Chapter 36

36

GWEN

W ith my bare hands, I dig into the damp soil, feeling the coolness and moisture of the earth on my skin. Mary has been by my side for the past two days as we carefully arrange a row of garden boxes on Nik's balcony, right off of his office, on the first floor of the penthouse. The air is filled with the soft hum of the city below, and the vibrant colors of pink, yellow, and white tulips make a beautiful mess in front of me.

These are the same types of flowers that Nik's mother had throughout the club when it was called Vivi's instead of Johanna' s. I tried to match the colors of Vivi's, but I could only find limited photos of the club on Google, so most of the garden comes from my imagination.

I take a moment to lean back on my heels and wipe the dirt from my palms onto my jeans, admiring the neat rows of planted tulips. I can't help but imagine Nik's reaction when he sees them - perhaps a flicker of surprise, or even a rare genuine smile. Thinking about it warms me from within, even though I know it will be short-lived .

The garden still has some empty corners, but it's coming along nicely. I move over to the last corner, determined to fill it before tonight. I want to show Nik after dinner, hoping that in some small way it will bring him peace before I inevitably shatter his world even more than it already is.

The sharp ring of my phone cuts through the tranquility, snapping me back to reality. I quickly wipe the dirt from my hands, fumbling to pull my phone out of my pocket. The screen flashes with an unknown number, and for some reason, my skin turns cold.

"Hello?" I answer cautiously.

"Is this Gwendolyn Sharp?" The voice on the other end is cold and professional, with the clipped tone of someone delivering bad news.

"Yes, this is her." I fix the phone to be in the crux of my neck and slide my bottom to the concrete to sit criss-cross in front of the garden. "How can I help you?"

"This is Officer Meyers from the Maryland Police Department."

My mouth runs dry.

"We have a deceased individual we believe to be Rosalina Sharp."

I can't fucking breathe. I feel sick to my stomach.

"We've been unable to reach her son, Randolph Sharp, so you're listed as the next of kin. We need you to come in and confirm her identity."

I'm numb. The world around me blackens, and I swear there is nothing keeping me from jumping up and free falling off of this balcony.

"I—I can't do that right now." My voice cracks, and I clear my throat, trying to regain some composure. "I'm not in Maryland."

"I understand, but you have 72 hours to identify her. If not, we'll have no choice but to bury her as a Jane Doe."

"Jane Doe?" I whisper.

"Unidentified woman. She will be buried in the porterfield."

"Oh," I respond mindlessly. "How did she die?"

"Ma'am, I cannot disclose sensitive information over the phone."

"Please," I whisper so low I can barely hear myself.

"Homicide," the officer whispers back.

My throat tightens, and I barely manage to whisper a thank you before the call ends. The weight of it hits me all at once, and I drop the phone into the dirt. Tears sting my eyes, and I bite down hard on my lip, willing myself not to break down.

No. No, this can't be happening. I refuse to fall apart right now, not when the weight of my world is crashing down on me. Nana Rose, my rock and constant source of strength, gone in an instant. If she's truly dead, then it must have been Mason's doing. The scream that rips from my throat is raw with pain and anger, threatening to consume me whole.

I can't help it; my dirt filled nails scrape at my skin as another sob escapes me.

I can't. I can't fall apart right now. Nana Rose can't be dead, she was as healthy as a horse. At 72, she barely broke a sweat during our weekly yoga sessions and I damn near passed out from exertion. She had years to live and if she's dead, then it was Mason. I can barely hold in the scream that escapes my lips.

My dirt-covered nails scrape against my skin as another sob escapes me. I can't stop myself from doing it; the action is involuntary, as I feel myself burning at the stake.

The guilt is overwhelming, because Nana's death is my fault. I should have let Nik protect her. If I had been honest from the start, I wouldn't be forced to go identify her remains now or risk her being buried in some unmarked grave on a disease-ridden island off the coast.

This can't be happening, it's impossible. I refuse to believe it until I see her lifeless body with my own eyes. But I can't even do that.

Every step outside of this building, let alone New York, puts me, Nik, our children at risk. Nik's father is still out there, and Mason is relentlessly pursuing me.

I inhale deeply, blinking rapidly to push the tears back. I have to keep it together. I focus on the empty corner of the garden, because if this was a memorial for bodies Nik and I would never see again, then it's only right for Nana to be here.

All I have are fucking tulips, but Nana's favorite was her yellow Roses that her father planted in their garden as she grew up. She used to say yellow roses bring hope for tomorrow. It's the least I can do for her. I press the dirt, carving out an even square out for her, letting the repetitive motions of planting calm me, even though my hands are trembling.

When the soil looks ready, I brush the dirt off my jeans before standing up. My heart feels heavy, but I force myself to square my shoulders .

