box, placing it gently in her hands.

The woman stares at the box for a long moment before her gaze shifts to Nik, full of questions he doesn’t answer. Slowly, she opens the lid, her delicate fingers trembling as she pulls out a gold ring. Her mouth parts, and she blinks rapidly, her grip tightening around the ring like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

Nik gives her a short nod, then turns and walks back toward me, his long strides as composed as ever.

My eyes dart between him and the woman still standing at the bar, my concern spiking as I catch her brushing away tears. She clutches the ring my Russian gave her tightly, staring at it with the kind of reverence usually reserved for something sacred.

Nik reaches me and slips his arm around my waist, his tone casual as if nothing happened. “Are you hungry? Because I’m starving. God, I hate these fucking parties. Endless champagne, tiny canapés, but not a single decent meal to be found.”

He nods politely to someone across the room, but I can’t even pretend to care. I’m too stunned to care about anything but the scene I just witnessed.

“What the hell was that?” I demand, my voice sharper than I intended.

Nik raises an eyebrow, genuinely perplexed. “What the hell was what?”

“That,” I say, hissing the word as I nod toward the brunette still rooted near the bar. “What the hell just happened over there?”

"Oh,” he says, a faint hint of relief creeping into his tone. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Oh, no. Don’t give me that. You have to tell me what the hell I just saw.”

“It’s nothing. Really, Kat?—”

“I'm not going to drop this,” I interrupt, crossing my arms. “So you might as well save us both some time and just tell me.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes like he’s summoning every ounce of patience he has left. After a long sigh, he finally says, “If you really must know, that was Erin.”

“Erin?” I repeat, blinking in disbelief. “As in Erin McGuire? Maxim’s lover? Daughter of your arch-nemesis?”

“Shh.” His eyes narrow as he glances around, voice low and teeth clenched. “Yes, that Erin. And for fuck's sake, would you keep your voice down?”

“Wow,” I mutter, momentarily stunned. After a beat, I press, “What did you give her?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I mean, I saw it was a ring. But why would you give Erin McGuire a gold ring?”

His jaw ticks. “What part of ‘this is none of your business’ don’t you understand?”

“What part of ‘I’m not going to drop this’ don’t you understand?”

Nik exhales loudly, muttering something sharp in Russian under his breath.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, may God deliver me from nosy women who can’t mind their own fucking business.”

“Cute,” I say, matching his glare as I cross my arms tighter. “Hey, if you won’t tell me, maybe I’ll just go ask her myself.”

His hand shoots out, grabbing my arm in a firm—but not painful—grip. “I don’t think so,” he growls, his voice dangerously low. “Did nobody ever tell you about curiosity killing the cat?”

“Ha-ha,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I get it. Because my name’s Kat. Like I’ve never heard that one before. Now spill, or I’ll cause a scene.”

Nik leans in close, his voice a low, restrained growl. “Once upon a time, Maxim and Erin had the ridiculous idea of running away together. He proposed to her with the ring you just saw. Before they could escape, word of their affair got out. McGuire whisked her off to Ireland, and I had no choice but to send Maxim to Russia. Somehow, Erin got the ring back to him, and he held onto it all the years he was in exile. After his death, I found it among his belongings. I figured he’d have wanted her to have it.”

I stare at him, stunned, before my gaze flicks to Erin across the room. She’s still clutching the ring like it’s a piece of her heart. A pang of heartbreak hits me as I watch her—so young, so beautiful, so weighed down by love and loss that can never be resolved.

Before I can say anything, Nik’s grip on my arm tightens, almost painfully. His entire body goes rigid, his attention snapping to something—or someone—just out of my view. A moment later, he forces himself to relax, his arm snaking around my back, his hand resting possessively on my stomach.

The abrupt shift in his demeanor sends a shiver down my spine. Then I see him—a distinguished middle-aged man cutting through the crowd toward us, an insincere smile twisting his lips. Recognition dawns immediately. Patrick McGuire. The man from the surveillance footage. Nik’s enemy.

“Nikolai,” McGuire says smoothly, his lilting Irish accent a grating mix of charm and menace.

Nik gives him a curt nod. “Patrick.”

“I thought that was you across the room,” McGuire continues, his voice laced with false warmth. “I wanted to come over and pay my respects. I was so terribly sorry to hear about Maxim. What a pity.” His head tilts slightly, the hollow smile on his face never reaching his eyes.

Nik only stares at him, his expression impassive, but McGuire either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore the coldness emanating from him.

“And the whole thing with his missing remains, too. Such a disgrace, wouldn’t you say?” McGuire adds, his tone dripping with feigned sympathy.

“I appreciate the sentiment, McGuire,” Nik replies at last, his tone clipped but polite. Then, with a casualness that feels anything but, he adds, “Let me introduce you to my fiancée, Katherine Devereaux. Kat, this is Patrick McGuire.”

