by Zoe Blake
I took a long swig of beer. The cold sting of the bitter hops matched my mood.
Taking a step back, I raised my arm and threw the still full bottle straight at the window. Brown shards of glass cascaded down onto the polished oak floor as thick foam coated the starburst cracks in the window before slithering down to pool in an amber puddle at my feet.
I’d lost her today.
The woman I thought about every waking moment, obsessing over her happiness and safety. The woman I couldn’t imagine not being in my life, even if it meant watching from the outside in. The woman I loved.
She was gone.
She was never really mine to lose, but that didn’t stop me from discouraging any man who tried from dating her. Like a selfish bastard, I refused to claim her as my own, but also refused to allow anyone else the privilege. I even went so far as to threaten to kill the one man who dared ask her on a third date, making him leave the District and never contact her again.
I had forced her to live in this perpetual space of suspended affection. Treating her like a possession too treasured to be touched, too vulnerable not to be locked away behind high walls and armed guards I controlled. Fuck, I had even argued against her having her own apartment and leaving the safety of her brother’s house, knowing it would lead to more independence and weaken my hold on her.
Today, when we were in that cathedral, watching her brother get married, something inside of me broke. I couldn’t help thinking what a beautiful bride Nadia would make. I could imagine her belly swollen with our child. I was seeing a life I knew I shouldn’t even dare to want play out before my eyes and, God forgive me, I wanted it. I wanted her.
Unable to resist any longer, I’d seized her to me. Held her in my arms and finally claimed those soft lips which had haunted my dreams. The sound of her moans as she clung to me almost had me tearing at the fastening of my trousers to free my cock. I was a man possessed, ready to tempt hell by fucking her against the sacred walls of a church.
When I forced myself to let go of her, I could see something die within her bright blue eyes. A spark vanished. Hope died. I had done that. I had killed that beautiful light within her eyes.
Then, for the rest of the night, I had to watch as she flirted and danced with one guest after another at the wedding. I knew what she was doing. She was taunting me. Deliberately trying to hurt me as I had hurt her. It had worked. It was all I could do not to pull out my gun and shoot each one of them between the eyes for even daring to look at her, let alone touch her.
It was a relief when she retired to her room early.
We had decided before the wedding that the safest security plan would be to have the immediate family stay at Gregor’s home for the rest of the weekend till the even more questionable attendees had returned to their countries. It would not be a great hardship for the family; Gregor owned a twelve-bedroom house. At least I knew Nadia wouldn’t dare take her revenge flirtations too far under his roof. For now, she was safely tucked into bed in one of the guest rooms.
Weddings were an excellent cover for making illicit deals. It had always been an Ivanov tradition to conduct such business dealings at these occasions, and Gregor’s own wedding would be no exception. Three rival third-world dignitaries had all arrived as guests, intending to bulk up their arsenals against each other. It was because of them and other shady business associates that we'd had to beef up security. It would have been an insult not to invite them to the head of the Ivanov crime family’s wedding, but that didn’t mean they were wanted guests. The sooner they left, the better.
There was also the unresolved issue with the Novikoffs. Gregor was worried they may still try to cause trouble, despite a confirmed sighting of their patriarch Egor in Moscow just yesterday. Thankfully, the wedding went off without a hitch.
I turned to get another beer and stopped. Something pricked at the back of my mind.
Safely tucked into bed in a guest room?
Was it possible after an entire evening of deliberately trying to bait me by dancing with other men, she had just slipped off to bed like a good girl?
Fuck.
I slammed my palm against a partially obscured button which controlled a hidden panel in the living room. A sliding door concealed behind the sofa silently opened. When I purchased the penthouse, I made a few modifications to the floor plan. Doing the contract work myself, so there were no permits or witnesses, I had sealed off one of the extra bedrooms. Now the only way to enter the space was through a small doorway I'd cut into the wall behind the sofa. After shoving the furniture aside, I bent low and slipped inside.
I devoted half of the room to a small selection of handguns: a SIG Sauer P220, Para 1911 G.I. Expert, a customized M1911 with suppressor and a Smith & Wesson 629 with a weapon light. For bigger fire power, I had a Glock 17 fitted with a CornerShot system and, of course, a Heckler & Koch MP5K. These were just for quick access. The real stuff, like the Browning M2Hb and Type 69 Rocket Launcher, I kept in a secure but nondescript storage container in Virginia.
The other half of the room was dominated by three large computer screens. I connected them to an 8Pack OrionX. With an insanely fast processor and state-of-the-art motherboard, the designers had built it to accommodate the high video graphic needs of gamers, which made it ideal for the type of surveillance software I ran. After I entered the thirteen-digit code, the computer hummed to life.
Working off its default protocols, the computer immediately brought up my priority surveillance project: codename Kroshka.
As the screens glowed to life, I scanned the many camera angles.
Her brothers knew of my surveillance. Nadia did not. I was sure she would be madder than hell if she knew we’d been watching over her, even after she’d left her brother’s. She’d wanted her independence and having this small apartment gave her a sense of that. But that didn’t mean I stopped protecting her. I would never stop protecting her.
