I do. God help me, I do. But I don’t answer because I know the answer will make me feel guiltier than I already do about the feelings that I shouldn’t be having about him.
Nico takes my silence for agreement.
"He murdered her,” he whispers. “After he raped her.”
The revelation steals what little air remains from my lungs. I want to look back at Slava as if I can somehow find the truth on his face. But that’s when Nico reaches out to grab me by my chin to hold my gaze to him.
Where Slava’s touch sets my body on fire, I feel nothing but a dreadful ice snaking through my veins from Nico.
"If he could do that to a princess of the D’Ambrosio Family," Nico continues. “Just imagine what he might do to an ordinary girl like you when he finds out what you really are."
But he does know what I am, a little voice in my head snaps at him in silence.He knows and he hasn’t done a damn thing that might suggest he’s anything like the monster that you say he is.
As soon as that thought crosses my mind, I find myself wondering just why the hell am I defending Slava fucking Romanov.
“If you want to hurt Slava for both our murdered siblings, you don’t kill his reputation.” His lips thin into a line. “You have to dig deep, find something precious to him, and bring it to me.”
"And what exactly am I looking for?"
"That's the problem. I don’t know what it is. I just know that it’s something he keeps very close to his heart." He shrugs. "And the only place he’ll keep it hidden is in his penthouse."
Dread curls in my stomach. I see where this is going before he says it.
"How am I supposed to get in?"
"You already know how, Ms. Creminelli." Nico doesn’t let me go as he gives me an up-and-down look, his eyes gleaming. “Spread those pretty long legs that Luca never told us about and get in bed with him."
My hand connects with his face before my brain can stop myself.
The slap is loud. Loud enough that heads turn nearby. Loud enough that I see Slava shifting in my peripheral vision as I make a spectacle of myself in the middle of the event I spent weeks organizing.
I don't care.
"Get the fuck out."
Nico touches his cheek, where a red mark is already blooming. But the part that scares me the most is the fact that there isn’t any anger in his eyes when he looks back at me.
Instead, he looks satisfied.
Like this is exactly what he wanted.
11
SLAVA
What the fuckis he saying to her?
I’ve always prided myself on knowing things—everything from who my enemies are, what leverage I can find, and how I can best use that leverage against them.
It’s how I’ve managed to stay alive all these years.
But right now, I'm operating blind. Here, across forty feet of gala floor and a crowd of increasingly curious guests, I’m forced to watch as Nico D’Ambrosio fucking reaches out and grips her by her chin while hesmirks.
My fingers clench tighter around my glass of whiskey and a dark thought I have no right to feel unfurls in my chest.
Then, before anyone else can react, Bella slaps Nico’s face, and a murmur moves through the crowd like a mass of angry bees at her utter lack of decorum.
But me? The only thing I feel is a rush of visceral satisfaction in my black heart.
