If Sergei wanted to fight me on it, I’d sharpen my daggers and prepare for war.
If Lexi wanted to fight me on it, I’d just have to get her as addicted to me as I was to her.
And if Sergei wanted to renege on our deal…well, it wasn’t the end of the world. I would handle it. Owning the majority of shares in Kozlov Industries was supposed to keep my family financially comfortable for a long time, specifically my parents. I hadn’t been involved in family matters the way I should have been over the years, and I guess you could say this was a small way I was trying to make up for it. But I’d figure something else out if Sergei changed his mind.
The whole thing was Sergei’s fault anyway. He’d thrust Lexi upon me—thrown her at me. He’d made demands of her, played on her loyalties. The man had no one to blame but himself for forcing me to fall in love with his daughter.
Lexi suddenly jerked in her sleep.
Propping myself up on my elbow, I watched with growing concern as her face crumpled with strain, her forehead marred with creases. Her words from the night before came back to me as sweat broke out at her hairline. Then her entire body started shivering, like she was cold. It was slight at first, though the shaking became more violent with every second that passed.
I couldn’t take seeing her like that.
Whatever nightmare had her trapped in her own fear, I wanted to banish it from her mind forever.
Placing my hand on her shoulder, I gently shook her. “Hey, legs, wake up.”
She didn’t. As her body became wracked with shakes, she started murmuring incoherent words, her body flailing in distress. “Help,” she whispered, eyes still closed. “Please, help me.”
It was almost eerie how young she sounded. As if she actually were her seven-year-old self again, trapped inside a blazing building, pinned beneath a heavy wooden beam that was slowly burning her flesh. It enraged the fuck out of me and broke my heart in two all at the same time.
“Someone help me! Please! Anyone! I’m in here!”
She was screaming the words now, and I was at a loss for what to do. When she started sobbing uncontrollably, I’d had enough. I pulled her writhing body into mine and placed my mouth right at her ear.
“Lexi, wake up. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re not back there. There’s no fire and no cold. You’re safe.”
Her body stilled, as if all the strength fled her limbs at the sound of my voice. Her back was to my front, so I couldn’t see her face, but I felt her body becoming more and more aware.
“Nico?”
“Yeah, legs.” Pushing hair off her neck, I kissed the feverish skin over her pounding pulse point. “It’s me. I’m here.”
She sucked in a breath. “I—I’m sorry. I tried to warn you.” She sounded humiliated.
That shit’s not going to fly.
“Hey,” I chided. “I told you I’d be here, didn’t I? I’m not going to let you suffer inside your own hell while I’m around.”
It took her a moment, but she eventually sank against me and pulled my arms tighter around her. I smiled like the biggest dork against her hair. Feeling so content in that moment made me an asshole, considering the fact that she had just woken from a terrifying nightmare. But I couldn’t help it.
Lexi needed me.
My woman needed her man to comfort her and make her feel safe. She welcomed my offer of protection—wanted it. It was actually helping her.
Maybe I’m not totally worthless in this life.
Maybe my entire existence hadn’t been such a waste. Because if the only reason I’d been put on this earth was to eventually help this woman, then that was the greatest calling I could ever imagine. There was no better purpose than that.
“What about your hell, Nico?” she whispered.
My eyes shuttered. I knew the questions were bound to come. Especially after she’d finally seen my tattoo. She’d actually held off a lot longer than I’d expected her to.
“What about it?”
My voice came out flat, but there was nothing to be done for it. The hell I’d made for myself over the years wasn’t something I relished speaking about.
Which was why I never had with another living soul. Not even Cris.
“What does it look like? Feel like?”
She’d opened up about her nightmares and her burns, both painful subjects for her. Even though my own honesty cogs were rusty as hell, I owed it to her to crank them and give her whatever they churned out.
“It’s a locked house,” I confessed. “My parents’ house. A warm place I thought I would always be welcome in but that I’ve suddenly been barred from entering. My entire family is inside, smiling and laughing while they share a meal together. I’ve never seen them so happy.” I swallowed thickly. “But I’m standing outside, watching from the window. I’m cold and empty. No money, no possessions. They don’t even notice my absence. It’s as if I never existed. Or as if I’m already dead.”
I had to clear my throat when I croaked those last words. “That’s what my hell looks like, Lexi. A place and time when my family doesn’t need me and doesn’t want me. And it feels like…shame.”
Her breaths shallowed during my speech. By the end of it, she was rubbing my arm in support. “Is that where your tattoo comes from? Guilt can be to the soul what a bullet can be to the body.”
I tightened my hold on her when I felt the urge to shift away. I wanted to trust her with this. I needed her to understand because sometimes I felt like no one else did. I wanted to give Lexi the one piece of me I never thought I would hand over to anyone.
“Yes,” I rasped. “I guess you could say I put it there as a reminder. Guilt can consume a person. Like bullets, it can leave wounds, infect the body, and if ignored, it can ultimately destroy. And I realized not long ago that I didn’t want to be that weak. I didn’t want to be taken down by my own faults and insecurities. I’ve survived bullets before. I can survive my own guilt.”
