But the thing with Nikolai was that he never took anything serious. He joked and he teased and he tormented...but it wasneverreal. I didn’t have time for him or his games.
My days as a single woman were numbered and I wasn’t about to waste them on him.
Chapter Nine
Nikolai
Banishing the man from Katya’s bed had given me a wave of sweet satisfaction. Not only because I’d scared the shit out of him, or the fact that her lips on mine had felt like heaven, but also because I was still feeling oddly unsettled over listening to her fuck him the night before.
Though, after seeing the guy in person, I was less than impressed. And I hazarded a guess that Katya hadn’t been as satisfied as she’d acted. No way that thoroughly unimpressive looking man had appreciated her body the way she deserved.
The way I’d appreciate it, by devouring every damn inch of her.
I ran my hands through my hair and then clasped my fingers at the base of my head, standing for a moment at the sliding glass doors and staring out at the glistening ocean.
Why had hearing her with another man felt different this time? It wasn’t a first, and I doubted it would be the last time she flaunted a conquest, but for some reason I found myself oscillating between sparks of jealousy, possessiveness, confusion, anger, lust, and puredesire.
“Get a fucking hold of yourself, man. She’s Katya. Alex’s annoying sister. Bane of my existence.” I dropped my hands in defeat and shook my head hard, causing the beautiful scenery outside to blur erratically. That was how I felt inside--like everything was spinning.
And I didn’t have time for that shit.
Turning around, I picked up my suitcase and slammed it down on the bed, unzipping it to snag my navy-blue swim trunks. Katya had made coffee, and the scent of it had warmed the room around me, but I was too on edge to eat anything right now.
I needed to get out of the room, out of the condo suite, and away from the other smells that still lingered.
The smells of sex. Of the two girls’ perfumes. Of the heady aroma of alcohol seeping from my pores because I’d drunk so fucking much at the beach bar. I was sticky with it, nearly getting a buzz just from my body trying to detox.
Changing, I opened the patio doors and exited that way rather than walking through the house. The infinity pool would feel fucking amazing, but it wasn’t an option, not since Katya’s room faced in that direction. I didn’t want to see her again, not right now. I’d had the last word, making my exit and leaving her, as per normal, muttering after me in defeat. She might deserve an award for the most frustrating woman ever, but she rarely won against me.
Because I didn’t get bent out of shape like she did. Nothing phased me. Especially not a woman. And definitely not Katya Vasiliev.
Sure, keep telling yourself that.A small voice piped up in my head and I frowned.
Last night had bothered me. And I didn’t fucking understand it.
I strolled towards the building’s private beach, wishing for a board as I saw the late morning waves were cresting respectably. Clean waves, screaming to be carved. That was another flaw of the private island, it wasn't a prime surfer spot. You wanted Namotu or Tavarua for consistent, delicious curls. Those were off the western shores of Viti Levu and Alexander and I had spent many a day there surfing and picking up women, but the thought of going there alone, of having to ask hospitality for a board pissed me off. Alexander used to handle shit like that. People listened to him--his name gave him sway that only the future Bratva King could get, so naturally he took the lead. Now here I was, standing on the fucking beach, on my fucking own, and realizing that I’d have to ask for shit myself and likely not get the same response.
Frustrated, I closed the distance to the water quickly, my feet sinking into wet, salty sand. I walked offshore, cleaving through the warm waters, until I was chest deep and could launch myself forward to swim. I took muscle-driven, precise strokes, working my way further and further offshore until I was out of breath. And only then did I stop, when I felt like I’d pushed my body to the breaking point.
I bobbed up and down in the ocean, the clear waters giving way to brightly colored fish and peeks of coral below. I’d at least get a snorkel and fins next time, so I could properly appreciate the view. The ocean here was second to none.
I swam slower on my way back, dreading the approaching shore. No, not the beach, not the return of land.
The return of… shit not being the same anymore. The return of the looming future that used to be at a standstill but was now barreling forward like a New York subway train. Marriage. Kids. A respectable house in the goddamn suburbs. Losing my best friend.
That wasn’t me. It wasn’t going to happen, no matter how much Mother Markov and Evelina Vasiliev pushed. I would stay a free man. Not all soldiers got married. Some dedicated themselves to the family, they stayed unattached. Of course, those were also the front of the line sacrifices when shit got bad.
I grimaced at the thought, pulling myself up to a standing position as the depth got too shallow to swim. Water beaded off of me, my muscles glistening. I pushed my hair out of my eyes, slicking it down against my scalp and blinking against the bright sun as salt clung to my eyelashes.
Across the beach, nearly hidden by landscaped trees, I caught a glimpse of a bright green bikini and oversized sunglasses. Katya was watching me from near the infinity pool.
Something twanged in my chest, and my frown deepened. I didn’t have feelings for Katya Vasiliev, the annoying tagalong sister I never asked for, yet inherited because of Alexander. I didn’t have feelings for her.
And I’d prove it.
Stalking across the sand, which was now growing bitingly hot as the sun rose higher, I smirked gleefully.
It was time to ramp my charm up to eleven, give her a real taste of what she was missing, make her want it, and pull back at the last minute. I’d torture her to prove she meant nothing to me.
