“I can’t—I can’t—” I can’t take it.
“Yes, you can. You will burn. You will burn out. But like a phoenix, you will rise again with me.”
“Yes!”
Yes to all of it, to protecting those we love, to being turned inside out by long, hard strokes. Yes to his tongue in my mouth and the way he reaches the parts inside me no one else has. Yes to how he holds my heart. To how I’ll always be safe with him.
46
Isla
I wake to rain pitter-pattering against the windowpane, naked and in Niko’s bed in Kensington. Our bed. Our home. Our life together.
I feel like I’ve had my life turned upside down and shaken vigorously. But even though everything has now settled, it doesn’t feel the same as it did before. Strangely, it still feels right. I don’t know how. It just does.
I’m married to a dangerous man, but that was clear before last night’s revelations. I’m married to a man who sacrificed his very existence for me. That’s what Sergei meant when he said Niko has changed his destiny for me.
With love, one can live even without happiness.
And he did. He loved me, and what he got in return was years of living someone else’s life. Years filled with unhappiness.
The sheets rustle as I turn onto my side, watching the rain snake its way down the glass. A new day, a new beginning, the rain washing it all away? If only it were that simple.
Who knows. Maybe it is. If I’m his happiness, he won’t ever live without me.
Throwing back the covers, I decide it’s time to embrace this new life of mine.
I shower, tie up my hair, then slip on jeans, a white shirt, and a pair of soft loafers before checking in with Holland that all is well.
All good? She doesn’t reply immediately, but that’s normal.
“Damn.” I forgot Hugh has a soccer match this morning. I hope he forgot too, or else Holland will have been dragged out of bed at some ungodly hour to stand in a patch of damp grass this morning. Or maybe Sandy.
My stomach rumbles as my feet trip lightly down the stairs. I need carbs and coffee and more time with my husband to discuss the implications of this life on my children. They will be protected, of that I’m sure, but I don’t—
Voices. Raised voices in the office. Rapid-fire Russian.
I can go to the kitchen and stick my head in the sand, but I’ve already decided against that way of dealing with things.
The door silently glides open, though Niko doesn’t miss it.
“Darling.” His cool eyes meet mine, but I see the anger burning in them as he raises his hand to gesture me forward. “Come in.”
“I don’t want to—” My words halt, and my stomach drops. There, on the other side of the room, is the man I met at The Ritz. Anatoli Aslanov. His eyes meet mine and quickly dart away, his words not so much spilling as overflowing.
“In English,” Niko instructs.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Pakhan. I was given instructions, and I carried them out. That’s my job.”
“You weren’t told to terrorize.” Niko’s gaze glides to the man standing next to him. His arm is in a sling, and I’d say by the traces of bruising around his eyes and some swelling, he’s recently had his nose broken. “Unless you told him to.”
“No, Pakhan,” the man with the sling insists, tipping his gaze southward. “Again, my sincerest apologies. It will not happen again. I apologize most humbly to your wife, also.”
“You will not address my wife,” Niko barks. His eyes warm as they land on me. “Close the door, darling.”
Four pairs of eyes watch me. Niko. Sergei. Aslanov. The man with the injured face. I feel like I’m on the edge of a yawning precipice. Do I jump or do I back away?
I jump, crossing the room to where Niko stands.
His hand snakes around my hip, pulling me closer to him.
“This is Federov.” He gestures to the man in the sling. “He is who you were supposed to meet at The Ritz. He is”—Niko pauses—“a senior manager, a head of department, in our organization.” Euphemistic much? “He is also the man who, unauthorized, delegated his assignment to the scum who touched you.”
“He didn’t—”
Reaching across me, Niko threads his fingers around my left wrist. “No?” His gaze dares me to defend the man.
My eyes dart across the room to Aslanov’s pale face. It looks like the answer has already been shaken out of him.
I turn my head, keeping my voice low. “It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.”
Niko’s hand cups my cheek. “It’s not done until I say so.” His lush lips brush my forehead. “Because, you see, Anatoli’s crimes extend far beyond touching you. He has a taste for the flesh. Don’t you?” His head lifts. “For fear and filth. This is not the first time we’ve had this conversation, is it?”