“What do you feel guilty for, Nico?” Her voice was so soft I barely heard her.
Here it comes.
This was where she’d pity me.
“You were right that night we left my parents’ after Sunday lunch. Cris might as well be the eldest son. Years ago, when our father needed me to step up and take over certain responsibilities within the family, I cowered. I was young and immature. I wanted to be free to live my life however I wanted without being tied down by duty and obligation. Which was one reason why the career I went into worked out so perfectly for me. But I never stopped to think about what it meant for my family.”
“Go on,” she encouraged.
I exhaled heavily. “I made it pretty clear that I had no interest in being Dad’s righthand man. Which meant all of that fell on Cris’s shoulders. None of them ever saw me the same way again, especially Dad. He hasn’t stopped being disappointed in me since. His firstborn son basically rejected his family, his heritage, his own father’s legacy. I don’t blame him for never forgiving me. Because I’ve never forgiven myself.”
“Have you ever asked for his forgiveness?”
I shook my head sharply. “I haven’t earned it yet.”
“But you’re trying to. Aren’t you?”
An uncomfortable lump was rising in my throat, making it difficult to swallow, let alone speak. She tried to turn in my arms, but I stayed her. “No. I can’t see you look at me like I know you’re going to right now. You don’t have to make me feel better, Lexi. These are my own decisions, and I have to live with them. I’ve accepted that.”
She placed a light kiss on my arm. “Please?”
That small gesture eviscerated any fight I had left inside me. Stunned at how easily she could control me, I had no choice but to loosen my grip, allowing her to turn her graceful body around. Her warm breasts pressed against my chest, her hands grazed my waist, her eyes locked onto mine.
“You are trying to right the mistakes you’ve made,” she said. “You’re regretful, and you’re working to be b
etter. To live up to the expectations they not only have of you, but the ones you’ve set for yourself. I see that, Nico.”
I averted my gaze. “It’s not enough. It’s never enough. I turned my back on them. I basically abandoned my own family.”
Her cool fingers splayed over my cheek, forcing me to look at her. “I know you invest in stocks for your parents that no one else, not even Cris, knows about. I saw documents on the desk in your office. You went out of your way to find properties in Istria you knew your parents would love. In fact, I think that business about buying the winery was a bunch of…what’s the expression? A bunch of hog-wash?”
I chuckled, ducking my head.
“I think that whole trip was specifically planned around assessing those properties for your parents,” she continued. “Jasmine also told me you’ve been making fewer trips overseas and spending more time in the city. I’d even wager to say that’s why you chose to open the distillery in Brooklyn. You said it’s been a dream of yours for fifteen years. You had the money and connections to build it anywhere you wanted, yet you chose your own backyard for its location. To me, that says you want to have an excuse to stay around. You want something to keep you here.”
How? How did this woman know all of this?
Despite how perceptive she was, she shouldn’t have been able to understand what drove me deep down. How had she seen all of this in such a short amount of time? It hadn’t even been a month since I’d met her, and already she knew me better than Cris did.
“You wouldn’t have gotten that tattoo if you didn’t want to do right by your family,” she went on. “You’re trying to overcome your guilt by taking on the responsibilities your father once asked of you. You’ve been earning his forgiveness, Nico, whether you see it or not.”
God, she was wrecking me.
Her intuition, her kindness. I didn’t deserve any of it. I pressed our foreheads together, trying to communicate my appreciation, my gratitude, my devotion. I never wanted to stop touching her.
“For all your wisdom, legs, you’re wrong about one thing.”
She frowned adorably. “What’s that?”
Gazing into the vast depths of her blue pools, I swear to Christ, I got a glimpse into my own soul. “The distillery might not be enough. Maybe I want someone to keep me here. And maybe I’ve found her.”
Her face went slack, an expression I couldn’t interpret. I slammed my lips against hers and drove my cock past her slick folds before she could get a word out.
I was too afraid I wouldn’t like her response.
And I was even more afraid that she would tell me exactly what I wanted to hear.
My wife didn’t wear my ring, didn’t even bear my name. Yet she was mine all the same. The only physical proof I had that she belonged to me was a Russian marriage license. Part of me needed more than that. And the other part insisted this was enough for now. Her looking at me with need shining in her sapphire eyes. Her lower lip quivering with impending release. Her pussy dripping for fulfillment from my cock.
That was a deeper, more powerful stamp of ownership than the name on her driver’s license or an expensive diamond on her finger.
This was us.
And we couldn’t be denied. Not anymore.
Thinking back on it, it was incredibly ironic—and almost prophetic—that Lexi and I had that particular conversation, on that particular night, at that particular time. Because the phone call I received just over an hour later put all of my fears and insecurities front and center again.
“Nico, you need to get to the hospital as soon as you can,” my mother said in a frantic voice. “Your father’s had a heart attack.”
I was no stranger to hospitals.
Having had my share of experiences in them at a young age, I understood how scary it could be for a child to be surrounded by beeping machines and intimidating-looking doctors with clipboards. Which was why I’d often visited sick and injured children back in Moscow.
