Page 106 of Bleed with Me

“I swear on my father’s grave, Nina.” I squeezed her hand tenderly. “Nothing will happen to you. I just want to talk.”

A tiny smile tugged on her lips, her expression softening.

“You called me by my name,” she whispered, as if she couldn’t believe it. “It’s nice.”

“I finally know it.” I winked at her, pushing myself to ignore the magnetic pull between us. “Let’s go.”

I tugged her toward the back entrance and outside to the busy street. Relief flooded me when the cold air ruffled my hair, but only for a second, because Sasha stood beside my car, smoking a cigarette.

“I need the keys,” I commanded, waving my hand in front of his face. Nina moved behind me, yet he noticed her.

“Who’s that?” He straightened to his impressive height, glaring at her.

“None of your business,” I retorted, giving him a pointed look. “Keys.”

He hesitated, glancing between Nina and me before he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

“Does Malin know about this?” he asked as I opened the passenger door, my patience running out.

“He isn’t my babysitter.”

Sasha bristled. “But he’ll have my head if something happens to you. Again.”

“Not my problem.” I shrugged and slid behind the steering wheel.

The engine purred during the drive to my house. I stole a few glances at Nina, and she did the same when she thought I wasn’t looking, but neither of us said a word. My fingers tapped against the steering wheel while the radio failed miserably at swallowing the tension between us.

Parking in front of my house felt like redemption. Nina hastily opened the door and got out, scanning the surroundings as if she expected an army to run out from the decorative bushes.

“We’re alone,” I reassured her. “My brothers don’t know about this place.”

She nodded, her shoulders relaxing a little. I let her in, turned on the lights, and walked into the living room.

“Take a seat,” I offered, shrugging off my suit jacket and removing my tie. I rolled the sleeves of my button-up to my elbows and walked to the alcohol cabinet. “Drink?”

“Whiskey, please.” Nina crossed her long legs and adjusted her dress to cover her thighs. I handed her a glass of expensive scotch, old enough to pay rent, and sat opposite her in the armchair.

“Why?” I asked eventually, because she clearly didn’t want to be the first one to talk. “Why did you kidnap me, but didn’t use it as any mafia leader would? Zyon would’ve given you anything.”

“Naive,” she exhaled, moving the glass to her lips. She tasted the alcohol, nodding in appreciation after a generous gulp.

“You could’ve—” I continued, but she swiftly cut me off.

“I could’ve done shit!” she spat, slamming the glass on the coffee table so hard the contents almost spilled. “I would’ve only started a war I couldn’t win. My family has no allies, no powerful friends.” She threw her dark hair over her shoulder, her eyes blazing. “Giovanni destroyed everything, and now I have to pay for it!”

“You?” I echoed, watching her abruptly stand up.

“Me,” she snapped, reaching behind her dress. In a split second, the black gown fell to the floor.

I raised a brow, taken aback by her actions. I certainly didn’t think our conversation would take this turn so quickly. But then, I looked, truly looked at her body and froze.

A dark bruise spread over the left side of her abdomen, from her ribs through her stomach. The blue color blended with the yellow-brown one that ended just above her pelvic bone.

As if in a trance, I let go of the glass, the expensive liquid soaking into the carpet. Falling to my knees before her, I scanned the injuries, evaluating the shape, the color, the placement.

One bruise was fresh, barely hours old. The other had already begun healing. My pulse spiked, temper rising dangerously high.

“Who touched you, ma vilaine?” The question came out quietly, too quietly for the turmoil in my chest.