Chapter 23
Nikolai
After Abigail fell asleep, I sat like a frozen statue before I dared to move her to the bed.
I spent the night holding the woman I’ve fallen unbelievably hard for while she slept like the dead.
Christ, I miss her flirtatious nature. I miss her carefree smiles.
I miss her sass and how she always said what she was thinking with no filter.
She’s not even a shadow of her former self, and it guts me to see her struggle. I wish she would open up and allow me to help.
I’m already late for my combat class with the third-year attendees when she starts to stir. Her cheek rubs against my chest, and her arm tightens around my waist.
She lets out a contented sigh that warms my heart, but a minute later, her head pops up, and confusion tightens her features.
“Morning,” I murmur, making sure to keep my voice soft.
Her eyes dart to my face, and for a moment, there’s only surprise, but then I see terror creeping back into her irises.
She pushes away from me and sits up. Sweeping a hand over her messy hair, she whispers, “Morning.” When she climbs off the bed, she asks, “You slept here?”
“Yes.” I get up and quickly put on my boots. “Did you sleep well?”
Abigail thinks for a couple of seconds, and with surprise flashing over her face, she nods. “I did.” Her eyes dart to me. “And you?”
A smile curves my lips. “I got to hold you in my arms, so I slept like the dead.” Worry darkens her eyes, and it has me asking, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
She glances in the direction of the living room, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip before she answers, “I can’t be in a relationship.”
“I know.” Her gaze darts back to my face as I explain, “I just want to be your friend, Abigail. I’m not sure what happened to you, but I’m hoping you’ll let me be there for you.”
“Just friends?” she asks, even though I can see she doesn’t like the sound of that.
“Until you decide otherwise,” I assure her before admitting the truth, “I’ll take you any way I can have you.”
Her eyebrows draw together, and she looks so fucking sad all I want to do is sweep her into my arms and never let go.
I fist my hands by my sides to keep from grabbing her to me.
“It’s unfair to you, Nikolai.” Her voice is hoarse, taking a swing at my heart.
Slowly I move closer to her until I’m able to place my hand against her cheek. “Being forced to the sidelines while I have to watch you struggle alone through this trauma is unfair. I know this isn’t about me, but I’m begging you to let me in. Let me comfort you and give you the strength to get through this.”
She lowers her head, so I can’t see her eyes before she shakes her head. I press a kiss to her forehead, then say, “I’m not going anywhere,
Abigail. I won’t ask questions and will just support you. Okay?” Still not looking at me, she nods.
I kiss her forehead again before stepping away from her. “Go out into the garden and paint, moya lyubov’.”
She nods again, and as I walk toward the living room, I hear her ask, “What do the words mean?”
I stop by the door, and opening it, I glance back to the bedroom where she’s standing. Our eyes lock as I admit, “My love.”
Again sadness washes over her features, and I hate leaving her but force myself to step into the hallway, shutting the door behind me.
Small victories win the battle, Nikolai.
Letting out a sigh, I head to my own suite so I can shower and get to work. I’ve stationed an extra guard in the security room to keep watch over Abigail. He’s to notify me if she doesn’t order food or go to the dining hall and if he sees anything out of the ordinary.
When I’m freshly showered and ready for the day, I stop by the security room to notify Karlin that Abigail will be painting in the garden today.
I’m walking to the studio when Uncle Carson calls out, “Come to my office.”
Popping my head into the studio where the third-year attendees are, I order the cartel members, “Continue sparring for the rest of the lesson.”
When I walk into my uncle’s office, he instantly smiles at me. “I have good news.”
I take a seat opposite his deck, raising an eyebrow, “Yeah?” “I found a replacement for the combat instructor position.”
I’ve waited to hear the words from him, but now I worry about leaving Abigail here. “Who.”
“Hey, brother,” I hear the familiar voice behind me, and surprised, I glance over my shoulder at my sister.
“Hey.” I rise from the chair and give her a hug. “What are you doing here?”
Inna lets out a chuckle. “I’m the replacement.”
My eyebrows raise. “You are?” Keeping a hand on her shoulder, I ask, “Why didn’t you tell me you were considering the position?”
Inna shrugs. “Sergei and I wanted to be sure it’s the right thing for the children.”
Wow. It’s seldom I’m caught by surprise.
“And before you ask,” Uncle Carson chuckles. “I did not strong-arm her into the decision.”
Moving my hand to my sister’s back, I nudge her toward a chair. Once we’re both seated, I stare at her and ask, “Are you sure? The attendees are nothing but an aggravation.”
A burst of laughter escapes her. “I’m the one who was blessed with patience. Unlike you.”
Right. Inna is the complete opposite of me.
She gives me a reassuring smile. “The kids will love it here, and they’ll get the training they need to take over the business once we retire.”
True.
I nod. “As long as you’re happy, I’ll support your decision.” “I’ll still help with the family business,” she says.
Taking a deep breath, I smile at my sister and uncle before asking, “When is Inna starting?”