McGuire’s eyebrows shoot up, nearly vanishing into his hairline as he gives me a once-over, his sharp eyes lingering a little too long.

Fiancée ? The word slams into me like a freight train. Thanks for the heads-up, Nik . Schooling my features into a polite smile, I take McGuire’s offered hand gingerly.

“Fiancée?” he repeats, his smile widening, all charm and curiosity. “Well, this is a surprise. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kat.”

“Likewise,” I reply smoothly, leaning into Nik’s side for effect. His hand shifts slightly, sliding over my stomach in a gesture so possessive it almost feels like a warning. McGuire’s sharp gaze doesn’t miss a beat.

“And how long have you two been seeing each other?” he asks, his tone casual, but I can hear the undercurrent of intrigue.

“Oh, not long,” I say, letting out a soft laugh. “It’s been a bit of a whirlwind romance.”

“What can I say?” Nik cuts in, shrugging one broad shoulder, his voice effortlessly smooth. “When you know, you know.”

I glance up at Nik and find him already watching me, his dark eyes burning with the same intensity they held the night we met. The heat in his gaze pulls me closer, and I instinctively press my body against his. His arm tightens around my waist, sending an unmistakable message to anyone watching.

McGuire chuckles, his curiosity clearly piqued. “Well, I’ll take your word for it. But Kat, you must share a little about yourself. I’m dying to know more about the woman who’s managed to melt Nikolai’s famously cold heart.”

Turning my attention to him, I catch his eyes sparkling with open interest. They dart to Nik’s hand resting firmly on me, as if every detail of our interaction is another puzzle piece for him to study.

Smiling, I ask, “What would you like to know? I’m afraid I’m not nearly as fascinating as you gentlemen.”

McGuire lets out a sharp laugh, a bit too loud to be genuine. “Oh, I doubt that. Are you from around here?”

“I am,” I answer simply.

“And where did you two meet?” he asks, leaning in slightly.

I glance at Nik, sharing a look that implies the answer is an inside joke McGuire wouldn’t understand. “I guess you could say we met at work. Well, I was working, at least.”

Nik scoffs quietly, and McGuire’s interest sharpens even further.

“Fascinating. And what did you say you do for a living?” McGuire presses.

“I didn’t,” I reply breezily. “But if you really want to know, I guess you could call it acquisitions and procurement.” I add a light giggle, the playful edge in my tone deliberate.

Nik laughs under his breath, leaning down to press a quick kiss to my hair. McGuire watches us closely, practically buzzing with restrained curiosity.

“I can see why Nikolai is so taken with you, Kat,” he says smoothly. “Tell me, would you do me the honor of a dance? That is, of course, if Nikolai doesn’t mind.”

I glance at Nik, raising an eyebrow in question. His response is a cold yet impeccably polite smile that never quite reaches his eyes. “Not at all,” he says evenly. Then, meeting my gaze with deliberate intensity, he adds, “Kat knows to save the last dance for me.”

I smile teasingly at Nik, rising onto my toes. “Don’t worry, baby. I know exactly who I’m going home with tonight.” I brush a quick kiss against his lips, but he surprises me by pulling me closer and claiming my mouth in a hard, lingering kiss that leaves no room for doubt—or breath.

By the time he lets me go, I’m left slightly unsteady, unsure how much of that was for McGuire’s benefit and how much was something else entirely. Still, I manage a sweet smile for Nik before turning to take McGuire’s offered hand. He leads me to a small dance floor where a handful of couples sway to the music. As he pulls me into his arms as the song begins, his behavior surprisingly respectful. I’d half-expected him to hold me too tightly or let his hands wander, but instead, he behaves like a perfect gentleman.

McGuire chuckles softly. “Your Russian is staring daggers at me. Not that it's unusual—he’s done it before—but seeing him this worked up over a woman? Now that's a first.”

I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, Nik's gaze is locked on us, dark and intense. I can’t quite tell how much of his display is calculated for McGuire’s benefit and how much is genuine jealousy. Nik might like to pretend he’s indifferent to me, but I know better. That said, nothing matters more to him than taking down the man I’m dancing with.

“He’s just protective,” I say, my tone light but pointed. With any luck, he’ll catch the hint that Nik might not handle it well if I were harmed.

“Protective, huh?” McGuire’s lips curve into a small smirk. “I can’t blame him. If I were in his shoes, I’d be just as protective of someone as stunning as you.”

I laugh softly, pretending to be charmed. “Oh, I’m sure you have plenty of stunning women vying for your attention. Far more beautiful than me.”

“I don’t know about that.” He tilts his head, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I’ll give Nikolai credit for this—he has an unrivaled eye for beauty.”

“Oh, stop.” I let out a playful laugh, gently shoving at his chest. He responds by pulling me a fraction closer, his hands still respectful but firmly gripping my body. It takes years of practice and control not to grimace at the gesture, but I keep my smile in place. After all, the dance is only beginning.