I wasn’t a complete asshole about it. I had cameras throughout her jewelry store and the back work area, and the entrance and exits. Beside the front street and back parking area. All the security hot spots. Everything else was off limits, including her entire apartment. Although even with those limited camera angles, I still had learned a great deal about her.
How she curled up in a ball like a little kitten whenever she fell asleep on that beat-up old secondhand sofa next to her workbench that she loved. How she twirled her hair when she was nervous or trying to concentrate. The way she wrinkled her nose when a piece of jewelry she was working on wasn’t cooperating. How she blushed when a customer complimented her designs.
Anxiously, I clicked on the command to shuffle through the various security screens.
All seemed quiet.
Her cellphone was plugged in on the tiny shelf near the cash register.
That meant she was somewhere on property, not at her brother’s house like she was supposed to be. The cellphone screen was dark. Since she usually played music on it whenever she was home or in the jewelry store, I assumed the battery was dead.
I continued to click through the security screens, searching for her. If I didn’t set eyes on her, it meant she was up in her apartment. Either way, I was going to head over there and drag her back to her brother’s.
Finally, I found her.
She had changed out of her bridesmaid’s gown into one of her babydoll dresses with a pair of bright pink Doc Martens. She was alone, tinkering with something at her workbench.
I shifted to the next screen, which showed the outside of her jewelry shop.
I watched as a large SUV with no plates pulled up. Three men dressed all in black got out. Two had ski masks over their faces, and one of them was tucking a handgun into his waistband.
Fuck.
She was completely unaware of the coming danger. Without access to her cellphone and no landline, I had no way to warn her to get out.
I was down in the garage and behind the wheel of my Maserati Levante SUV in le
ss than two minutes. It would take me three excruciating minutes to reach Nadia. Thank God she was only two blocks away on a small side street between M and Prospect. The usual Washington bottleneck traffic would be nonexistent at this early hour in the morning. I also knew no District cop would dare pull me over. They knew my car and were paid well to look the other way.
I hit the steering wheel with my fist.
Goddamn it.
I had been a bastard and a fool. Honor be damned. The time for just standing in the background and watching Nadia from afar was over. I was finally going to claim her as mine.
Chapter 9
Nadia
I had made a complete fool of myself tonight.
I rolled the sterling silver sculpting clay between my palms, warming it. Reaching for a heart mold, I pressed the clay into the thin cookie-cutter-like metal frame. The heel of my boot slipped off the footrest on my stool. My feet felt clunky and heavy in my usual Doc Martens after spending the day in strappy high heels. In my maudlin mood, I took it as a sign I should be leaving my old self behind. I’d worn babydoll dresses and Doc Martens since I was a teenager. Maybe it was time to not only give up my schoolgirl crush but my schoolgirl ways as well.
My schoolgirl crush.
The champagne I’d drunk earlier soured as my stomach twisted into knots.
Did I truly believe Mikhail was just a meaningless crush?
Did it matter what I believed?
Mikhail wasn’t going to change his mind about us. He had made the decision long ago without even allowing me a say in the matter.
I shook my head as I closed my hand into a fist and pounded on the sterling silver clay, shoving it into the mold with more force than necessary. Tomorrow I would be sad about the death of my hopes for a relationship with Mikhail, but tonight I was still angry.
He had rejected me—again.
And like an idiot I tried to make him jealous at the party following the wedding. Dancing with any man who asked, drinking champagne, laughing too hard and loud at every comment or joke.
It was a waste of time.
I didn’t catch him looking in my direction once.
He didn’t care.
I picked up a knife and held it aloft over the heart charm before making deep slash marks. If I wasn’t so hurt right now, I’d realize Mikhail had always been brutally honest. He didn’t want a relationship with me. His job was more important than what we could potentially have together. It was clear to me now. I’d probably imagined all the heated looks and restrained movements over the years. He probably didn’t even give a damn about any of the guys I tried to date, if he noticed at all. That one guy who disappeared probably did so because I bored him to death with talk of movies I liked and jewelry making, not because of anything Mikhail did or said.
I reached for the heated brick and primed my gas torch. As I sparked a flame, I thought again how I had badly flirted with all those men tonight. Even Yelena noticed and pulled me aside to ask if I was having a seizure. Apparently, my attempts at flirting resembled someone in dire need of medical attention. Perfect. I tried to tell her I was finally embracing my inner lioness, a reference to my zodiac sign. She just shook her head and said lionesses don’t laugh like hyenas on crack and returned to the dance floor where Damien was waiting with an impatient look on his face.
Reaching to my right, I turned the knob on the light switch to dim the lights low in my work area. I found it easier to monitor the firing of silver charms if I wasn’t in bright glaring light.
I was breaking a rule right now. I had dared to leave my brother’s house to return to my own apartment to get some work done. Everyone would be furious. I shook my head at how ridiculous that sounded. My family would be angry with me for leaving a party a little early and returning home. That was how stifled and supervised my life was, and I was sick of it.