“In two weeks,” she answers. “Then you’re free to go home.”
I have two weeks left with Abigail. Fuck.
Nodding, I ask, “Are the children here?”
Inna shakes her head. “They’re at home with Sergei.” She stands up, and I quickly rise to my feet. My sister presses a kiss to my cheek. “My flight is waiting.”
“Thank you for coming, Inna,” our uncle says. “We can’t wait for you to join the St. Monarch’s family. I’ll have a family suite readied for you.”
My sister smiles brightly. “I’ll see you in two weeks.” Then she turns her attention to me. “Don’t kill any of the attendees during your last two weeks.”
“I’ll do my best,” I mutter, not making any promises. “I’ll walk you out.”
After leaving the office, Inna asks, “Is the meeting with Tshimaga still set for the end of the month?”
I nod, then say, “You don’t have to attend. I can handle it.”
Inna lets out an amused chuckle. “When will you stop trying to keep me from dealing with the rebels?”
“Never.” We reach the castle’s front doors, where we stop to finish the conversation. “Let me deal with the dangerous aspect of the business. Your children need you alive.”
Inna stares at me for a solid minute, and I’m just starting to think she’s going to tell me to go to hell when she nods. “If that’s what you want.”
My eyebrows fly up again. “Really? You’re agreeing?”
“Pfft.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t make a big deal of it. Like you said, my children need me.” She waves a hand at the foyer. “Besides, I’ll be busy here.”
Inna’s eyes lock on the stairs, and it has me glancing over my shoulder. Abigail is standing at the top of the staircase, her arms full with her paint supplies and her eyes locked on my sister.
“Anyway,” Inna murmurs, “I’ll see you soon. Don’t miss me too much.” She presses another kiss on my cheek, and we give each other a tight hug.
“Hold on a second.” I glance at Abigail, and not wanting any misunderstandings, I say, “Come meet my sister.”
Surprise flutters over her face, and she descends the stairs. With her arms full, the two women can’t shake hands, but Abigail smiles at Inna. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Abigail Sartori.”
Inna tilts her head, her eyes darting between Abigail and me, then she gives me a questioning look.
I nod, answering her unspoken question, and it makes her smile widely.
She turns her attention back to Abigail. “The pleasure is mine.”
My sister’s eyes drift over the bruises on Abigail’s face, but wisely she doesn’t comment on them.
“I wish I could stay, but my flight is waiting,” Inna says before she gives me a mischievous look. “I’ll call Mom and tell her the good news.”
The good news being Abigail. God help me. Mom will blow up my phone with her calls.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I grumble playfully. Inna just chuckles as she walks out of the castle.
I watch her climb into the back of an armored SUV, and only when the vehicle drives toward the gate do I turn around to find Abigail staring at me.
“What good news?” she asks.
I take the easel and canvas bag from her and start to walk toward the back of the castle. “Inna is taking over as combat instructor.”
“Oh.” I can feel Abigail’s eyes on me and meet her gaze as she asks, “When will you leave?”
“In two weeks.” “Oh.”
Christ, there’s no way I’ll be able to leave Abigail here.
Only when we step out of the side door and make our way to the waterfall do I say, “I think a vacation would do you a world of good.”
She lets out an empty-sounding chuckle. “If only miracles happened.”
I set the easel down, and Abigail moves it into the position she wants.
When she takes the canvas bag from me, she murmurs, “Thanks.”
My eyes are glued to her face as I blurt out the proposal, “Come home with me.”
Her gaze darts to my face, and she gapes at me. “What?”
Not wanting her to feel pressured, I quickly add, “Just for a short while. You’ll love the island, and you can paint to your heart’s delight. Take a break from St. Monarch’s and the pressures of life.”
“I…ahh…”
When uncertainty flashes over her face, I say, “You don’t have to give me an answer now. Think about it.”
Abigail nods, but she seems nervous as she places a blank canvas on the easel. Her eyes only dart to me for a second. “You don’t have to stay. I know you’re busy with work.”
Work can fucking wait.
Stepping closer, my tone is cautious when I mention, “I saw the black painting. Are you struggling to find inspiration?”
She lets out a miserable sigh. “I was just having a bad day.”
Wanting to distract her from her trauma, I take another step closer to her and ask, “Will you give me a painting lesson.”
The corner of her mouth lifts. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
Shrugging, I shove a hand in my pocket. “Explain what everything is for. Show me how you hold the brush. Start with the little things.”
A small smile plays around her lips as she nods. “Okay, but I can’t guarantee you’ll learn anything.”
I don’t care about that, moya lyubov’. I just want to spend time with you and offer a distraction from your demons.
Abigail starts to list all the equipment and shows me the right amount of paint to squirt on the palette.
When her brush touches the canvas, and she starts to paint, she falls silent, and soon I watch the image takes shape.
There are no blacks, but instead, vibrant colors, and I’m taking it as another win.