Nikolai
There’s another slip in her room. I haven’t decided if I’m going to let her keep wearing it, or if I’ll have delicious Rosalind naked unless otherwise necessary.
The party is done, its purpose served, and Rosalind is back in her room.
Instead of joining her there, I’m sitting on my sofa in my bedroom, in front of the roaring fireplace, the crackle of the popping wood relaxing. I tap my lowball of whiskey against the leather arm of my chair, scowling at the flames.
Maybe I took things too far, fingering her like that, forcing her to finish in a room full of strangers. I want it known that she’s mine, that I have my enemy’s daughter. She enjoyed every second I fucked her with my fingers, too. No, it’s that I’m so fucking turned on, I’m uncomfortable. I fucking want her. I’m going to have her eventually, in all the ways there are.
But not yet.
That’s why I sent her up with Mia. She looks small, meek, but she’s married to Tony, my biggest muscle on staff. People overlook him, write him off as brawn. That’s a mistake. He’s fucking smart, my longest friend, and the most loyal among us. Mia is just like Tony, which is why they work as a pair. She runs this house, picks the staff for more than just their cleaning abilities. I think the maid is more scared of invoking Mia’s wrath than mine.
I didn’t want another male touching Rose, so Mia was the logical choice.
Rose’s dress and heels are on the end of my king-sized bed, courtesy of Mia. Rose, on the other hand, is locked up and free to wear the slip or be naked.
There’s a knock at my door and Rush lets himself in, his tie askew, jacket God knows where. He doesn’t say anything, just moves to my bar cart and pours himself a drink.
Leaning against the wall and taking a sip of his whiskey, he smirks at me over the glass. “Really, dude? At the party?”
I roll my eyes. “Watch it, Rush. Not in the mood, not even for you.” He sprawls in the chair opposite and palms his glass. “Yeah, okay, sorry.
But… really?”
“What?”
“I was there. You fingered her.” Rush just looks at me, like I did something wrong. “Don’t know who else worked it out, but it was pretty fucking obvious to me. They all probably worked out who she is, and-”
“I was there,” I say quietly, interrupting his rant. “You don’t need to give me a play-by-play.”
Rush runs his hand over his chin. I take a large swallow of my drink, trying to take the edge off the need that’s running rampant through me. I’m trying not to think of how the cure for this aching need is upstairs, wearing nothing but a slip, more sheer, thinner than the last.
Fuck. I drain my glass, leaning forward to the coffee table where the whiskey bottle sits to fill my glass again. I take another deep swallow, which Rush takes as an opportunity to speak again.
“This is dangerous, Nikolai.”
I grunt my acknowledgement. “I’m aware.”
“Are you? Because you really got off on that.”
I half smile. “Quite the opposite, actually. She got off, not me.”
“Du- Nikolai. Shit.” He takes a sip and sits forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I know we’ve talked about this, but now that you’ve set this in motion, I gotta ask-”
“No, you don’t.”
His eyes narrow. “What’re your plan for this girl? She’s innocent, and we both know it.”
I sit forward too, meeting his glare head on. “So was your mother.” “Nikolai,” he sighs, taking a deep swallow of his drink while I do the same. “You can’t kill her.”
I snort in defiance. “Why not?”
“I’m sure there’s some New Testament line about two wrongs, or something.”
I laugh. “More Old Testament, if we’re going with bible references, which is weird.” I don’t believe in a God, and I sure as shit don’t believe in good. I’ve clawed my way up from the bottom, and I have my own code of honor, one where neither a church or its teachings are involved.
He has a point about killing her, though. I know, I toyed with the idea, but that was in pure anger. When it comes down to it, killing an innocent girl? With a shrug, I sip my drink. “I probably won’t kill her.”
“Probably?”
I roll my eyes, loath to give a firm committal. “Since when are you so interested in what I do?” There’s a warning in my voice, which, if I know Rush, will be ignored.
He tops up his drink and leans his hand on his thigh as he looks at me. “Since you started kidnapping beauty queens.”
I smirk. “Only one, and she’s the daughter of the enemy.” I take a swallow of my whiskey, savoring the heat building in my throat. The edge, unfortunately, is still there. Something tells me, short of getting blind drunk, that edge isn’t shifting or softening any time soon. “Our enemy.” I toy with my glass a moment, shifting it between my hands, the cool slickness a balm against the fever in my blood.
Rush looks at me with almost an understanding in his eyes. “I know. I hate him too.”
I smirk again, truly confused about what’s happening here. “Thought you didn’t give a fuck about the daughter? What happened to enjoying this kind of thing?”
He breathes out, sips, and shrugs. “I’m… I had time to think. Saw how you are with her, too.” Rush doesn’t elaborate. Smart guy. “I want him dead, to suffer, but not at risk to us. I’m not you.”
