And for some strange reason, this was the most awful part of the night.
I stared into the darkness, my heart thumping in my chest and the blood pulsing in my ears as I listened to him fucking that woman from earlier, and I hated him in that moment more than I ever had before. I was the one who needed him right now, not that cheap tart he’d brought back from the mainland.
My hate and anger grew, and I turned and slammed the door shut behind me, hard enough to make the sound echo through the entire condo. The groaning stopped momentarily, and I heard voices and I wondered if he’d come out to check on me, but seconds later I heard the thumping of the headboard once more.
Tears blurred my vision as I ran to my room, slamming that door behind me too and then I threw myself on my bed, pulling a pillow over my head to drown out the noises coming from his room.
I didn’t want Nikolai. Not inthatway.
It was Nik for God’s sake, and I hated him.
But if I hated him, then why did every thump of his headboard feel like a stab to my heart?
Chapter Seventeen
Nikolai
The weather was perfect, the ocean frothing gently against the sand. It was a shame I couldn’t have one actual fucking vacation day. What with all the damn Bratva meetings and family dinners and the endless, emotionally draining war with Katya.
And today was no different. I couldn’t just toss on shorts, take a boat, and hunt down some sweet waves. I crossed my arms, leaning against the patio door frame and wanting more than anything to slide the glass open and head to the dock.
The only thing I hated more than the idea of marriage, was the prospect of an entire day wasted shopping. Going to Eduard’s tailor on the main island would be a dawn to dusk event. Sure, I’d come out of the experience with an amazing suit, but I’d rather be surfing. Or drinking. Or fucking hot women. Or doing just about anything else other than having some old guy measuring my inseam in a building that smelled like cheap cigars.
Hell, I didn’t even know if I was welcome at this point, after my drunken display at dinner last night. I wouldn’t be put off if Eduard and Alexander ditched me to my own devices. I’d relish it, truth be told. But with my luck, it was highly fucking doubtful I’d catch a break.
At least I was pretty damn sure that Katya’s date had been shit. The way she’d slammed the condo’s front door last night and then stomped across the suite to her bedroom meant it couldn’t have been good. The final meat bag stuffed with money had bit the dust like all the others, no help from me required.
Smirking, I stretched, grunting as my back popped intensely.
Miss Nameless stirred in the bed behind me and I walked over, bending down to pick up her bathing suit and shorts before knocking the mattress with my leg to shake it.
“Get up,” I ordered, and when she didn’t rouse immediately at the movement of the mattress or sound of my voice, I yanked the covers off her body harshly. Her eyelids fluttered open in surprise as she sat up halfway, propping herself on one elbow. There was dried drool down her cheek and her hair looked like a cheap wig gone wrong.
Jesus, what had I been thinking?
Had someone laced my drink?
“What’s wrong? What time is it?” she mumbled sleepily, rubbing at her crusty eyes.
“It’s time for you to leave.” I tossed her clothes atop her naked body and then walked out of the room, not bothering to answer her other question. Besides, the only thing wrong was I was tired of seeing her, and I didn’t even know what time it was. We’d knocked the bedside clock off the nightstand last night and it was blinking midnight over and over again.
“God, what a dick,” I heard her mutter behind me before the mattress squeaked as she got up to dress. At least she was leaving without much fight. I’d give her that much.
Katya hadn’t made coffee yet, and her bedroom door was still shut tightly. She’d thumped the wall angrily around two a.m., only sending me into overdrive fucking the bleach bimbo. I’d enjoyed keeping her awake, but at the same time, there were moments when I wished it was her body I was pushing into, her body I was tasting and tempting.
But it never would be.
Never could be.
No matter how much I...Fuck. Fuck, what was wrong with me?
I had to end this cycle in my head- the wishing for her and wanting for her, even though I knew it was like a dying man reaching for the final nail in his coffin.
Let her end up with Mr. Perfect who dripped manners and money. Let her please the great Eduard and Evelina Vasiliev by being a good, dutiful damn daughter.
She’d never be happy. She couldn’t be.
Because Katya was a wild animal, and wild animals never did well in gilded cages.
