Nikolai
It’s done.
Over and fucking over, that useless thought comes to me.
It’s done.
I lost this round to win the war. I got two million dollars and a maid.
For Rose.
I lean back behind my desk and glare at the computer screen, the bottle of whiskey I’ve been drinking steadily two thirds gone. Swiping up my glass, I take a deep swallow, the warm honeyed edge tasting like dust. Then I top it up.
Fuck, I want to be drunk. Unfortunately, I’m not. The hole of dark in me gets danker by the second.
I did the right thing. I know that. needed to do it because nothing will be right until my uncle and aunt’s deaths are avenged, until the man responsible isn’t just brought to his knees. I want him stripped of everything.
Money. Power. Dignity. Life.
He needs to pay. His daughter? She’s caught in the crosshairs, an unfortunate innocent in a dirty game, and one who’s sunk into me. I’m hooked deep, down into my darkest desires, my basest needs. I’m not done with my beautiful Rose, not by a long shot. Yet I needed to fucking seem to burn bridges for my maid and a measly pile of money.
He has her, for now. She’s going to lead me to his lair, to his downfall, and then maybe I’ll fuck her boneless in front of him. I’ll take her ass, her mouth, fuck her so hard she screams and begs for more. I’ll tie her up, spank her, maybe even get myself a St. Andrews Cross and give her an erotic lesson in pleasure, pain, and humiliation, all in front of daddy.
Then I’ll take his fucking tongue and eyes, feed him his balls, followed by his dick.
Let him bleed out.
I down half my drink, keeping my gaze focused on that screen. An old antique clock ticks steadily behind me on the shelf. My door is shut, my feet stretched out under my desk. The tension in my stomach vibrates. A sickness coils inside, ripping at my guts.
I did what I had to do. The modified plan so we could get Sylvie back worked.
It’s not as if my little Rose is dangling alone off a cliff in the wind. I’ll have her back soon enough, and then I’ll have Derek’s secret lair, his darkest secrets, his army, power, money. I’ll have everything. I’ll be everything.
And he will die.
It’s a good plan, but-
It wasn’t until that fuck Finnegan stepped into my home, said that vile shit to my Rose, drugged my Rose, that I started to understand the cost. It’s huge, that cost, more than I ever imagined.
If I were a man with a soul and a heart, I’d almost be inclined to say it cost me a piece of them, but they’re a fucking fallacy, and she’s just a girl.
“Say it again, Rose. Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes, I want you to fuck me. More than anything.”
Was that the last conversation we had?
Music, her words; pure, unadulterated music. She wanted it with her blood, with everything her sweet, filthy innocence had.
Her tiny gasps of pleasure from my touch, my kisses, whisper about me. The smiles and sweep of happiness on her face when I gave her that bracelet resonate through my mind.
Her attempts at defiance. Her bursts of bratty exuberance and blunt questions. The anger and sadness. The way she could turn temptress and unsure virgin in seconds flat. None of it was a lie, and every part was compelling.
I’m not done with her, not at all.
I’m getting her back, along with everything I want. Then I’ll decide when to let her go. No doubt, it’ll be when she stops fascinating me, when I no longer crave her. A week? A month? Three? Maybe a year.
A dull throb starts somewhere deep in my chest at that thought.
It’s just lust, nothing more.
I have a job to do, and that fucking dot on the GPS hasn’t moved. Not since late last night, when it moved from Derek’s main compound to his lesser one, the one on a smaller property.
It’s not his hideaway, not unless he found all the trackers on her. Still, I have eyes on all his properties, and no one has left since four big, black SUVs drove into where the GPS sits static, blinking at me like a fuck you.
A rap on my door makes me swing my attention to the bottle, and I top up my glass. “Enter.”
Tony sidles in. He’s good at it, for such a big bruiser. He eyes the bottle, then me, but doesn’t say a word about it.
I might like Tony. He may be my number two in so many regards, but I’ll shoot him dead and deal with his wife, Mia, later if he dares voice whatever bullshit is in his head.
“Boss, I thought you should know the doctor’s finished with Sylvie.” “Gonna live?”
“Physically, she’s banged up, uh, torn a little, but yeah.” He doesn’t move. He clears his throat. “Mia suggested therapy.”
I stare at him, down the whiskey, and fill up the glass. The edges on me have yet to soften. What I need is another bottle. I point at the wet bar.
It’s a show of a good employee that Tony only hesitates a millisecond before getting me another. He clicks it down on my desk and removes the empty one. I’m pretty sure the eyeballing I give him is sour with extra sharp-edged knives.
“Do I look like a bleeding heart?” Then I wave my hand. “Whatever she needs, she can have it. Tickets out of here, therapy, money to set up elsewhere, a whole fucking new closet. Actually, nix that for a bit.”
“Nikolai?”
“When she’s up to it, do all that,” I say. “But first, I want a list of all the motherfuckers who touched her.”
He clears his throat. “Don’t think it was a wine and roses situation, boss.”
