Chapter 37

Avgust~

I knew that she'd been through a lot, and it was unfair to take advantage of her tired and injured state, but I couldn't allow her to believe that she wasn't going to live here permanently from now on. Yeah, it'd basically be kidnapping, but that wasn't anything that was going to keep me up at night. What would keep me up at night was knowing that she wasn't in my bed.

"I can keep you here, and I am," I informed her. "Every employee on the property has been made aware that it'll be their lives if you escape again."

Samara's blue eyes widened. "Have you lost your mind?"

Ignoring that, I said, "Do not be the reason that someone loses their life, vozlyublennaya.

"Do not put that kind of responsibility on them, and then I won't," she fired back.

Letting out a deep breath, I tried another approach. "Do you recall when you eavesdropped on my conversation with Maksim?"

She arched a brow in attitude. "Of course."

"When he asked me if I was going to marry you, I said no," I repeated. "However, you never asked me why that had been my answer."

"That's because Maksim had been too busy talking about your wife and kids," she spat, crossing her arms over her chest.

"The wife and kids that I do not have," I reminded her. "I've never been married, nor do I have any children, Samara. You've only ever been the one in line to be my wife and the mother of my children." When she stubbornly remained silent, I continued with my point. "I told Maksim that I wasn't going to marry you because I knew that if I asked, you would say no. I knew that ours was not a welcomed happenstance for you, and no matter how you gave yourself over to me, warming my bed and pledging your life to me are two very different things to you."

Her blue eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "You threatened my sister's life, Avgust," she choked out. "You act like we just ran into each other, and then you asked me to dinner or something. You threatened Masha, and then threw me into a cage for revenge. Why on earth would I ever agree to marry you?"

"Precisely my point, Razh," I remarked coolly, doing my best not to rub my win in her face.

Refusing to give my win a point, she said, "I still don't see what that has to do with me returning home."

"Because this is your home now," I stated purposefully. "This is your home, and you need to come to terms with that, Samara."

"This is not my home," she bit out stubbornly.

"Look, baby," I sighed, knowing that she needed her rest. "I know that we have a lot of things that we need to work through, but you have to tear down those walls long enough for us to do that."

"Well, who in the hell do you think put them there in the first place, Avgust?' she snapped. "From the first moment that I met you, you've lied and misled me, and fifteen years later, you're doing the same damn thing."

"I've only lied to you about one thing, vozlyublennaya," I corrected. "I lie about my position in the bratva, but that is all that I've ever lied to you about."

"Now you're just playing semantics," she bit out.

"I am not," I insisted. "However, in the justice of pure transparency, not only will you be living here, but we will be getting married as soon as those stitches are out of your leg."

Samara's eyes practically bugged out of her head. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I replied coldly, lest she got it in her head that she could win this one. "We are getting married as soon as your stitches come out. Or, if you prefer, we can skip a big ceremony and have it here. Tomorrow."

"Avgust, I'm not marrying you."

"You are."

"No, I'm not."

"Oh, but you are," I pressed upon her. "You've no way out of this, Samara."

Her brows shot upward in disbelief. "You're actually serious."

"I am."

She started shaking her head. "Avgust, I'm tired. I…I have absolutely no desire to have this conversation with you."

"As you wish," I replied evenly. "I will let you get some rest, and then we can discuss this at greater length later."

"Yeah, no," she huffed. "There's nothing more to discuss."

"On that, we agree, vozlyublennaya," I drawled out before getting to my feet, so that she could rest some more.

"I'm serious, Avgust," she warned.

"As am I, Samara," I shot back as I grabbed the tray, pleased that she'd eaten everything.

When I neared the door, she called out to me, surprising me. "Avgust?"

I turned to look at her, and whether she realized it or not, she belonged in my bed. "Yes, baby?"

"What am I supposed to do with the N that's carved into my leg?"

Rage warred with heartbreak inside my chest at her question, and Louie Manziel was lucky that he was already dead. Had Samara not been able to save herself by killing him, I'd hold him in a basement to endure years of torture and crimes against nature.

"Once the stitches come out, we'll give it a few weeks to really heal, and then I'll begin contacting plastic surgeons that specialize in such procedures," I answered. "If they cannot give you perfection, then we will take what we can get, and then create the most magnificent tattoo that has ever been created to cover up what cannot be erased."

Tears immediately sprung to her eyes, but I knew that if I went to her, she'd lose it. Though Samara was a fighter at heart, no one was that strong. Samara had endured a lot these past few days, both physically and emotionally, and now her mind was beginning to join the chaos.

"It'll be okay, Samara," I promised her. "You're finally safe, and I won't ever let anything else happen to you."

"Am I safe from you, too?"

Since I wasn't in the habit of lying to her, I told her the truth. "No, baby. You're not."

She gave me a resigned nod before she pulled back the covers, then got comfortable in my bed. I waited until she was nestled underneath the blankets, then I turned off the lights and let her get back to sleep. It was only five in the afternoon, but if the pain pills did their job, then she'd probably sleep through morning, and I could only hope that was the case. If she was asleep, then I didn't have to worry about her overly much, and I needed to call Sartori again to see what Morocco could tell me about the three numbers in Louie Manziel's phone.

After delivering the tray back to the kitchen, I went to my office where I could speak with Sartori privately. It wasn't good business to be beholden to the enemy, but I didn't see where I had a choice. Morocco Carrisi was the best at obtaining information without getting caught, and he was priceless in a world like ours. I had no idea how he'd gone to work for Sartori, but there were times when I envied the talent that Nero Sartori had under him.

When Nero answered the phone, I could only roll my eyes. "Kotov," he greeted. "What a pleasant surprise. It's almost like we're friends."

"Samara killed Louie Manziel," I informed him.

"Yes, I'm aware," he replied smoothly. "The O'Brien filled me in."

"Well, I found a burner cell on his body, and it had three numbers programmed into it," I went on. "The first two went to voicemail, but someone answered on the third number."

"Klive Simpson? Or whatever Nikel is going by?"

"I think so," I answered. "Though no one spoke, so I cannot be too sure."

"Did you speak?"

"Of course," I scoffed. "I told him who I was and that I'd be seeing him soon."

Nero chuckled. "You Russians do have the flair for the dramatic."

"I need the numbers traced," I stated, ignoring his flippancy.

"You know that they'll probably lead to a dead end, right?'

"I'm aware," I replied. "However, it's a loose end that needs to be tied up."

Nero was silent for a second before he said, "I heard about the carving."

"Yeah, it is not pretty," I admitted. "And Samara is…is troubled by it."

"Which is why you're getting another freebee, Kotov," he said, making him the biggest asshole on the planet.