I need to find Mary and tell her to buy me yellow roses. I need to call Kelsey and ask if she can leave the kids at Tay's and identify Nana's body with me, but worst of all I need to look Nik in the eye and tell him I am the reason my nana is dead.

I walk inside of the study, about to make my way towards the kitchen when I hear voices—Nik's, along with two others that I don't recognize.

I quickly wipe my eyes and take a deep breath, schooling my features into something that looks cheerful enough. I can't let him see that I've been crying. Not now. I follow the voices down the hallway, the sound growing clearer as I approach his living room. When I round the corner, I plaster on a bright smile. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Nik's gaze snaps to me instantly, his eyes narrowing as they take in my appearance. I can see the suspicion flicker behind those steely blue eyes. "Why do you look like you've been crying?"

"Jesus, Nik, can you say hi first." A woman with butt-length honey blonde hair and eyes that sparkle darker than Nik's smacks him in the chest as she looks me over.

I shake my head quickly. "It's nothing. Just got a bit emotional over the surprise I have for you, actually." I hope the distraction works.

He studies me, not fully convinced, but lets it slide for now. "We'll talk about that later," he says, still watching me intently. Then he gestures to the two people standing beside him. "Gwen, this is Nadia, my sister and second-in-command, and Aleksandr, our fixer."

Nadia is tall and sharp-eyed, with a cold elegance that makes it clear she doesn't take any nonsense from anyone. Her princess-like features contrast against her black leather knee-high boots, ripped black skinny jeans and a lace black top under her kiss-ass leather jacket. She offers her hand and a deadly sweet smile. "You're a gorgeous girl, no wonder Nik's been blue balled since the last time he saw you."

"Oh." I shake her hand, looking over at Nik from the corner of my eye. "I thought he was lying about the five year dry spell."

"Trust me, we wish he was. He's a dick when he hasn't fucked." She rolls her eyes.

"Oh yeah? So what's your excuse, Nadia?" Nik taunts and she flips him off.

Aleksandr studies me from a distance, his sharp chocolate brown eyes dart over my frame and when he has gotten his fill of me, he nods once in acknowledgement, and I nod back, wary.

"Nadia and Aleksandr will be moving in," Nik says, looking around the room.

"Welcome to Nik's penthouse," I say with as much warmth as I can muster, trying to ignore the shattering of my heart.

"Our penthouse, Kotik," he corrects, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and kissing my temple.

Nik has been in meetings since eight tonight, and because he's home, Roshin is nowhere in sight, neither is Nadia or Aleksandr. I am alone for the first time in forever, in Nik's black cashmere hoodie that smells like cedar, smoke and home, in the middle of the living room reading the same two lines of a Virgina Woolf book.

"One cannot bring children into a world like this. One cannot perpetuate suffering, or increase the breed of these lustful animals, who have no lasting emotions, but only whims and vanities, eddying them now this way, now that."

It's as if Woolf can see me. My children are probably in a taxi to the airport, on their way to a doom of my own creation. In less than 24 hours, I'm about to introduce them to a father who'll love them but might never forgive me for hiding them from him. A man who might resent me. I keep imagining the way Nik's going to look at me after he finds out.

His eyes will flash that dark blue; confusion, hurt and resentment will burn until any love he has for me burns out in his pupils. He will never forgive me for my crimes, and even now, I want to keep them hidden.

I can't shake this feeling that I am dragging them into a world that they should never be part of. Nik's world is filled with violence, people are treated like pawns, and everyone is selfish. The animals that stalk these shadows are men who are ruled by greed and primal instincts, who would destroy everything in their path for a fleeting sense of control.

I want to protect them from this, to give them peace, love, and a childhood I never seemed to have, but regardless of want, I am pulling them into the darkness because Nik has already consumed me in him. I am selfish for this, for loving a man so dangerous again. I should have learned from my high school sweetheart, Mason. Instead, I upgraded from hometown gang leader to Mafia Boss.

A scoff leaves my lips and I close the book, not wanting another one of Woolf's haunting lines to see through me again, not tonight. I am not even a fan of her work. Nana was. Nana loved Virgina Woolf, thought they were cut from the same cloth. A woman tired of a man's world breaking free of it. I am not that, not anymore.

My throat tightens, and my eyes begin to water. Fuck, here it goes again, my grief hitting me in the chest -- taking what little bit of strength I have left within me. Leaving me a shell of myself.

I performed during dinner under Nik's squinting gaze. I performed on this couch reading, knowing he would peek down from the meeting room upstairs every ten minutes or so. I perform now, pulling his sweater around me tighter, believing that his scent will run the demon away, but this time they don't run far enough.

"Gwen," Nik's gruff voice snaps me out of my trance, and I look up at him with an easygoing smile.

"Yes?"

He pauses, staring at me from above, and again he asks the question I keep internally begging he stops. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." I smile, pulling my feet underneath my bottom. "Well, besides your father hunting us and me going stir crazy in this house."

