30. Kat

Chapter 30

Kat

The feel of Nik’s hands on my skin is exactly what I need tonight.

His callused palm brushes against mine as he helps me out of the sleek black limousine. The warmth of his touch makes my heart race, and for a moment, I almost forget the possibility of him being here tonight.

Almost.

As the don of the Italian family, Giuseppe Salvatore—the man I unaffectionately call the stronzo —could very well be at this party. The thought of facing him while Nik is close by sends a chill down my spine.

Nik notices immediately. “Are you cold? You should’ve worn something that actually covers you, kiska ,” he says, already shrugging out of his suit jacket.

I stop him with a quick smile. “I’m fine. Beauty is pain.”

He’s not wrong. My backless pink silk dress may be gorgeous, but it’s utterly impractical in this sharp coastal breeze. Still, I stop him before he can drape his jacket over my shoulders. I need to stay sharp tonight, and seeing him undress—even slightly—would make that impossible.

He leans closer, his voice a low rasp against my ear. “Then you must be in constant agony.”

I laugh, my nerves easing just a little. “You silver-tongued devil. Do you shamelessly flirt with all the women working for you, or am I just lucky?”

“Oh, you’re lucky,” he murmurs, his hands sliding to my waist and pulling me closer. “You’ve got no idea how lucky you are. Let me show you.”

He pulls my hips tightly against his, and the hard bulge I feel against my stomach teals my breath. I gasp, heat rushing through me as his smirk deepens.

Shimmying against him, I’m about to toss out a flirty comeback when our host cuts in.

“Nikolai! Kat!” Patrick McGuire calls out, striding down the steps with a wide grin. “Great to see you both. I’m so glad you could make it.”

“McGuire,” Nik says coolly, shaking the man’s hand.

Patrick turns to me, his smile widening as he takes my hand and kisses it—over the top and clearly for show. Nik tenses beside me, his shoulders going rigid.

“Kat,” McGuire says, holding my gaze a little too long. “Welcome to my home.”

“Thanks, Patrick,” I say, letting my lips curve into an easy smile. “Beautiful place you’ve got here.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he says with a laugh. “I’d love to show you around later. But first, Nikolai, you have to see my new yacht. I’m guessing you haven’t had the pleasure yet?”

“Not yet,” Nik says dryly.

“Well, you’re in for a treat. Kat, would you like to come with us?” Patrick asks, throwing a glance my way.

“With these heels?” I scoff, gesturing to my four-inch stilettos. “You two have fun. I’ll find myself a drink.”

“You sure?” McGuire asks, a polite frown creasing his face.

“Positive. Go ahead.” I wave them off and head toward the house.

McGuire moves ahead, but Nik lingers, leaning down close enough that his breath brushes my ear. “I’ll be right back. Vladmir’s inside. If anything happens, call me.”

I glance up at him, raising a brow. “I don’t have your number.”

He presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. “Yes, you do. Check your phone. I saved it before I gave it back to you.”

I wasn’t lying about not wanting to risk breaking my neck on a boat in these heels. But the real reason I stayed behind has nothing to do with my shoes. If I’m going to have the misfortune of running into that stronzo , I’d rather face him alone—away from Nik’s watchful eyes.

As I make my way through the lavishly decorated house, I keep scanning for him or any of his men. But there’s no sign of the Italian or his entourage. So I head toward the bar, weaving through clusters of people until I spot the polished counter.

“A martini, please,” I tell the bartender, sliding onto a stool. “Extra dirty.”

He nods and gets to work. While waiting, I discreetly scan the room again, my eyes flicking over the guests and shadows for any familiar faces. I’m mid-scan when Vladmir settles onto the stool beside me.

“There you are,” he grunts, with the same gruffness that seems to be his trademark.

“Here I am,” I reply lightly. “Didn’t know you were looking for me.”

“Nikolai told me to keep an eye on you until he’s back,” he says, his tone as curt as ever.

“Oh. I see. Sorry about that.” I keep my tone casual.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks, frowning slightly, his confusion obvious.

I shrug. “I’m just sorry you got stuck with babysitting duty because of me. Nik can be… a little over-the-top sometimes.”

He glares at me, his frown deepening. “He’s the boss. It’s not up to me—or you—to question him. Orders are orders.”

I blink at him. It’s probably the longest sentence I’ve ever heard him say. It’s obvious he doesn’t like me, and honestly? The feeling’s mutual.

“Right,” I say, finally breaking the silence. “Sorry about that, I guess.” I flash a smile at the bartender as he sets my drink in front of me. Beside me, Vladmir nurses a glass of clear liquor—vodka, no doubt.

I wait, expecting him to say something else, but he doesn’t. It’s clear small talk isn’t on his agenda.

“So,” I say, breaking the awkward silence as I take a sip of my martini, “I assume you’ve worked for Nik a long time.”

“Yes.”

That’s it. Nothing more. I wait a beat for him to elaborate, but of course, he doesn’t. Classic Vladmir.

“That’s nice. You must know him pretty well.”

He doesn’t bother responding, just arches a single brow before staring blankly ahead, as if I’m not worth the effort.

I sigh. “I’ll take that as a yes. Did you know Maxim well, too?”

That question gets a reaction. His eyes narrow, and his tone turns razor-sharp. “I’m not here to make small talk with you.”

“Aw, come on, Vlad. It’s just an innocent question. I’m trying to kill time while we wait for Nik. No need to get all worked up about it.”

“Nikolai ordered me to keep you safe, not indulge your pointless gossip,” he snaps.

