43. Nik

Chapter 43

Nik

Dmitri’s voice greets me the moment I step into my dark office. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

I flip the light switch, squinting as the overhead glare reveals him lounging lazily in my chair, his overpriced Italian shoes boldly propped up on my desk.

“Hiya, Nik. So good of you to join us hardworking men this fine morning. Or is it afternoon? Did you sleep well?” His smirk is pure insolence.

I sigh, already irritated by his antics. “It’s becoming abundantly clear your saint of a mother—God rest her soul—must’ve dropped you on your head a few times as a child. It’s the only explanation for your complete lack of self-preservation.”

He grins wider, clearly unfazed. “Where’s your better half, Romeo?” he asks, still comfortably occupying my seat like he owns the place.

I step forward, pinning him with a cold stare. “If you don’t get out of my chair in the next five seconds, you’ll never get to know.”

With a mockingly slow stretch, he finally stands, completely unfazed. “I expected you to be in a much better mood after spending the entire night—and most of the morning—in your little kiska’s arms,” he says, taking his sweet time moving to one of the guest chairs.

“Dmitri,” I say, dropping heavily into my rightful seat. “One of these days, you’re going to push me too far. And trust me, you won’t like what happens then.”

He shrugs, utterly unbothered. “Maybe I like to live dangerously.”

I shake my head, glaring at him. “For your own sake, I hope you haven’t spent the morning twiddling your thumbs. Tell me you have something new to report.”

“Of course. Once we’re done talking about the actual important stuff . Come on, Nik. I’ve been waiting all day. Don’t leave me hanging now. I’m too invested in your romantic life. Are you going to make me beg?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but if you must know, I spent the night with Kat, yes. Now that we got that out of the way, about McGuire?—”

Dmitri chuckles, incredulous. “Hang on. You can’t just leave it at that.”

I sigh, realizing I won’t get anywhere with him until I give him what he wants. Might as well indulge him. “What can I say, Dmitri? It was… perfect. Everything just… clicked into place, I guess.”

“And…?” He leans forward, eyes lit with anticipation, hanging on my every word.

I take a deep breath, feeling absurdly self-conscious. “And I’ve never met anyone like her. Obviously, she’s incredibly charming and attractive. That goes without saying. And it’s no secret to you—or anyone else—that she drives me crazy. Half the time, I don’t know whether I want to throttle or kiss her.”

Dmitri grins, and I glare at him before continuing.

“But there’s something about her—this way she gets under my skin, like no one else ever has. And the truth is, no matter what I do, I can’t seem to shake her. Honestly, I’m not even sure I ever actually wanted to.”

For once, Dmitri is quiet, an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression on his face. Then he whistles, slow and low. “Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “Damn. She’s the one, isn’t she? I knew it. There was just something different about the way you were obsessing over her.”

“Well, to be fair, she did steal the Flame of Mir. And I don’t know about your word choice here. Obsessing sounds a little dramatic?—"

“What else should I call it? Let’s face it—you're always so... emotional around her,” he adds with an apologetic shrug, as if the word emotional might offend me.

I laugh despite myself. “Fine. I see your point. You’re not wrong. She certainly made an impression on me from the beginning. And she does get to me in ways no one else ever has. I guess… last night was just us finally being on the same page. Right place, right time, and all that.”

He shakes his head theatrically, his grin widening. “I can’t believe my eyes and ears. I never thought this day would come. Nikolai Stefanovich is taken.”

“Okay, okay,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Don’t push it, Dmitri. Now that our little heart-to-heart is over, why don’t you tell me all about how productively you’ve spent this morning chasing after McGuire?”

Still smiling, he launches into a report of last night’s and this morning’s developments in our search for the Irish family boss. His tone is professional enough, but his smirk lingers, as if the conversation about Kat is still his favorite highlight of the day.

He's interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I say.

Kat enters the room, and just like that, any coherent thought I had vanishes. Her smile is a sucker punch to my chest, and I swear my heart does something I can only describe as a somersault.

She’s dressed in a black slip dress that hugs her every curve, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She narrows her eyes at me, mock accusation lighting up her face.

“You promised me food. Croissants, you said. And orange juice.”

“My word is my bond,” I say, standing from my chair. “Whatever my Kat wants, she gets.”

“Empty promises,” she teases, crossing her arms. “Do you know what else is empty, kotyonok ? My stomach.” She sighs dramatically before her gaze shifts to Dmitri. “Oh, hello, Dmitri. Nice to see you in one piece.”

“Hiya, Kat. I told you I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself,” he replies with a wink.

Normally, his brazen flirting would irritate me, but not today. Not after last night. Instead, I find myself grinning at Kat’s new pet name for me.