He nods sharply, disbelieving. I bite my lip, internally begging him not to demand I tell him the truth. I can only lie when he doesn't command me to be honest, and I can't be honest right now. "Come take a shower with me."

"Sorry, can't scrub your back tonight." I shrug, showing him my book. "I'm reading. "

"Right." He looks off for a second before looking down at me with a mischievous smirk. "Well, be done with that by the time I get out of the shower. I want my favorite dessert tonight."

My stomach flips, and my cheeks turn blossom a soft pink. "Don't let me get cold. I heard I am best served hot."

A lazy smile spreads across his lips before he turns around and disappears down the hallway. When I can't hear him anymore, I let the fake smile drop off my face as I scurry to my feet and start to walk in the opposite direction.

Looking cautiously over my shoulder, I turn towards the emergency staircase passing some of the guards and placing my finger up to my lips to shush them.

"Ma'am, I can't-" One of them tries to stop me, but I knock my elbow into his rib cage and give him a deadly sweet smile.

"Sorry, on the phone. I need privacy." I sidestep him, my hand pressing against the door knob of the staircase when he places a palm on my shoulder. "If I were you, I would stop touching me because if Nikolai sees your hands on me, that will be the last time they will be attached to your body."

The man snatches his hand back to his body, caressing it as if I just bit him. "Ma'am I can't let you down that staircase; you're not allowed to leave the penthouse."

"Look, I get it, I'm in danger but I need a minute, no guards, no one breathing down my neck, just a minute where I can be alone and feel normal for a second." My eye darts between his gaze and the man behind him. But before they can say no again, I continue. "I won't leave the building, I promise."

One more cautious glance. And then the guard takes his position back against the wall. "Twenty minutes, Miss, and then we are coming for you like it or not."

I give him a tight smile. "Thank you, boys."

I push into the stairwell and slip my phone out of my back pocket, quickly dialing Kelsey's number. I skip casually down the stairs, taking my time down the forty flights of stairs. Kelsey answers on the third ring, her voice shooting over the speaker. "If you were calling me to tell me not to come to New York, it's too late, we're already through security and Mia already has a matcha latte."

I snort, knowing that Gio is probably pinching his nose away from her because he hates the smell. "What's Gio drinking?"

"Your son is weird, he got iced black tea, no sweeteners, or juice, just plain black tea, totally not normal," Kelsey whisper-yells into the phone. In the background, Gio's muffled voice can be heard protesting, while Mia's high-pitched hello echoes in the background. My heart swells at the sound of their voices, anticipating seeing them again.

But then I remember why I had to call Kelsey, and a sickening feeling settles in my stomach. I was going to introduce the twins to Nik, but when was I going to tell them that their grandma had died? They would notice when she wasn't here for Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or when there were no sloppy kisses on their cheeks for their birthday. They would ask for her and I would have nothing to say. I don't know how to tell two five-year-olds that they will never see their nana again. And I know I could never tell them it was my fault.

"Hey Kels, can you leave David with the kids for a second? I have to tell you something." I continue my way down the stairs, listening to her shuffle away from the children.

"What's up? If you seriously don't want us to come to New York City, I was just joking. We will literally turn around and go back home," she rushes out, but then takes a deep breath and continues. "But the twins really miss you, G. They want their mom."

"It's not that, just-" I pause, pushing open the other emergency door at the ground level, and entering a surprisingly empty lobby. It's weird, unsettling even, but I pushed that thought aside as I make my way to the back corner of the lobby where I will have enough privacy.

"After you land, I need you to drop the twins off at Taylor's and then drive down to DC." I perch on the arm of a chair, nervously tapping my foot against the floor.

Kelsey groans. "Why do you want me to drive down to DC? After a four hour flight? Why?"

"They found Nana Rose's body," I blurt out before I can stop myself. The words feel heavy and cold on my tongue, making everything more real. The ball of salt that keeps building and unraveling in my throat churns again. "The cops need me to identify her. I can't do it alone, Kels. I can't."

"Gwen, what the hell? When did this happen?" Her voice comes out in a croak as if she's on the verge of tears.

"If you cry, I cry. And if I cry, I won't stop so please don't cry," I plead and listen as she sharply clears her throat.

Before she can respond, the hair on the back of my neck stands up and I feel something cold and menacing standing behind me. "Kelsey, hold on."

As soon as I open my mouth to respond, a chill shoots down my spine and I feel a menacing presence looming behind me. Before I can even turn around, a hand covered in cloth clamps over my mouth, cutting off my scream. The scent of something sharp and sickly sweet invades my nostrils and just then, panic sets in as I thrash against the strong grip, but it's no use.

A raspy voice grates against my ears as he whispers, "Don't you worry, gorgeous. We are going to treat you just fine."

I take a deep breath, ready to scream my heart out, but then everything goes black.