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Chapter 7
Nikolai
After flying to my family’s island off the coast of Finland, I walk toward my parents’ house to greet them.
The island is protected with state-of-the-art security, and the four houses are surrounded by woods. Besides my parents and grandparents, Inna, her husband, and their children also live here. My house is right on the edge of the woods and the farthest from the main house.
Whoever tries to attack the island is on a suicide mission. The perimeters have never been breached.
I only make it to the steps before I hear Grandma yell, “Winter, Nikolai is home!”
A smile spreads over my face, and stepping through the front door, it’s to see my mother come flying down the stairs.
Happiness shines from her as she captures me in a hug. “Ahh, my baby.
I’ve missed you.”
I press a kiss to her flaming red hair. “I missed you too.”
Christ, I’ve traveled the world, but there’s no place like home. It’s the only place I can let my guard down.
“Is Nikolai here?” my father calls from upstairs.
“Yes, get your ass down here,” Mom shouts. Her eyes flit over every inch of my body before she smiles up at me. “Are you only here for the weekend?”
I nod and glance at the stairs as my father comes down them. Even though my mother is Irish with fair skin, red hair, and green eyes, I’m the spitting image of my father. Inna got Mom’s eyes.
I take my father’s hand, and as we shake, I give him a hug. “St. Monarch’s will drive me insane. I needed some time with my family,” I say before Grandma comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
I hug the woman who helped raise me, then ask, “Where’s Grandpa?” “He’s doing his rounds with the guards,” Grandma answers.
I let out a chuckle. “He’ll never stop working.”
“You’re in time for dinner,” Mom says as she hooks her arm through mine.
Even though my parents are ruthless criminals, I’ve never known a day where my sister and I weren’t unconditionally loved.
I hit the jackpot with my family.
“How are things at St. Monarch’s?” Dad asks. “Whenever I call Carson, he’s busy with something.”
I let out a sigh as I shake my head. “With Sartori and D’Angelo sending their daughters for training, it’s stirred things up. The three bratva enforcers are constantly fighting with the yakuza trainees. I’m so fucking glad I never had children.”
Mom lets out a burst of laughter. “You’ll sing a different song once you’re holding your firstborn in your arms.”
She still has hope that I’ll marry and have kids. Avoiding the subject, I say, “Uncle Carson says he’ll find a replacement in the next two months. Then I’ll be able to focus on the business.”
We all take a seat at the dining table, and not long after, Grandpa comes into the dining room.
A wide smile curves his lips. “The lost son has returned.”
“Lost my ass,” I mutter playfully as I rise to my feet to hug the man who might not be blood-related but is like a grandfather to me.
Cillian and Dana practically raised my mother, and I grew up thinking of them as my grandparents.
Grandma brings the food to the table, and after we’ve all helped ourselves, Dad asks, “Have you spoken to the new dealer in Congo?”
“Yes.” I wipe the corners of my mouth. “There’s a meeting set for two months from now.”
Dad’s eyes narrow on me. “But?”
I shrug. “My gut tells me there’s something off about the deal. Tshimaga is too forthcoming for my liking.”
Dad nods before he says, “Then we’ll all go. If anything goes wrong, the rebels won’t know what hit them.”
“Yes,” Mom agrees as she gives Dad’s hand a squeeze. “They won’t stand a chance against all of us.”
We eat in silence for a moment before Dad asks, “Are you at least enjoying being an instructor at St. Monarch’s?”
Not hesitating, I shake my head. “I don’t have the patience for it. The attendees are driving me insane. The only reason I’m doing it is for Uncle Carson.”
“Oh no,” Mom coos. “It’s a shame.”
Dad frowns at me. “How are the attendees driving you insane?”
I cut through the steak on my plate. “Abigail and Aurora have zero fighting experience.” I glance at my parents. “They weren’t raised the same as Inna and me. It’s pathetic.”
“Oh.” Mom tilts her head, her eyes locking on my face. “Why does it bother you?”
I shrug. “I just hate training them. It’s tedious.” A smile curves my lips as I say, “Luckily, I’ll be done with them in two months, and they’ll be someone else’s problem.”