I step around the desk, grabbing her hand. “Let’s go. I have a reputation to protect. I can’t have you thinking I’m not a man of my word.”

“Chop-chop, then, mister. Lead the way,” she says, her smile playful.

In the kitchen, Kat’s over-the-top reaction to the baked goods she demanded has me laughing, even as a strange warmth blooms inside me.

She sighs dramatically, kissing my cheek with exaggerated enthusiasm. “You’re a prince among men. No—a king.”

I smirk, pouring coffee for both of us. “Do me a favor and bring this same energy tonight.”

She rolls her eyes, laughing as she takes her coffee. “Well, it is true that good food and drink are the way to my heart.”

“Noted,” I say, leaning casually against the counter. “From now on, nothing but caviar and champagne for you, then. If I’d known it was that easy…”

“Cute,” she says, chuckling. “Though let’s be real—when it comes to you, I’ve been pretty easy.”

I scoff. “You can’t be serious.”

"It's true." She shrugs, taking a bite of her croissant. “But I’ll have you know, I'm easy, but not that easy. You’re going to have to work for it.”

I lean in, brushing a quick kiss over her lush lips. “Of that, I have no doubts. Now eat your food. You’re going to want your energy later.”

Her lips curve into a dangerously tempting smile, one that has me straining against the zipper of my pants—not even a full hour after spilling myself inside her.

“Well,” she says, her tone as smooth as silk. “You certainly talk the talk. But will you walk the walk? I wonder…”

I lean forward, narrowing my eyes. “That sounds a lot like a challenge,” I murmur. “Make my day, kiska . Call my bluff.”

She smirks, eyes glinting with mischief. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Fuck around and find out.”

Her laugh bubbles up, light and carefree, as she loops a finger around the collar of my shirt and draws me close enough for a teasing kiss on my lips.

The sound of her laughter—bright, unrestrained—warms me to my bones, but it does nothing to ease the tension pooling low in my gut.

“I’ll never finish this meal if you keep teasing me,” she says, playfully shaking her head. “And trust me, you do not want to see me hangry. So, please, try not to be so irresistible for just a moment, okay? Let me get through at least two bites of this croissant without wanting to steal a kiss from you.”

“I don’t know why you’d feel the need to steal something I’m dying to give you,” I reply with a smirk.

She sighs, glaring pointedly at me. “This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

I laugh, raising my hands in surrender. “Fine. My lips are sealed. Not another word until you’re done eating.”

“Thank you,” she says sweetly, though there’s a glint of mischief in her eyes as she slathers an obscene amount of butter onto her already buttery croissant.

A moment later, her expression shifts into pure bliss. “Mmm,” she moans, her eyes fluttering shut as if the pastry were performing miracles.

I shift in my seat, trying to discreetly adjust myself as my jeans grow increasingly uncomfortable.

“I swear,” she continues, completely oblivious to my plight, “there’s nothing better than a fresh croissant. Honestly, it’s probably better than drugs. Maybe even better than sex.”

“Is that right?” I ask, arching a brow.

She opens her eyes, a playful sparkle in them. “I said maybe. Obviously, I was referring to inferior, underwhelming sex. You know, the kind I’d have with anyone but you.”

“If you think talking about sex with other men is going to appease me, you’re about to be sorely disappointed.”

She sighs dramatically, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my cheek. “I just love it when you get all jealous. I could watch you throw these little fits all day long.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” I warn, my voice dropping to a low grunt. “Don’t even think about it. I’ not putting up with you going out of your way to make me jealous on purpose.”

She winks, but before I can put the fear of God into her, she takes another bite of her croissant. Then, she closes her eyes, tilts her head back, and moans like she’s in the throes of ecstasy.

“For fuck’s sake,” I groan, my voice rough with frustration.

She opens her eyes, wide and innocent, but the wicked curl of her lips gives her away. “Am I getting you all hot and bothered?”

“Always,” I admit through gritted teeth.

Her delighted laughter fills the room as she sets her plate aside. Rising from her seat, she strolls toward me with the confidence of someone who knows exactly the effect she has.

A second later, she plops herself down on my lap, her plump ass pressing against me as she wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist.

The mood shatters when Vladmir strides into the room with an envelope in hand.

“A courier just delivered this,” he says flatly, holding it out. “He didn’t know who hired him, and he was paid in cash.”

I glare at him, irritated by the interruption but curious enough to let it slide for now. He places the envelope in my hand and exits without so much as glancing in Kat’s direction.

I’ll have to deal with that later. Vladmir doesn’t get to upset Kat—or ignore her entirely.

“What is it?” she asks, her brow furrowing as she leans closer.