And it was beyond inappropriate for me to reflect on how much I missed that as I followed Nico through the bland, white halls toward his father’s hospital room. He was noticeably upset, probably scared, although he hid his fears extremely well.
Earlier in bed, I’d needed him.
Now, he needed me.
We found Val and Gia in the waiting room, huddled together on a small sofa with tear-stained cheeks. When Val saw us, she shot to her feet and threw herself into Nico’s arms. I was surprised that Gia didn’t even hesitate to do the same to me.
As if I already belonged to them.
Like I was family.
The way my heart soared was also inappropriate. This wasn’t about me and whether or not I wanted to be a part of this family.
“How is he?” Nico asked.
I doubted that either woman detected the slight shakiness in his voice.
Val pulled back from her son, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “He’s in surgery right now. They have to replace a valve and will probably put stints in. I told him he was putting too much on himself after the last time. His father had heart issues, too.”
Nico stiffened. “What do you mean, the last time?”
Val’s pale face flinched. “We didn’t want to worry any of you, especially before Cris and Jasmine’s wedding. Your father’s been having some chest pains for the last few months. His doctor diagnosed it as angina.”
My heart cracked right down the center when Nico’s face drained of color. “Mom… Why didn’t you tell us?”
“You know your father,” she laughed dryly. “Always has to be Superman. It was a battle just to get him to go to the doctor in the first place. I finally had to threaten to leave him if he didn’t.”
Gia and I shared weary grins, knowing Val was joking. Those two couldn’t have been more symmetrical to each other, more in sync. I couldn’t imagine anything tearing them apart.
“The stress has been getting to him, hasn’t it?” Nico demanded, his voice stern. “Everything that’s been going on this year, it’s taken its toll on him.”
Pushing back her shoulders, Val transformed into the tough matriarch right before my eyes. “Your father’s never going to stop being who he is, Niccolò, no matter what threats our family faces. Just as our children will never stop being who they are. And we would never want you to. We would never ask you to change. So, I cannot ask that of your father. His stubbornness is one of the reasons why I fell in love with him in the first place.”
Nico’s jaw hardened.
Then the waiting room doors burst open. Cris, Jasmine, and Luka stormed in, followed five minutes later by Ace, Roxy, and Rome. Everyone hugged, Val updated them on Enzo’s condition, but my eyes stayed on Nico. His face was taking on a chalky pallor, and it was starting to worry me.
So, when he mumbled something about going to look for a restroom, I followed him out the door and down the hall at a brisk pace. When I rounded a corner shortly after him—
He shattered me.
His forehead was pressed against the wall, face lowered, eyes squeezed shut. He was grinding his fist into the drywall, as if restraining the urge to haul back and punch it. As I slowly closed the distance between us, I saw it. Barely discernable in the minute trembling of his lips, the ticking in his cheeks, the shaking of his shoulders.
Nico was crying.
This infallible, unflappable man who always had a quick retort and snide comment on the tip of his tongue, was shedding tears.
He didn’t lift his head when I stopped next to him, but I could tell he knew I was there. I rubbed my cheek against his arm, needing some way to comfort him.
“He’s going to be okay.”
“I put this on him,” he choked out. “He was taking on more than he should have because of me.”
“You know better than that, Nico. You didn’t cause him to have a heart attack.”
His laughter was riddled with bitterness. “Didn’t I? If he’d known he could rely on me to take care of things, he wou
ldn’t have burdened himself with so much.” Through clenched teeth, he added, “The stress wouldn’t have been so overwhelming. This is on me.”
“It’s not on you,” I snapped. “Don’t let this be another excuse to pile on more guilt and self-hatred. Use this as an opportunity to prove yourself to them, Nico. Enzo wanted you to help him lead this family. And now they need you more than ever. Be there for them. Be the man your father wants you to be. The man I think you want to be.”
He finally turned his head, his red-rimmed eyes piercing straight through me. “You really think I can be that man?”
I slowly shook my head. “You already are that man. You just have to believe it.”
I kept my eyes steadily trained on him, showing him how serious I was, how steadfastly I believed in him even if he didn’t. By slow degrees, his face began to harden with resolve. His eyes narrowed, just before he grabbed me and pushed me up against the wall. I gasped into his mouth as it covered mine, his tongue thrusting inside with unrelenting swipes.
“What was that for?” I panted once he pulled away with obvious reluctance.
“For having the courage to always tell me exactly what I need to hear. And for never putting up my bullshit. And for just being you.”
I grinned. “Anytime, pretty boy.”
He lowered his hands to find my own. “Now, I’m going to go do what I should have done a long time ago.”
I interlaced my fingers with his. “And I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”
Maybe it was my own wishful thinking, but I swear he actually looked…relieved.
The last twenty-four hours had been hell. All of us crammed inside the hospital waiting room, trying to keep Mom calm and distracted. Waiting impatiently for news on Dad’s surgery.
Thank Christ, he’d made it out with flying colors and was now in recovery.
He was still pretty out of it from the anesthesia, so I hadn’t been able to speak with him. We’d all been taking shifts sitting with him so Mom could get some sleep.
Booze and Bullets (Brooklyn Brothers #3) Page 25