46

Mikhail
I stumble into the penthouse and plow into a small pedestal, ignoring the hand blown vase that crashes to the floor. I step on the shards of red and blue glass in my path, breathing unevenly as I move forward. Blood stains my hands and the sleeves of my jacket. A reminder of the life I just took. A bitter taste fills my mouth, and I hate the world. The adrenaline isn’t gone yet.
“Mikhail!” Maria sucks in her breath. “What happened to you?” She sits on the floor, a large glossy book open under her fingertips. She is motionless as she stares at me, taking in my wrecked and ruined appearance.
“Nothing,” I snap, staggering down the hallway past her.
But Maria won’t listen. Instead, she follows, pestering me with questions.
“What happened?” she insists.
Where’s Dominika to take her away?
“Maria, stop!” My hands shake with anger and she trips over her feet, coming to an abrupt stop. Her eyes are wide as she watches me round on her. I lean toward her and whisper, “Leave me alone.”
I continue down the hallway past my office into the depths of the penthouse. Maria quietly follows at a short distance, never losing sight of me. I don’t hold the metal door open that leads down to the next level. It doesn’t stop her. The door swings open as I enter the floor below it.
The Olympic-size pool greets me, and my eyes lock on the expanse of shimmering blue. The lights are dimmed, and the night outside is a backdrop against the windows. I stand there for a moment, looking at the blood on my hands and clothes. The red stains splattering the cuffs of my white shirt will soon turn a deep brown. I glance down at the insignia ring I wear, the ring my father gave me when Desmier died.
This was never supposed to be mine … I think those bitter words again and again.
Without thought, I stretch my arms as I move through the air. In one fluid motion, my body slices the air above the water, and I close my eyes. I let the hate rush out of my body as I move through nothingness into the calm water. A symphony of splashes erupts in my path as the cool water clutches me. Beneath the surface, I open my eyes and swim down to the bottom, eyeing the bright blue tiles that line the pool.
My hand reaches out as I touch the bottom. Desmier would’ve beaten me to the bottom if he were still alive. He always did.
The man I killed wouldn’t give me names, and I was in no mood to back down tonight. I told him he was a fool to take someone else’s place. But he refused to talk, and then slowly … gradually, as I tightened my grip, I made sure he wouldn’t talk again.
He stared into my eyes as he took his last breath.
I surface, shaking my head and sending drops of water out in an arc. I shake harder, trying to dispel the image of the dead man’s gaze from my thoughts. But it clings like a stubborn shadow, refusing to let go. I slick my hair back out of my eyes. My clothes cling to my body, and his blood forms a dark halo around me.
Someone gasps, and I submerge again, quickly washing my sins away. I pull off my shoes as I drift toward the bottom. And then bob awkwardly as I pull off my pants and boxers. The shirt buttons are the hardest to open, slick and slippery, so I yank at my shirt until the fabric tears and I’m free of it.
The water guides me up as I give in to it. I let it take me back to the surface, taking in deep, greedy breaths as I run a hand over my face. Only then do I look toward the end of the pool and see her.
Maria stands still, watching me but saying nothing. She doesn’t have to say a word-her eyes tell me everything I need to know.
“Do you swim?” I ask.
Maria looks at me as if I’m a madman. She bites her lip, debating whether or not to walk toward the edge of the pool. Her lip quivers. “I don’t have a suit,” she finally says as a tinge of pink rushes on her face.
I laugh as the remnants of my torn shirt float away in the water.
I can already guess what she’s calling me in her head.
Asshole.
“We’re alone, Maria.” I sweeten my voice with charm. “You don’t need a suit.”
Maria frowns at me, but the pool is too tempting. The long stretch of water is tinted blue by the reflection of the glazed tiles surrounding every surface. Slowly, she pulls off her shirt and pants, and I fight to hold back a gasp of appreciation upon seeing her body.
In the dim light, she looks perfect, like an angel tossed down from heaven to live among the dirty mortals.