I flip the envelope over, frowning when I see her name scrawled on it in uneven handwriting. “No clue,” I say, holding it out to her. “But it’s addressed to you. Why don’t you tell me?”

She doesn’t hesitate. Sliding a finger under the seal, she rips it open and pulls out a folded letter. Her frown deepens with every word she reads.

“Well?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“It’s from Erin,” she says quietly, her eyes scanning the page.

“Erin McGuire?” The shock in my voice is palpable.

She nods. “Yeah. She says she doesn't have time to explain everything right now, but she’s certain her father didn’t kill Maxim. She says it’s impossible—but she can’t tell me why yet.”

“Of course,” I scoff, my tone dry. “How convenient. Why would she tell you this?”

“She and I… connected at McGuire’s party,” Kat says, shrugging her delicate shoulders

“She hinted at knowing more than she could say at the time. I think she meant to tell me everything before she vanished.”

“Well, don’t trust her too quickly,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “She’s her father’s daughter. For all we know, McGuire wrote that letter himself.

“There’s more,” Kat murmurs, her voice tightening as her eyes scan the page. “Erin warns me not to trust your men. She says the only person I can trust is you.

A humorless laugh escapes me. “Of course. That’s exactly what McGuire would want you to believe. This letter isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.

She hesitates, her grip on the letter tightening. “Maybe. But maybe not. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this. What if we’ve been too focused on McGuire? Maybe we need to take a step back and look at this from a different angle.”

I scoff. “You can’t be serious.

“Why not?” she asks, lifting her chin

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down his face as he fights to keep his irritation in check. “Look, I appreciate that you care about finding Maxim’s killer. I do. But you’ll have to trust me on this. McGuire is our guy.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, her voice calm but edged with determination.“How can you be so sure?” Her posture straightens, her arms crossed as if bracing herself for my answer.

“Because I know him better than you do. I’ve been expecting something like this for years—it was only a matter of time.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re right,” she counters. “What if someone else?—”

“I’ve considered every angle,” I say, forcing my tone to stay even. “I didn’t just decide McGuire was guilty on a whim. I know it was him. By the time you even got pulled into this, I’d already eliminated every other possibility. If anyone had the motive, means, and opportunity, it was him. I don’t need a lecture on how to handle my own business.”

Her expression softens, but she doesn’t back down. “I’m not trying to insult you. I just thought?—”

“Even if he didn’t kill Maxim, it doesn’t matter anymore,” I interrupt, my voice firm. “Not after he sent his men after you. That alone seals his fate.”

“Listen,” she says, shaking her head like she’s trying to redirect the conversation. “You wanted to avoid a war. You didn’t want anyone else to die over this—that’s why you asked for my help in the first place. Just take a moment and think about this. You can still mend fences with McGuire. We could just put this behind us and move on.”

“Don't ask me to dishonor Maxim's memory by letting the man who killed him walk free," I say, my tone sharp. "McGuire has to go. That’s not up for debate.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. Her voice rises slightly, betraying the tremor of fear underneath her anger. “Just hear me out for a second—you’ve said it yourself, McGuire’s dangerous. Would you want me walking into something that could get me hurt—or worse, killed?”

I grit my teeth, the knot in my chest tightening. “No, but?—”

She cuts me off before I can finish. “Then how do you expect me to be okay with you doing the same damn thing?”

“That's completely different, and you know it. Besides?—“

“I can't just sit here and pretend to be okay with you risking yourself like this,” she snaps, cutting me off. “Both you and McGuire have made this personal, and it’s not going to end until one of you is dead. And I don’t want it to be you.”

“Kat, I can handle McGuire,” I reply firmly. “Everything will be fine. I promise. You have to trust me.”

Her eyes flash with frustration, her voice rising. “You can’t promise me that! And it’d be one thing if this was about protecting someone, but it’s not—it’s revenge. Killing McGuire isn’t going to bring Maxim back. He wouldn’t want you to die for this.”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” I snap, harsher than I mean to. “You have no idea what Maxim would’ve wanted. None.”

“Maybe not," she says, her voice shaking with frustration. "But here’s what I do know—I’ve spent my entire life fighting to protect myself and the people I care about from violence and danger. Fighting to keep us safe. If something happened to you…” She grips my shoulders, her knuckles whitening. Her voice falters, and she swallows hard. “I don’t know what I’d do. And if you insist on doing this, it’s only a matter of time before it does.”

I sigh, the weight of exhaustion creeping into my tone. “Kat, I’m asking you to trust me. That’s all. Everything will be okay.”

