Chapter 15

fifteen

Nevaeh

Wrenlee is the first to call it a night, after what had to have been a symphony of yawns, only adding to my theory that she’s pregnant. Still, it’s late when Kane closes the door behind the last guest—Tav—after he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek with a murmured, “Welcome to the family.”

Kane flips the lock on the front door before landing those incredible, should-be-illegal eyes on me. These eyes must be responsible for a thousand broken hearts. Maybe they’re the inspiration for the name of the band.

At the thought, I hear myself asking, “Why Devils Heartbreak?”

He levels me with those dang eyes. In response, I feel mine get shifty.

He asks softly, “What do you think?”

I can’t help but look at him, a smirk playing at my mouth. “I think it’s because you’re all killer handsome—devilishly handsome—and you all leave a trail of broken hearts in the aftermath of your devastation.”

“Creative.” He smirks. “But no.”

“So?” Rounding the island, I reach for my glass of wine and take a sip. “What’s the reason, then?”

“It’s personal.”

Air spills from my lungs at the crushing weight of sudden tension. Still, I push. “I’m wearing your ring. I’m going to be your wife. I think I should know the reason for your band name, no?”

He looks like he’s going to deny me, but when his eyes land on the ring he bought, he pauses. Then he says, “We’re all born of devils, Sunshine. So, we became devils in our own right. And the heartbreak is our own.”

I feel as though I’ve been punched. “How were you born of a devil?”

“My father isn’t a good man, but he’s my father,” is all he gives me.

I want to press for more—for everything—but I know it’s not my place. As much as I will be his wife, we don’t really know each other at all. I can’t ask him to bare his soul to me, to expose the shattered pieces of his heart, so I might find a way to stitch them back together before I’ve even had a chance to know him for, well, him.

I decide to rectify that tonight. “Do you want to join me outside? It’s a beautiful night to just sit out and listen to the ocean.” He watches me like he’s trying to see inside me as I top up my wine. “It’s okay if you don’t want to join me. You look—” I study him curiously, noting not for the first time the dark shadows under his eyes. Is he stressed? Overworked? “You look tired. Rain check. I’m good to sit alone.”

“I want to join you.”

“You do?” My breath catches. Why does it catch?

“Of course.”

I can’t help my blush as I fix him another drink—vodka, chilled, no ice, and carry both glasses to the patio door. I step, barefoot, onto the still warm-from-the-sun, smooth, stone patio. Then I move to the sectional with all the comfortable cushions, and lower onto it. I’m still in my dress, and there’s a bit of a chill in the air I didn’t account for when I made the decision to come out here. Kane, however, clearly thought of it, because he’s carrying the throw from the couch over an arm.

He passes me the blanket and moves to turn on the patio fireplace as I toss it over my lap, snuggling in. The opulence of his home is insane. I’ve been here for weeks, and it still stuns me.

When he settles beside me on the sectional, sitting surprisingly close, I can’t quite contain the waves that crash in my belly like the sea crashes against the rock of a cliff. Just like the sea, this man is going to wear me down wave after crashing wave.

“Can you tell me about yourself?” I ask softly, a little hesitantly. When he looks at me sideways, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa, I can’t help but feel safe surrounded by his warmth.

“What do you want to know?”

I slide my thumb over the bulbed belly of my wine glass. “Everything you want to tell me.”

“I’m the youngest of three boys.”

I wait for more, but when nothing comes, I prompt, “Are you close?”

He shrugs. “We were.”

“Were?”

“We were pushed into different roles. My father is a very intelligent, very diverse man. My brothers each head different Volkov family organizations.”

“What about you?”

He studies my frown. “I’m the spare, the chameleon. I was trained to manage both organizations in the unfortunate event that one of my brothers—” He pauses and a chill runs through me, because I could swear he was going to say dies. Instead, he says, “Fails.”

An unsteady, slightly uncomfortable breath leaves my lungs. “I see.” When he says nothing more, I ask, “How did you end up being a part of Devils Heartbreak?”

He rolls his lips, thinking. I sense I’m not getting the full story when he explains, “I was born in Russia. My father is Russian, my mother American. She was born and raised in New York. He first saw her during a business trip, and because my father is my father, he gets what he wants. He took her home with him, married her, and—” He laughs an incredulous sound as he rubs his brow. “Well, he forced her heart to fall for him. They’ve been in love since—though, the beginning, I’ve heard, was rather rocky.”

