Chapter 12

Twelve

"Sir." The guard nods as I exit the elevator.

"Has everything been quiet?"

The guard pauses, but nods. "Yes, there was some ruckus in the apartment earlier. I asked Mrs. O'Brien through the door if everything was okay, and she said yes. Other than that though, it's been quiet."

"Thank you. You can go for now."

The guard steps to the side, away from the door. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, go get some sleep. You've earned it."

"Thank you, sir." He nods before walking away.

I open the door and let myself in, only to freeze at the sight before me.

My apartment looks like a bomb went off, and there, squatting in the middle of everything is Nikita.

Her head whips toward me, her eyes wide. "I'm so sorry. I'll replace everything. I'm sorry," she says frantically.

It hits me all at once.

She did this.

I shut the door behind me and approach her. She's surrounded by glass, and despite her holding a dustpan and a handheld broom, her hands are bleeding.

Nikita's watery eyes don't look away as I squat down next to her. Gently, I remove the broom and dustpan from her hands, dropping them to the floor. Carefully, I reach out to grab her hand, making her flinch.

"I just want to look at your hands," I tell her as I grab onto her wrist.

Wordlessly, Nikita nods and looks away.

I look down and see that she tore up her palms. I don't know if it happened when she was breaking everything or if it was when she started to clean up. Either way, she has glass embedded in her hands.

"Fuck," I curse.

Her hands look like hamburger they are so torn up.

Nikita recoils, trying to pull away, but I won't let her.

"We've got to get this glass out of your palms. It's going to hurt like a bitch."

"It's okay. I can do it once I'm done cleaning up this mess," she says without looking at me.

Fuck this.

Without thinking, I pull her into my arms and stand. Instinctively, Nikita wraps her legs around my waist. She holds onto me with dear life as I hold her with one hand on her back and one on her ass. The glass crunches under my shoes as I walk down the hall and head toward my bathroom. Once inside, I set her on the counter.

"Don't move," I tell her as I step back.

Shockingly, Nikita listens while I grab the first aid kit from under the sink. Opening it up, I grab what I need and get to work on cleaning her hands.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" I ask as I start to pick glass out of her palms with a pair of tweezers.

"I-I don't know. One second, I was talking to the guard and he was telling me that I couldn't go over to my place. Not even to get a change of clothes. Next thing I knew, I was surrounded by broken glass."

I look up at Nikita and suck in a breath at what I see.

She looks broken and completely vulnerable. She's still wearing the shirt I gave her last night, and I bet she has those tiny shorts on underneath. Her hair is wild, falling down her back, and I feel like I'm staring into her soul when I look her in the eyes. I've never seen her look so open. Usually Nikita's walls are so high that you know you will never scale them to see the real her. But today they are completely down, and I'm getting my first real glimpse at the woman I'm married to.

Nikita has a softness to her that I've only gotten a glimpse of while she's slept, and she looks fragile.

Fragile like a bomb, but fragile nonetheless.

"You were bound to snap," I say gruffly.

Nikita nods and licks her lips. I can tell she wants to say something, so I wait her out as I work on her hands.

"I'll accept whatever punishment you deem acceptable," she whispers after a few minutes.

My head snaps up, and my eyes narrow. "Excuse me?"

"I know how this works. I broke your things, and my actions have consequences. It would be understandable if you beat me."

Taking a deep breath, I set the tweezers down on the counter next to the small pile of glass chips I've removed. With barely concealed rage, I place my hands next to her hips on the counter and cage her in. Nikita leans back until she hits the mirror, trying to put some space between us, but I don't let her.

"You think because you broke some things that I'm going to hurt you?" I rasp.

Nikita jerkily nods.

I can feel my jaw tic as anger courses through me. "Let's get one thing straight, Nikita. I will never lay a hand on you in any way that you don't like."

"B-b…" she stammers.

"No. No, buts," I say, cutting her off. "That might be how they do things in the family you grew up in, but not mine."

"But you don't like me," she says, eyes wide.

I raise a brow. "You might be the biggest pain in my ass, but that's not a reason to abuse you."

"I broke your things."

I shake my head. Is she really trying to justify why I should hit her? Unbelievable.

"Yeah, you broke some of my things, but so what? They were just things that can be replaced. I didn't have any attachment to anything you broke. I give zero fucks about any of that shit."

"But they were yours and I ruined them," she huffs.

"Want to know a secret?"

"What?" she asks reluctantly.

I smirk. "I didn't even pick any of that shit out. That was all Tristano."

Her eyes widen. "He's going to hate me."

I chuckle. The idea of Tristano hating anyone is laughable. "Nah, if anything, he's just going to see it as a reason to come visit and buy me more shit I don't need."

"I don't understand you."

I shrug as I pick the tweezers back up. "You will in time."

My breath catches.

"You will in time."

I don't know what to do with that. Does that mean Declan wants to acknowledge that we have a relationship? Am I finally going to get to know the man I'm married to? Do I even want to?

I think about just moments ago and the look he sent me when I told him I would accept a punishment for ruining his possessions. He looked at me as if I had lost my mind and that the idea was absurd.

"That might be how they do things in the family you grew up in, but not mine."

When he said that, my heart beat wildly. I always knew that my family was messed up, even for a bunch of criminals, but Declan just validated my feelings without knowing it.