Her arms cross tightly over her chest, and her blue eyes blaze with anger. “After everything we’ve been through, I deserve better than this. If Dmitri or Vladmir brought this up, you wouldn’t just brush them off like this.”

I let out a humorless laugh, the tension snapping between us. “If Dmitri or Vladmir even dreamed of questioning my authority like this, I’d shut them down a hell of a lot harder than I’m doing with you.”

Her jaw tightens. “Your authority?”

“Yes, my authority,” I snap, my frustration boiling over. “The thing that keeps me as the head of the bratva . Because that’s what I am, Kat—the head of the bratva . Do you know how I got here? How I stay here? Not by being weak, that’s for damn sure.”

I take a step closer, the harshness of my words heavy in the space between us. “You may look down on me, think of me as nothing but a street thug with no class or common sense, but I don’t have the luxury of being soft. Of letting things slide. This life—it’s brutal, bloody, and messy—but it’s mine. It’s how I keep my head on my shoulders. It’s how I keep food on the table, designer shoes on your feet, and a roof over our heads.”

Her eyes flash, but I press on, my voice lowering, almost dangerous. “It’s how I protect Vladmir, Dmitri, you, and everyone else who depends on me. And you knew this from the start.”

She takes a half-step back, her gaze flicking briefly toward the door as though she can’t bear to look at me. “I just don’t want to lose you,” she says, her voice trembling. “That’s all. I just want to put all of this behind us. I want to be with you, feel safe, and be happy.”

“I want the same things!” I snap, harsher than I mean to. “That’s why I need to kill McGuire. This is how we’ll be safe and happy. Hate to break it to you, but this is not a fairytale. I’m not your Prince Charming, and I don’t have a magic wand to wave and magically give us a happy ending.”

Her jaw tightens, her fists curling at her sides. “I don’t want you to be my Prince Charming,” she spits back. “All I want is to not have to worry that every time you walk out the door, it might be the last time I see you alive. Is that too much to ask?”

I sigh heavily, the weight of her words pressing against my chest. “You’re not listening to me?—”

“No, you’re the one not listening!” she interrupts, her voice rising. “I wish?—”

I cut her off, my tone cold but steady. “You wish I were someone else. I’m not a good guy, Kat. And I’ve never pretended to be. Never promised I’d be, either. This is my life. That’s the truth. I can’t change who I am. Can’t change the fact that this is the world I live in.”

I step closer, my voice softening, though the edge remains. “I’ll bend over backwards to give you anything you desire, but that’s something I can’t give you. I thought you understood that. Especially after last night. That’s what you signed up for when you stayed.”

"No, I don’t accept that," she says, her voice firm despite the tremor running through it. "I want to be with you, but don’t ask me to just sit here and accept the possibility that whenever you leave my sight, I might never see you again. You signed up for this life, but I didn’t. I want you—not all the strings attached.”

Her words hit me like a slap, sudden and sharp. My body stiffens, the air in the room turning frigid. I step forward, invading her space, but too far gone to care. “Don’t you dare say that to me. You can’t do this to me—not after last night. This is not one of your games, Kat. I warned you there was no turning back. That if you stayed, you were mine. Forever.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and my hands curl into fists at his sides, my chest rising and falling sharply as I fight to rein in my emotions. My voice drops, barely above a whisper. “You like to call me sweet? Try to leave me, and I’ll show you how wrong you are. I’ll show you what I’m capable of. I’ll do unspeakable things to keep you with me. There’s nothing I won’t do. Nothing. Do you understand?”

Her breath hitches, and she takes a shaky step back. The color drains from her face, her expression twisting with a mixture of shock and pain. Her voice softens, but the hurt in her eyes cuts me deeper than any blade. “I can’t believe you’d say that to me. After everything we’ve been through together?” Her arms wrap protectively around her middle, and her gaze flickers with disbelief.

She steps back, her voice gaining strength, trembling with anger and disbelief. “You’d never let me risk myself the way you’re risking yourself—the way you’re warning me you’ll risk yourself forever. I can't believe you’re asking me to let myself care for you—to let myself fall for you. You want me to give you my heart, just so you can shatter it? You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’ll spend the rest of my life in fear, dreading the day Dmitri walks through that door to tell me you’re gone forever.”

“Fuck. Kat, hang on—” I reach for her, desperate to take it back, to undo the damage I’ve caused.

“I need a moment,” she says, her voice breaking.

She steps away, dismissing me with an effortless ease that feels like a dagger to my chest. Without a single glance back, she walks out of the room. The sound of her footsteps fades as she walks away, leaving a disturbing emptiness in her wake.

I stand, frozen, staring at the doorway she just walked through, the crushing weight of my own stupidity pressing down on me. The silence is deafening, and all I can think is that I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.