“Scars, voices, faces. Anyone who touched her will leave this world with an extra serving of pain.”
“Got it.” A small smile crosses his hard face, then fades. “Boss, Nikolai, I know this was hard.”
“We just took a different turn in the dance. It’s on track.”
“Finnegan’s not going to hurt his daughter.”
I laugh, but it’s ice. “He fucking will. Not in that way, I’m doubtful he’s that sick. She’s worth something to him on the market, and she’s a prize he’s wanted for so long-flesh and fucking blood and an heir maker. He’ll hurt her, tear her apart. He’s going to pay extra for every single harm he causes Rose.” Tony remains silent. I add, “He hasn’t moved.”
“Do you think he’s that stupid to think you’re going to take this and move on?”
“No.” The word is soft and contemplative as I pick up my glass, peering at the amber liquid in the light. “I think he’s arrogant enough and stupid enough to think I’m weak, that he can beat me now.”
“Arrogance like that is a weakness.” Tony nods. “Finnegan has caused too much trouble, but it’s also not worth my life or marriage to not pass on Mia’s message. She says your Rose is sweet, delicate, rare, but don’t forget that roses have thorns.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “I don’t need life lessons and metaphors from my employee. We’ll carry on with the plan. Derek can think he’s won. He gets sloppy when his arrogance hits a ten.”
I wave him away. When Tony’s gone, I finish the drink and pour another. Oblivion has never seemed more enticing or more out of reach. Pulling the computer closer, I reduce the GPS tracker and pull up the recording of Rose’s last minutes here.
When we watched it in the guardhouse, the live feed didn’t have sound. My recording does, and the things the fuck says to her are vile. I’m more than aware of the things I’ve said to her, how I’ve bent her to my will with threats and promises, but I know how to wring out pleasure, to reward.
If I could kill Finnegan and take all I wanted right now, I would. I know if I went in now, guns blazing, we’d walk away with a large chunk of it all and Finnegan’s head.
I don’t want a large chunk. I don’t want most.
I want it all. I want Finnegan to understand loss and pain and real impotence. I need to take it all from him, and I will.
I just never expected Rose, particularly not for Rose to be my Rose.
I knew I’d feel a modicum of loss and regret when he took her, but not that wrenching, gripping loss. Not…any of it.
I miss her.
All that back and forth with killing her had been mostly empty after I had a taste. Still, to not want to kill her and miss her are different things, different worlds.
She got in. Deep. I miss it. Her.
Those kitten claws. The fights. The challenges. The compliances. How she fucking looked at me like I was her world.
Right now, I see the way everything rushes from her. Even before he hits her, she looks like he punched her hard. Her beautiful face dims, her eyes go dark, and fuck.
I’m just not done yet. I need to keep her on my string. A little tricky, but doable.
Even from here, it’s doable because I didn’t ever let her go without a way in. Men like Derek don’t inspire loyalty. No, they feed on fear, luring in degenerates and twisted fucks, but never with loyalty, not the true loyalty like my cousin Rush, like Tony and Mia and my men. I’ll kill as soon as look at someone, but do right by me, and I reward it. The game is simple.
With a sigh, I pick up my phone, eye on the screen as I press call. “In here. Now.”
Fuck. I rewind the video. That moment where he takes her down, where he grabs her, sticks a needle in her to flood her with drugs, and flashes her ass to the world makes rage ignite inside me. My hand forms a fist, knuckles going white.
He flashes that hot little ass in my shirt, letting men hold her, see it.
“Niko?”
I flick an irritated gaze at the door as Rush steps in. “Nikolai.”
He has the audacity to look at the bottle, the audacity to shake his head, to get a glass to pour some himself. He sits opposite me, one foot on one knee as he takes a swallow. “Enjoying your nasty little plans, Niko?”
“Nikolai.” I’m not in the fucking mood, even if none of this is Rush’s fault.
He sighs. “You need to be okay with this. Get your head in the game, or let me know if we’re going to go in and take him down now-”
“No. I want the lair. His real contacts, the deep ones, all his money and assets and territories.”
“And her.”
I just look at him. “You still have that man?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you sure he’s trustworthy?”
Rush shrugs. “No one much likes Finnegan, him most of all. He does it for…reasons, and I can get word to him since they’re at Hawke’s Hollow.”
“Only a stupid fuck names his properties stupid ass names,” I mutter. Okay, maybe an edge is starting to soften, but not enough. I’m not leaving this spot until I’m drunk enough that I won’t get up and shoot the motherfucker dead.
“What do you want, Niko- Nikolai?”
I reach down and pick up the slender box from the exclusive hothouse I like. It was delivered a few hours ago, and now, just now, I’ve decided to do it.
He takes it from me and opens it, looking at the gorgeous red rose.
“I want you to make sure that’s delivered to the relevant party. If it takes a few days, get a fresh one. You know where. The supplier is waiting if you need one.”
For her.
My Rose.