“Who said anything about gossip? I’m just curious about Maxim. He is the reason I’m here, after all.”

“No,” he says bluntly, taking a swig of his drink. “You’re here because you’re a shameless thief.”

“Wow,” I say, giving him a slow blink. “You really don’t like me, do you?”

“My opinion of you doesn’t matter,” he says coldly. “I’m here to keep you out of trouble—not to like you or talk to you.”

“It’s fine, Vlad. You can say it. You won’t hurt my feelings. I’m not your biggest fan either.” I flash him a wink.

“Do not call me Vlad,” he growls.

“Sure thing, Vlad,” I say with an exaggerated sigh, earning myself another glare.

We sit in silence after that. He’s clearly not interested in making conversation, but I’m not ready to let it go. Nik’s focus on McGuire feels too narrow to me. If we’re going to figure out what really happened to Maxim, we need more information—and Vladmir was there that night.

Besides, I’m curious to hear someone else’s take on Maxim. Nik’s opinion of the man is anything but unbiased.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, I come to terms with the obvious—Vladmir is far too stoic and no-nonsense to fall for my usual bullshit. With someone like him, a direct approach is the only way to get anywhere.

“Okay, fine. I’ll cut the crap,” I say, leaning in slightly. “Whether you admit it or not, we’re on the same team here.”

Vladmir shoots me a look like I’ve completely lost it, but I don’t let it get to me.

“No, really,” I insist. “You know why I’m here. Nik wants my help catching McGuire. He’s completely convinced McGuire is behind Maxim’s murder. Surely you have some thoughts on that.”

He shrugs and takes another slow sip of his drink. “It’s not my place to question Nikolai’s decisions.”

“Right,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You’re just here to follow orders. I get it. But there’s no way you don’t have an opinion on this. Do you think McGuire did it?”

His jaw tightens, his teeth grinding audibly. “Even you have to realize this is neither the time nor the place for this conversation.”

“Oh, come on,” I scoff, gesturing to the boisterous crowd around us. “No one’s paying attention to us in this chaos. You can speak freely.”

He exhales sharply, clearly weighing his options. He knows I won’t let it go, and he can’t walk away without defying Nik’s orders to keep an eye on me. Finally, he mutters, “It’s good enough for me that Nikolai thinks McGuire did it.”

“Well, you’re loyal. I’ll give you that,” I sigh, sipping my martini.

It’s clear that’s all I’m going to get out of him on this subject. But just because he won’t openly disagree with Nik’s judgment doesn’t mean I can’t steer the conversation elsewhere.

“What about Maxim?” I ask, dropping any pretense of subtlety.

His irritation is palpable, practically rolling off him in waves. “What about him?” he grunts, his tone clipped.

“You knew him, right? I didn’t. I just want to hear what he was really like. Nik, understandably, talks about Maxim like he was a saint. But I’m sure there’s more to the story, and I’d like to hear your perspective.”

He stays quiet for way too long, staring at his drink like it holds all the answers. The guy has mastered the art of brooding. Finally, he mutters, “I want to make something clear. I don’t speak ill of the dead.”

Interesting. “Of course not,” I reply casually.

He doesn’t look at me. “I’ll just say this—Maxim was a lot of things, but a saint wasn’t one of them.”

“Are we talking about McGuire’s daughter?” I ask, lowering my voice as I glance over my shoulder, making sure no one’s within earshot.

His head snaps toward me, eyes blazing. “Watch your mouth,” he growls. “Just let the son of a bitch rest in peace, will you? And leave me the fuck alone while you’re at it.”

“Son of a bitch, huh?” I press, undeterred. “Doesn’t sound like you were his biggest fan. Come on, Vlad, what’s the story? Bet it’s a good one.”

“Mind your fucking business,” he snaps, his tone sharper now. “And stop calling me Vlad.”

“What’s the matter, Vlad?” I say, leaning closer. “Did I hit a nerve? Must be rough, being loyal to a guy who’d risk your neck avenging someone you couldn’t stand.”

I know I’m pushing it, but if I’m lucky, he’ll slip up and give me something—anything—about whatever bad blood was between him and Maxim.

What I don’t expect is the extent of his anger.

Before I can process what’s happening, Vladmir grabs me by the shoulders and yanks me off the stool like I’m a rag doll. My feet dangle in the air, and my stomach drops.

“Why are you so fucking nosy?” he snarls, his face an inch from mine. He shakes me hard enough that my teeth clatter, his fingers digging painfully into my arms. Bruises—there’ll definitely be bruises. “You ask too many goddamn questions. Especially for a thief.”

“Put me down,” I snap, trying not to sound as rattled as I feel.

“Want to know how I felt about Maxim?” he growls, his grip tightening on my shoulders. “Fine, I’ll tell you. He was a lucky asshole, plain and simple. His whole life, he was always in the right place at the right time. That’s how he got everything— everything . He didn’t deserve to be second-in-command. He didn’t earn it. He never earned a damn thing in his miserable life. And whatever wasn’t handed to him? He just took it.”

His voice drops, colder now. “Like Erin McGuire. Maxim cuckolded Lorenzo like it was nothing, like he was entitled to my friend’s fiancée. That’s who Maxim was. And if you don’t watch your mouth, you might just get to meet him yourself real soon.”

His green eyes burn with pure hatred, and I know he’s not bluffing.

Before I can respond, Nik’s voice cuts through the air, dripping with pure, murderous rage. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You have two seconds to let her go, or you won’t leave this room alive. Touch her again, and I’ll make you wish you were never born.”