“I’m sure this is nothing new to you. Heartbreakingly beautiful women always know their power and aren’t afraid to wield it.”

“I’ll plead the fifth on that,” I reply, a hint of teasing in my tone.

McGuire chuckles, though there’s a subtle darkness to it. “I have to say, you seem familiar. Are you sure we’ve never met?”

I shake my head, letting my lips curve into a small smile. “I’m positive we haven’t. I’d definitely remember meeting someone as handsome as you.”

His laugh is softer this time, edged with something unspoken. “Careful, Kat, or I’ll start thinking you’re encouraging an old man’s crush.”

I shrug, feigning innocence. “What can I say? Old habits die hard. But let's keep this little back-and-forth between ourselves. Wouldn’t want Nik to get the wrong idea.”

“No, of course not,” McGuire replies smoothly, leaning closer as his voice drops. “Speaking of him, here comes your knight in shining armor.”

I turn and almost collide with Nik’s chest. He wasted no time cutting across the room as soon as the song ended.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Nik says, his voice cold and clipped. “Your dance is over, McGuire.”

McGuire chuckles, unfazed. “Right. Kat, it’s truly been a pleasure. I hope we cross paths again soon.” He lifts my hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “And now, Nikolai, she’s all yours.”

Nik’s response is a glance sharp enough to cut. His tone is arctic as he says, “For once in your life, you are absolutely right.” Without waiting for a response, he wraps his arm firmly around my waist and leads me away.

When we’re a safe distance from the dance floor, I lean closer, keeping my voice low. “What are you doing? I was just getting started. Then again, maybe it’s smart to leave him wanting more. You were right, by the way. He couldn’t help himself. The man was practically falling over himself to charm me away from you. I’ll have him eating out of the palm of my hand in no time. Oh, and the jealous boyfriend act? Flawless. He totally bought it.”

“Fiancé,” Nik growls through gritted teeth, his tone laced with barely restrained irritation.

“What?”

“I’m your fiancé, not your fucking boyfriend,” he snaps, his grip tightening almost painfully.

“Right. That’s what I meant. Great job. But I wish you hadn’t surprised me with that. A little heads-up would’ve been nice, boss.”

Nik mutters something unintelligible under his breath, his jaw tightening. He quickens his pace, his grip on my arm firm and unrelenting as he practically drags me through the entrance foyer.

“Where are we going?” I ask, breathless as I try to keep up with his long, purposeful strides.

“Home,” he snaps, his voice leaving no room for debate.

“But we just got here!” I protest, stumbling slightly in my heels.

“We did what we came to do. Now we’re leaving.”

“But I didn’t even say hello to Sheila!”

Nik shoots me a perplexed glare, as if I’ve completely lost my mind. “Who the fuck is Sheila?”

“John’s fiancée,” I reply, giving him a look that suggests he’s the one who’s lost it.

“Fuck John. And fuck Sheila, too,” he says, his voice eerily calm—the kind of calm that’s far scarier than any outburst.

He yanks the front door open and drags me outside with no regard for subtlety. His grip doesn’t waver as he marches us toward the driveway, where his sleek black limousine pulls up moments later.

The driver scrambles out immediately, but Nik waves him off with an impatient gesture. Without a word, he opens the door himself and motions for me to get in. I stand my ground.

“What’s your problem?” I demand, my frustration bubbling over.

“Kat,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, a clear warning to tread carefully, “Get in the car.”

“Not until you tell me what the hell is wrong with you. I did everything you asked!”

“Oh, I know you did,” he says, his voice rising, the cracks in his composure showing. “Trust me, I’m so fucking aware you did everything I asked.”

“Then what’s your problem?” I snap back, matching his intensity head-on. “What else do you want?”

In one swift move, he pulls me flush against him, his forehead pressing against mine as his voice drops to a deadly whisper. His dark eyes burn into mine as he rasps, “I want you not to go within a mile of that bastard ever again. I want to break every finger on his disgusting hands—over and over—until he learns to keep them off you. I want you to never smile at anyone but me the way you smiled at him tonight. But what I really want”—his voice dips, laced with madness—“is to bend you over and fuck you into submission until you accept you belong to me.”

My heart hammers against my ribs, my breath coming in erratic pants, but I refuse to look away. I tilt my chin up defiantly, meeting his gaze head-on as I correct him. “No. What you really want is me .”

His deep brown eyes darken further, his lips parting as if to argue. Every inch of him coiled with tension and challenge. But then, as if something snaps inside him, his expression shifts, and he exhales a shaky breath.

“God help me,” he murmurs, his voice raw, “I do.”

His admission lands like a blow, knocking the wind out of both of us. But I don’t falter. Holding his gaze, I say, “Then fucking have me.”

Before I can fully process what’s happening, he yanks the limousine door open, his hand tightening possessively on my arm as he drags me inside.