Just then, a soft knock came at the door.
I jerked my head up, roughly wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.
"Vivienne?" Nikolai's deep voice came through the door. "May I come in?"
I stared at that door, my hand gripping the phone trembling.
Right now, the man I'd once thought understood me, loved me, stood outside.
And in my hand, I held evidence of his betrayal.
I took a deep breath, my voice calm to the point of strangeness even to myself.
"Come in."
The doorknob slowly turned.
And I knew what came next would completely change everything between us.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nikolai
I shoved the study door open. Sasha was already waiting.
"Talk." I dropped into the chair behind the desk, yanking at my collar. The control I'd forced in the car was crumbling now, replaced by a rage that could burn me to ash.
"Got the plates." Sasha slid his tablet across the desk, expressionless. "Chevy SUV. Registered to a shell company. But according to our sources, the actual owner is—"
"Carmine Marchetti." I cut him off, voice ice-cold.
Sasha nodded. "Right. And surveillance tracked the vehicle to an abandoned warehouse near the Marchetti operations in the south side. Today wasn't improvised, Pakhan. They'd scouted it. They knew Ms. Cole's route."
My fingers drummed the desk, a dull, hollow sound.
Marchetti.
That old fox had been lying low since I'd screwed his plans. I figured he was waiting for an opening, but I never thought he'd go straight for Vivienne.
"Dig up every Marchetti location in Washington." I looked up,murder plain in my eyes. "Every safe house, every transport route, every contact. And double the patrols around the estate. Any unknown vehicle gets close, shoot to kill."
"Yes, sir." Sasha paused. "One more thing. Ms. Torres was at the scene. She left early, but the Marchetti family may have noticed her connection to Ms. Cole."
I closed my eyes. Took a breath.
Mia Torres. Vivienne's only real friend. One of the few people she actually trusted in this world.
"Put protection on Ms. Torres." I opened my eyes. "Twenty-four-hour surveillance. Keep it invisible. And add security for Vivienne's mother too."
"Understood, Pakhan." Sasha gave a slight bow and left quickly.
The second the door closed, I rubbed my throbbing temples. All I could see was that car barreling toward her at the intersection, that heart-ripping terror worse than having multiple AK-47s pressed to my skull.
I had to see her.
I opened the bedroom door. The room was dim—just the warm glow of a reading lamp by the bed. Vivienne sat on the edge in her bathrobe, spine rigid, like a bowstring pulled so tight it might snap.
"Feeling better, firecracker?" I moved closer carefully, that bloodthirsty fury draining away the moment I saw her fragile silhouette. I just wanted to hold her.