After dinner, I enjoy a tumbler of whiskey with Dad, and as if Mom’s nagging isn’t enough, he asks, “Still no woman out there that’s caught your eye?”
Abigail’s face flashes through my mind, and frowning at the unwelcome thought, I shake my head. “I’m happy with my bachelor status.”
Dad nods, his eyes searching mine. “There’s something bothering you.
Out with it.”
I shrug as I set the empty tumbler down on the side table. “I’m just worried about the deal with Tshimaga.”
“No, it’s something else,” Dad argues, his eyes sharpening even more on me.
Knowing he’ll keep pushing until I give in, I admit, “Abigail Sartori annoys the living fuck out of me. Half the time, I’m tempted to carry out the hit on her life myself.”
Dad’s eyebrows fly into his hairline. “Is that so?”
I immediately shake my head. “Hell to the fuck no.” A smile starts to curve his lips which has me muttering, “The woman is nothing more than a thorn in my side.”
Dad nods, but I can see he doesn’t believe me. “She’s the enemy,” I remind him.
“So was your mother.” He waves a hand at the doorway. “And look where we are now.”
Like a fucking idiot, I blink at my father. “There’s no way. The girl is eighteen years younger than me. I don’t rob cradles.”
Dad lifts the tumbler to his lips and takes a sip before saying, “As long as both parties are consenting adults, age doesn’t matter.”
“Did you hear the part where I said she annoys the fuck out of me?” I ask, quickly growing impatient with the subject we’re discussing.
“I heard it.” Dad lets out a chuckle. “Loud and clear.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Still, you don’t believe me.”
Slowly he shakes his head. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter. First, they crawl beneath your skin, and before you know it, your entire fucking world revolves around them.”
Taking my dad’s tumbler from him, I down the rest of his drink. “There’s no way on this godforsaken planet that my world will ever revolve around Abigail Sartori.”
Dad nods, and when he pours whiskey into the empty glass, I say, “I’m going to head to bed. Maxim is coming tomorrow.” As he takes a sip, I add, “Don’t tell Mom about any of this. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Dad’s chuckle follows me out of the sitting room. Walking out of the main house, I head in the direction of mine.
The late evening air is cold, especially with the breeze coming from the lake around the island. A chill creeps up my spine, and it has nothing to do with the chill in the air.
This afternoon I almost lost my shit when I saw Abigail had been crying. I was ready to rip someone’s throat out.
I was so fucking caught off guard by the intense protectiveness I felt toward the insufferable woman I couldn’t even tell her to go to hell when she taunted me.
I don’t fucking care about her.
Then why the fuck did I react so strongly to a couple of tears? And the questions from Dad?
Am I missing something?
I open my front door and don’t even bother turning on the lights as I walk to my bedroom.
Yes, Abigail is beautiful, and sometimes her sass is amusing, but that’s where it ends.
You’ve jerked off more than you care to admit since she set foot in St.
Monarch’s.
Fine, I admit there’s some kind of attraction, and her flirting with me every chance she gets doesn’t help, but I don’t plan on acting on it. The
woman is fucking sexy, and any man with eyes in his head would find her desirable.
Stripping out of my clothes, I walk into the ensuite bathroom and turn on the faucets for the shower. I don’t wait for the water to warm before stepping beneath the spray, letting the drops hit my face.
Abigail Sartori is just a little girl who’s looking for entertainment while she’s at St. Monarch’s.
Daddy.
I hear her purr the word, and before I can banish the memory, I grow rock hard.
Never in my life did I think it would be a turn-on hearing a sexy woman call me Daddy.
Not just any woman. It’s the way Abigail says it. Her voice is always filled with promises of filthy sex and intense orgasms.
Fuck, she’s not just under my skin but running wild in my head.
Grabbing the body wash, I squirt some into my hand and begin to clean myself.
When my fingers close around my erection, memories of Abigail’s body straining beneath mine bombard me. I hear her voice as if she’s whispering in my ear, and before I know it, I’m shooting my load in the shower.
Christ. This has to stop.