I internally groan; I can read between the lines. He doesn’t care about her. He cares about me. I’m not into retreats, though, and I won’t be stopping this plan. I know who and what the fuck I am. “You want to know exactly what I plan to do? If my plans have changed?”
Rush doesn’t let this opportunity slip by, answering me immediately. “Yes.”
I nod and meet his eye. “I’m going to break her, Rush. Make her mine, then send the evidence to her father.”
Rush puts his glass down and rises, pacing in front of the fireplace. “Nikolai. It’s one thing to have her, toy with her, show she’s here, but to break her and hand over evidence to her father is a good plan in your head. You said you want to show she’s yours, not bring extra wrath. That’s madness.”
I snort, setting down my drink and standing to face my cousin. “I’m not fucking scared of that scumbag Finnegan. It’s not your job to think about this. You don’t get to weigh in. Your job is to follow orders.”
For a moment, he seems about to argue, but Rush’s gaze moves over me, and he just nods in response. “You’re right. Not my business.” He takes his drink and walks to the door, then pauses. “Nikolai?”
I turn, giving him my full attention, wordlessly urging him to continue.
“You know I’ll follow you, that I’ll support you.”
I meet his gaze. “I’ve never questioned your loyalty.”
He puts his hand on the knob. “Don’t get dead. Finnegan’s dangerous. You have scruples, fucked up ones, but… scruples. He does not.”
I nod, acknowledging what Rush is saying, even if I think it’s fucking stupid. “I’m well aware of who and what he is. When there’s war, he’ll start it, officially. Then I can take him out.”
“No scruples, remember?”
“Rush,” I say quietly. “Don’t mistake my love for you as weakness. Don’t mistake my own code as something that will topple me. I’m far deadlier than Finnegan, and now I have his daughter. I will destroy him.” “And her?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow up softly.
“Not our concern once her job is done. Goodnight,” I dismiss him with a wave of my hand. He nods and opens the door, closing it behind him as he retreats to the hall.
Fuck. I sit once more, closing my eyes and leaning back in my chair. The fizz of erotic energy in my blood thrums louder. She shouldn’t get to me. I’ve had pretty women before, I’ve felt the rush of lust. I don’t know a thing about her that should draw me to her like this, apart from how she’s smart and strong and wily. Innocent and untouched. Both hates me and wants me. Those are things I don’t need hours of conversation for. I’m not fucking interested in hours of conversation. Fucking, yes. Conversing, no.
Finishing my drink, I stand. Maybe I need… I don’t finish the thought. Instead, I let my legs carry me out the door and up the stairs. It’s like something is driving me, some unseen force pushing me towards her, and I pull the key from my pocket. I pause as soft sounds leak through the door.
A stillness comes over me. She’s crying.
With a deep breath, I push the key into the lock and turn it, opening the door. My shadow falls long on the shaft of light from the hall. On the bed, her shoulders stiffen, and she slowly sits up, but doesn’t look at me. It’s like she was expecting me. Her voice is horse as she speaks. “Can we speak honestly?”
I smile. “Always do.”
“Without… retribution?”
“Like an amnesty?” I don’t step inside. If I do, I’m going to end up doing what I said I wouldn’t: taking her before its time. Or worse. Holding her.
Why I’d want to hold her isn’t clear.
Why I’m up here isn’t clear.
Weeping fucking women don’t tend to grab my empathy. Plus, she’s stronger than she seems. Still…
Maybe it’s lust. The need for her still zings inside me, that pent up frustration from being inside her tight, wet heat, from touching that sweet cunt, and not getting my own rocks off in the most elemental way. But while that did drive me here, there’s something else, knocking at the edges and muddying the waters.
“Sure, Rose. Why not?”
“You’re not letting me out.” She says it as a statement, not a question, like she’s accepted it.
“I said I’d think about it.”
“Don’t bullshit me.” Her shoulders bunch up, then relax as if through will power alone. I can see her clench the bedsheets with one hand. “Have you come to finish the job?”
“Rose.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, her voice lashing out violently at me.
“I’ll call you anything I fucking want.” I’m starting to get angry now; I didn’t come here for pushback.
She pushes out a breath of air and the sound wraps about me like a hug. “Are you here to finish the job?”
“No,” I say, not needing to even think about my words. “But I will, and when that happens, it’s not going to be a job. You’re going to want it, desperately.”
A small shudder passes through her. “No.”
I smirk at her, pressing on past her ill-constructed barriers. “You are going to want me, plead for me to take you, maybe even on your hands and knees. You’re going to give yourself to me, willingly. But we’re not there yet.”
“You really are a bastard,” she says softly, head hanging low.