“At least he’s a sexy asshole who happens to run a crime family.” Nik winks at me. I point another shoe at him threateningly. “Hey now, you’re the one who said he’s hot!” He raises his hands defensively.
“I said he wasn’t bad looking, and you’re the one who pulled it from me!” I huff, pissed that it’s true. Pissed that he’s hot.
“At least he’s better than Sergey,” Nik offers. He picks up my lilac kitten heel and curls his lip at it.
“We don’t know that,” I counter, mostly to be obstinate. I know I’m picking a fight with him, but it’s because he’s the only one that’ll let me.
Vova rubs against me, comforting me.
“Yes, we do. Sergey’s an old creep that kills his wives. Dominic Montclair is a sexy crime boss.”
I snort, and Nik throws the heel back at me. I duck in time to miss it but still glare at him.
“Ugh! I’m just so pissed!” I hop on my bed and scream into a pillow. Better that than Yelena thinking Nik’s killing me in here. “I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe when I’m finally free of this hellhole, I’m moving in with another controlling, abusive bastard. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
Nik grunts at the mention of abuse. He hasn’t mentioned the bruise on my cheek, nor the way I flinch and groan when I move. I know he notices them, but with Viktor as his boss, there’s not much he can do. But I know he hates it.
“I wish I could be there for you. Then, at least, I could protect you from the abuse if he tries anything. I can’t stand by while another man hurts you. I don’t give a damn if it’s your husband causing the pain.” He sighs, and I know he means it.
It gives me an idea.
“Wait, Nik, what if you do come? Viktor wants me to spy on Dominic and the Syndicate. I bet I could convince him to bring one of his men with me to help on the mission. He’d probably even like the idea of having control over me even when I’m married. I could ask him if it can be you!”
I jump up and start pacing, letting a plan take form. I’ll have to ask carefully, so as to not give away how much I want this.
Nik’s my personal Bratva guard. He has Viktor’s trust but is loyal to me.
“You might be onto something. There’s nothing Viktor gets off more on than control. And having eyes on his Bratva Princess would make him ecstatic. I bet he’d even want me to spy on you, which of course, I’ll only tell him what you want me to.” Nik jumps up and wraps his arm around me. “This is great! We just have to hope Viktor can convince Montclair.”
I’m soaring at the possibility of having my best friend, my comfort, with me when I go. I give him a kiss on the cheek, and he ruffles my hair.
“This could work. I might survive if I have you by my side.” I give him a tight hug, and sigh in relief. This could be it.
“You’re strong, Katya. You can survive anything. Fuck, you’ve put up with Viktor for this long. You’re a fighter,” he tells me as he squeezes me.
“Thanks.” I blush at the compliment, not used to them. “Maybe there are some hot Syndicate men to ogle while we’re there” I tease him, changing the subject.
He throws a hand over his heart dramatically.
“A man can only dream,” he says wistfully. “Is it bad that I’m hoping the Syndicate men are hotter than the Russians? My own people just aren’t doing it for me.”
“They aren’t doing it for me either. Imagine having to fuck Sergey!” I blanche at my future.
“I can’t believe he’s making you marry Sergey after Montclair. It’s ridiculous. You really can’t catch a break.”
“Ooh idea! What if you get me pregnant right now, then I have to marry you instead of the others! Then we have a happy lavender marriage raising our kid!” I sigh longingly at the absurd, unrealistic vision.
“Nope!” Nik says as he drops me to the floor. “Neither of us wants a kid, and I actually would like to live to see my twenty-sixth birthday. Viktor would kill me for adulterating his ‘perfect, virgin daughter.’”
Nik pretends to vomit at my preposterous idea, and I just laugh.
“Let a girl dream. There’s nothing I’d want more than to marry my best friend, even if the sex would be awkward.” I tease him.
“The sex would be nonexistent. You’re not my type,” he looks me over with a similar disgust as Dominic Montclair did.
“You’re not mine either. Remember, Russian doesn’t do it for us?” I scold him.
“I take that back. Pyotr does it for me. Oh, he really does it for me!” He wiggles his eyebrows at me then laughs at my revulsion.