Leaving her bra and panties on, she dives in. Her body forms a perfect arc as the water parts and swallows her. She surfaces a few feet from me, her auburn hair dark and wet against her back.
The water turns her cotton bra and panties translucent. I swipe my tongue over my lips, tasting her in my mind again.
“Are you okay?” she says.
“I will be.” I shrug. “I had something to do.”
She stares at me as she treads water. Her eyes are on me as if she can spot a lie.
“It had nothing to do with you,” I assure her. “It’s late. Why aren’t you in bed?”
She swims toward the edge but doesn’t climb out. “I don’t know,” she says softly. “I guess I wanted to know that you were coming back.”
“Why?” I smirk. “Are you afraid that one day I won’t?”
She looks away and rests her chin on the edge of the pool, letting her body float in the water. She looks out the massive window, and I catch her reflection studying me. She’s staring at me openly in a way she avoids when we stand face-to-face. And I feel my heartbeat quicken when our eyes lock through the window.
Finally, she looks away.
“I should hate you because of what you do,” she says. “But I worry about you too. Because I can tell that you’re not that person deep inside.” She turns around. “Did they turn you into that person?”
I swim into the deep end, allowing my body to sink into the water. The water presses against my ears, blocking out sound as a feeling of loss takes me over. I lack anyone to turn to, not even Larissa. I’ve never felt more alone than I do right now. The water gives me solace as bubbles escape my mouth to the surface, and I let the tranquility of the moment soothe me.
I’m so close when a hand wraps around mine and pulls me upward. Maria guides me to the pool’s edge and I grab onto the ledge, gasping for breath. As I look up, Maria meets my gaze, her eyes clouded with worry.
Despite the tangible tension between us, an undeniable connection lingers, pulling us together even when we try to push each other away. Maria looks expectant, waiting for me to say something, to explain what I was trying to accomplish.
“You had a controlling father too,” I tell her. “We’re not that different. Would you go running back?”
She flinches at my words and tries to swim away, but I don’t let her. My legs trap hers like a vise, and she splashes in the water. Her body wriggles against mine, warm and inviting, but I keep myself in check. Right now, I just want to talk.
“Tell me the truth,” I whisper.
Maria’s gaze softens, and she seems to deflate, her shoulders slumping. “You took me because you needed me,” she admits quietly. “And I stay because I’m too afraid to leave.”
I nod at her honesty. “You shouldn’t be afraid of me …”
“It’s not you.” Maria shakes her head. “I’m afraid of the future. Right now, you control it.” She stares at the dark night behind the glass. “And I know I am being selfish. I know that if you don’t come home …”
I pull her into my arms, cutting off her confession. She turns to me, her large hazel eyes shifting colors in the dim light. “You don’t have to be a killer, Mikhail,” she says softly, looking into my eyes.
My hand tightens on her arm. “It’s my responsibility.”
“No, you want to do it,” she says. “One day, you’re not going to switch back.”
The atmosphere between us is tense and oppressive, like a blinding fog that won’t disappear. I feel the unease radiating off Maria, yet she remains close. She wraps her arms around my shoulders as the water floats us away from the edge. Our legs are still entwined and she holds onto me, trusting I won’t let her go. Maria could swim away, but she lets me hold her instead.
“What happened tonight?” Her voice is gentle yet insistent. “I want to understand.”
“Maria,” I warn. “You don’t.”
“We’re going to be married, aren’t we?” she asks. “Don’t you think I deserve to understand? To share your burdens?” She pauses. “And if my father is a traitor, won’t you want me to understand why it might be necessary for you to …”
She can’t finish the words, but I’m shocked that she has even allowed them to take shape. And in that moment, with her settling so perfectly in my lap in the water, I allow myself to believe her.
I gaze into her eyes and wonder how long the innocence will remain after she learns the facts. How the Bratva operates apart from accepted society.
The truth is like a bitter poison on my tongue, but it needs to be said.
And there’s no one who can say it better than… me.