This jewelry shop was supposed to give me a measure of independence from my family and my brothers’ business interests. Technically my brothers owned the standalone building that housed both my shop and my apartment, but that was only because of tax issues and shell company nonsense. This business was mine in every other respect, and I was damn proud of it.
I adjusted the gas torch and directed the hot blue flame over the heart in slow sweeping circles. The taupe-colored clay smoked as orange and red flames flashed. The cellulose binder slowly burned away. Eventually, the heart heated to a bright salmon pink. Picking up the piece with a pair of tweezers, I placed it in a small dish of water next to my heat brick. Usually, I loved the moment when a small ball of clay seemingly by magic turned into a piece of metal but not tonight.
Tonight, I was thinking about Mikhail and my family and my life—and how things needed to change. Now, before it was too late. If I didn’t do something drastic to break away from my family and Mikhail’s hold over me, I’d find myself the spinster aunt looking after my nieces and nephews with no children or husband or independent life of my own.
Impulsively, I reached for my cellphone and brought up my contacts. Massimo Agnello’s number shown bright white against the dark view background. Biting my lip and blaming the slight buzz I was still feeling from all the champagne, I texted him.
Busy? Want to come over?
Fuck, that was stupid. What if my number was no longer in his phone? It had been over a year since he asked me out on a date, and I said no because I heard Mikhail’s voice in the other room and panicked. He probably didn’t even have my number saved in his phone anymore. Fuck, it was crazy early in the morning. He was probably sleeping or worse, with someone. This was so stupid. I didn’t want to meet up with Massimo. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself I was over him, I still wanted Mikhail. I still loved Mikhail.
Sorry, this is Nadia. Ignore my text. I’m a little drunk and—
The screen went black. My phone died.
Great, I rolled my eyes as I stomped over to the cashier counter and plugged my phone in. Since it was ages old and way past an upgrade, I knew it would take forever to charge, so I wouldn’t even know if Massimo saw my text or his response for at least twenty minutes.
Returning to my workbench, I pulled the charm out of the water and reached for the old and scuffed hairdryer I kept plugged in nearby. For larger pieces the sterling silver would need to cool overnight, but this charm was small enough to use a hairdryer. Over the loud hum of the hairdryer, I thought I heard a dull thump. Turning off the hairdryer, I looked around but all was quiet and still in my shop. It was then I noticed the rather ostentatious black SUV which had just parked out in front. The thud must have been the car door.
My heart seized.
Had Gregor or Damien— or worse, Mikhail — noticed I had lied about going upstairs to bed and actually come to drag me back?
I breathed a sigh of relief. They had numerous cars, but I knew them all, and this particular SUV wasn’t one of them. Considering the extremely late — or early depending on perspective — hour, it was reasonable to think I had gotten away with my little rebellion. They probably all believed I was safely tucked up in bed. There would be hell to pay tomorrow, but I would worry about that later.
Without another thought, I returned to my work. Setting the hairdryer aside, I picked up a piece of extra fine sandpaper and gently sanded the slightly clouded charm till it had a bright silver shine. With a start, I stared down at the charm as if it had been made by someone else’s hand instead of my own. The small heart was perfectly formed and very pretty, except for the angry jagged line straight down the middle.
I had created a broken heart.
My head jerked to the side as I heard two more loud thuds. Two more men got out of the SUV. These men had dark ski masks covering their faces.
Oh God!
I stood up and started to back away as I scanned my workbench looking for a weapon. I reached for a small blade I used for fine etching and my butane torch, but on second thought, I put the torch down. I didn’t want to accidentally burn down my own bel
oved shop. I picked up a heavy hammer I used to achieve the pounded metal look on some charms.
I glanced to the left where my phone was still plugged in several steps away. Where I was near the workbench, I was still in the shadows, but if I dared to reach for the phone, I would be visible inside the shop because of the bluish white glow from the streetlamps outside.
Did I dare?
Maybe they weren’t here for me? Maybe they would keep walking?
The men approached the glass door of my shop. One of them shielded his eyes and pressed his forehead against the glass, peering inside.
I held my breath as my grip on the metal blade turned sweaty.
Was I in shadow enough? I had dimmed the light over my workbench but there was still a soft glow. Maybe he wouldn’t see anything worth stealing and move on. I emptied all the glass cases of any jewelry at the end of each night so there was nothing of value visible.
Nothing of value except for me.
My brothers repeatedly used the threat of my being kidnapped as leverage to get me to abide by their strict rules. They even tried to get me to accept additional security and surveillance equipment at my shop and apartment, but I refused, not wanting to live my life under constant watch and desperately needing at least a little bit of independence.
Hindsight being twenty/twenty, I realized how stupid and naïve I was being. It wasn’t like I didn’t know that kidnapping was a real possibility. My own best friends had experienced it. Yet, it still didn’t seem possible. I was the Ivanov brothers’ invisible little sister. A nobody. Who would want to kidnap me?
The man peering inside stepped back.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank God. They were leaving.
The man raised his arm, and that is when I saw the crowbar.