“You say that like he kidnapped her.” Kane only stares at me. I blink, waiting for him to elaborate before my pitch rises slightly, “Did he?”

“Some might call it kidnapping. My father likes to say it was an unconventional courting.”

I think my jaw is literally in my lap. When I finally pick it up, I laugh accusingly. “You’re joking.”

“No. I told you; my father isn’t a good man. He does, however, love hard. In his own special way.”

“Oh, my God, Kane—that’s—insane.”

“It’s their love story.”

“She has Stockholm syndrome.” I’m horrified.

Kane chuckles. “I assure you, she doesn’t. In fact, if anyone is at the mercy of the other, it’s my father at the mercy of her. There’s not a thing that man wouldn’t do for her. Nothing.”

I feel my face screw with indecision. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me.”

He chuckles, moving on. “I came to America at my father’s request. I attended college and met the guys. They quickly became my family, and the band was—it just happened. We all come from very powerful families, and we all are in the possession of very large inheritances, but we wanted something for ourselves. Wanted to carve our own path, in our own way.”

I’m still not sure if he’s been messing with me about his parents. “Why would your dad want you to come here?”

“Connections.”

“With who?” I frown.

“Enough about me. It’s my turn, Sunshine.”

I twist my lips to the side as I watch him take a sip of his vodka. The man doesn’t even flinch. If I did that, I’m confident I’d turn my stomach inside out.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

I laugh at the turned table, deciding, like him, to go with family. “I’m an only child. Mama had a hard delivery with me, she almost didn’t make it, but thankfully—” I touch my chest with my fingertips, rubbing. The thought of her not having made it through my birth alive always sparks a pain in my heart. “She had a blood clot in her leg that travelled to her lungs. It was an emergency caesarean after which they immediately operated on her to remove the clot. I might have my details a little wonky,” I admit. “But in the end, everything worked out. I was born six weeks premature.”

His voice is rough as he studies me. “Probably why you’re so small.”

“Psh!” I huff, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. “No way.”

“You are tiny, Sunshine.”

“I’m average.”

He makes a noise of disbelief that makes me sniff indignantly. “Okay, okay.” I think he’s about to amend his accusations and tell me I’m average when a bark of laughter breaks his restraint. “You’re itty bitty.” Thumb and finger press together in front of his face as he teases, “Teeny tiny. The runt.”

I give him a deadpan look. “You’re asking for it. I’ll have you know I’ve got pipes.”

I shouldn’t have said it. I really shouldn’t, because the man gets red in the face. He’s trying so hard to restrain his laughter, I think it very well might kill him. When he can no longer contain it, he busts a gut.

I roll my eyes and let him gather control of himself as I make a show of ignoring him.

Composure again gathered, I murmur, “Uncle Miguel says I have pipes.”

“Who is Uncle Miguel, and why is he lying to you?”

I huff. “He’s Mama’s brother. He’s also in a biker gang, so you better watch how you tease me.”

A brow raises. “That right?”

I shrug. “I’m pretty sure, but it’s not something we chit chat about at family dinner.”

“Huh.” Kane takes another sip of his vodka. “And your dad?”

“He’s the oldest of three sisters.” My voice gets soft. “I’m actually named after his youngest sister. Her name was actually Heaven. She passed away before I was born.”

Her brows draw together. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Well, it’s not, but it happened a long, long time ago.” I pull in breath. “She was three. She was riding her bike across the road when someone hit her. They didn’t even stop, and she passed away a few hours later in the emergency room. Dad always said they named her Heaven because they knew somehow that she’d be called home too soon—that Heaven missed an angel just too much. After the trauma of my birth, Dad named me Nevaeh. He couldn’t bring himself to name me Heaven, but he likes to say I’m a miracle from Heaven—both Heaven’s. That maybe she had a hand in saving us from wherever she is up there.”

When I finish my story, Kane is looking at me like I dropped from the sky. His words nearly shatter me, break me open so he can invade. I almost wish he would. “You are a miracle, Nevaeh. And you’re so fucking beautiful sometimes, it hurts.”