Hell, I've seen it firsthand. My father and his associates would never let their women invite strangers over the way Cleo did. Hell, as a married woman, if I went to a single man's home to water his plants the way Cleo and Autumn did when we met, I would be in a world of pain. Yet the Yakuza and Westies didn't act like it was a big deal. Almost as if it was a common occurrence.

Or it could just be because of who the person is in the situation, I don't know.

All of this is so new to me, and I don't know how to handle it.

"Thinking awfully hard. Are you all right?" Declan asks, pulling me out of my head.

"I'm fine."

Declan hums. "How's the pain?"

I look down at my hands and wince. It's not the worst pain I've ever been in, but it's uncomfortable.

This is going to take forever to heal. I think to myself.

"It's fine. I can handle it."

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should," Declan says softly.

"Who even are you, and what have you done with Declan?" I blurt out.

Declan chuckles as he wraps bandages around my hands. I feel my cheeks heat from his reaction. Usually I'm better at keeping my emotions locked away and my internal thoughts…internal.

He kisses each hand before he sets them in my lap.

Declan steps back and smiles. "You know, I'm really not a bad guy. You just have a tendency to bring out the worst in me."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, because that's really my fault."

Again, Declan laughs and shakes his head. Hearing his laugh is so foreign and makes my stomach swoop.

I place a bandaged hand over my stomach, trying to calm myself down.

"All done. I think I got all of the glass out but time will tell. We'll have to keep an eye on the wounds to make sure nothing gets infected."

"Thank you," I say sincerely.

"You're welcome," he says as he takes a step back.

I jump down from the counter and nod toward the door. "I better go get everything cleaned up."

I move to brush past him, but Declan reaches out and gently grips my arms. "Wait, we need to talk. Besides, I don't want you fucking around with that glass anymore. I'll have someone else do it."

"But it's my mess."

"It's not a big deal. Now how about you follow me into the bedroom so we can talk."

I swallow hard and nod.

The last thing I want to do is talk, but I know it needs to happen. Hell, I've been waiting for this moment since I woke up this morning.

"Take a seat." Declan nods to the bed.

I brush past him and pull back the covers of the bed before sliding in and sitting up, resting against the wall. I pick up his pillow and place it over my lap.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Declan sits down in the chair in the corner of his bedroom that faces the bed. He leans forward and rests his forearms on his knees.

A troubled look crosses his face. "I don't know how to ask this…"

"Just say it." I shrug as I start to run a finger over the pillowcase. Back and forth.

Declan takes a deep breath. "Do you know why your father would want to kill you?"

I freeze as his words set in.

It's not surprising, yet it is.

"I never thought it would come to this."

"So you know why?"

I shake my head. "What?"

"You said you never thought it would come to this. What did you mean?" Declan asks slowly.

"Oh, I didn't realize I said that out loud." I shake my head and take a deep breath. "My father never truly wanted kids, but he knew he had to for business reasons. He sees us as nothing but pawns. He forces my sister to sleep with men to learn what he wants." I fall silent as I gather my thoughts.

"What about you?"

I look over at Declan and take in his scowl.

"I was the daughter who was perfect on paper but not in real life."

"Explain," Declan demands as he sits back in the chair.

My eyes drop to his legs as he rests one ankle over his knee. His suit pants pulling just so to give you a hint of what lies underneath.

"Nikita…" My eyes snap up to his, and I see his eyes are full of amusement. "Keep going."

"I went out of my way to be seen and not heard. My father found value in being pure, and while I think it's an archaic way of thinking, I went out of my way to make sure I stayed a virgin. When he sold me to the Yakuza, he wanted me to spy on them." I shake my head as Declan grows tense. "Only I never did. I never intended to, really. I don't know what he thought I would learn, but I had a plan in place. Thankfully, it never came to that. Being out of sight worked in my favor and he forgot about me."

"Until we got married…"

I nod. "Until we got married. One thing you need to know about my father is he throws a fit if things don't go according to his plan. He probably thought he would sell me to someone else and build an alliance of his choosing."

"Instead, you married me without his consent." Declan raises a palm. "Which is a fucked-up thing to say."

"But it's true. He wouldn't be happy with me marrying who he deems the enemy."

Declan opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Before you can ask, no, I have not had any interactions or communications with anyone from Russia."

"That worries you…"

I nod. "Silence isn't always a good thing."

"I'm sorry. If we hadn't gotten married, this wouldn't be happening."

"You're right." Declan looks shocked at my words, almost like he thought I would deny it. "But if we hadn't got married, I would be dead, or worse, back in Russia under his rule, and that's a sentence far worse than death."

We fall silent as tension builds in the air.

You know…this is the longest I've ever been around Declan without fighting.

Declan's phone buzzes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him take it out of his pocket and check the screen.

"You have to go."

Declan nods. "I do, but you're coming with me. I'm going to drop you off at Callum and Autumn's and chase down some leads."

"Could I get a change of clothes first and take a shower?"

"Of course. I'll go grab you clothes from your place and you can use my bathroom. You'll be staying with me for now."

"Okay," I say as I get out of bed.

"Okay? Not going to fight me on this?"

I look over and see that Declan has a small smile on his face.

"I know when to pick my battles, and this isn't the time."

He nods. "Touché. I'll bring your bag in here. Please don't take too long getting ready."

I nod and head into the bathroom.

Little does my husband know, I'm not one to take forever to get ready. Then again, I guess with us living together, he's about to find out.