Devil’s Lair: Molotov Obsession: Book 1 Page 19

  Gently, I try again. “Hi, Daddy.”

  He stares at his sneakers. “Hi, Daddy.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but the words are clear, as is the wariness in his large golden eyes when he lifts his gaze.

  He’s hesitant, and I can’t blame him. Despite the small bit of progress we made with our joint reading session the other day, father and son are still virtual strangers.

  I reach over to take his hands in mine. “I’m very proud of you. You’re being brave and strong, like Superman.”

  His small face brightens. “Superman?”

  “Superman,” I confirm, squeezing his hands gently before releasing them. “Brave and strong.”

  “Brave and strong,” he whispers, trying out the words. He points at his chest. “Brave and strong?”

  I beam at him. “Yes, you are brave and strong, just like Superman. And you’ll make your daddy very happy.”

  He gives me a big grin. “Happy, yes.” He points at the smiley face drawing and puffs out his thin chest. “Very happy.”

  He’s so adorable that I can’t resist giving him a hug, and my heart melts when his short arms go around my neck, squeezing tightly. This, here, is why I love children so much. All they want is love and affection, and once they have it, they return it in spades.

  Nikolai doesn’t understand that about his son yet, but he will.

  It’s just a matter of time and a little effort on my part.

  * * *

  An hour before dinner, I leave Slava with Lyudmila and go to my room to change and get ready. I’m so excited and nervous I can barely keep my hands from shaking as I apply my makeup and smooth my hair into a semblance of the polished waves Alina was able to create for me. If she were feeling well, I’d ask her to repeat her magic, but since I haven’t seen her at any point this afternoon, I have to assume she’s still down with the headache.

  Poor girl. I hope she feels better soon.

  Once my hair and makeup are done, I flip through my ridiculously large collection of evening dresses to find the absolute best one. Without Nikolai here, I’ve been grabbing whichever one seems most comfortable and easiest to put on, but tonight, I want to put in extra effort.

  I want to see his breath catch and his eyes kindle with that dark, savage heat that both excites and alarms me.

  I settle on a delicate ivory gown that has subtle threads of gold woven in. Made of some diaphanous material, it’s strapless, with a heart-shaped, corseted bodice that pushes up my breasts and defines my waist. The form-fitting skirt skims over my hips in the most flattering manner imaginable, and when I walk, a thigh-high slit on the left side reveals flashes of my leg. I pair the dress with the gold Jimmy Choos I wore on my first formal evening here, and I’m ready.

  Ready to see Nikolai and take our relationship further.

  * * *

  The car pulls up as I’m coming down the stairs. I catch a glimpse of it in one of the large windows, and my heart beats faster. Lyudmila and Slava are already standing in the living room, with the boy dressed in his evening best. As I approach, he smiles up at me shyly, and I give him an encouraging shoulder squeeze.

  “Remember, brave and strong, like Superman,” I whisper, trying to control my own nervousness, and he giggles—only to fall silent at the sound of the front door opening, followed by footsteps heading in our direction.

  Pavel appears first, but his house-sized frame barely registers in my vision. All my attention is on the tall, darkly beautiful man behind him, whose tiger-bright gaze homes in on me with an intensity that scorches my flesh and stills my lungs.

  In the span of the past couple of days, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be near him, to experience the devastating impact of his presence. I don’t just see him, I feel him with every inch of my skin, every cell of my being. Helplessly, my eyes trace over his features, taking in the uncompromising angles of his jaw and the sensuous shape of his lips, the startling thickness of his jet-black lashes and the way his raven’s wing hair is brushed back from his forehead, revealing those high, wide cheekbones. He’s dressed more casually than when he left, with a blue button-up shirt tucked into tailored slacks, and he looks so mouthwateringly hot that it’s all I can do to remain standing. My heart races, my entire body buzzing as if a network of live wires resides under my skin, and I’m only peripherally aware of Lyudmila stepping up to embrace her husband while chattering excitedly in Russian.

  Nikolai must be caught in the same potent spell because for a long moment, he stands still, eyes glittering as he takes in my appearance.

  Then he comes toward me.

  Breathless, I stare up at him as he stops in front of me. He’s so much more up close than on a computer screen. Bigger, taller… more dangerously, primitively male. With his seductive charm and fine clothes, it’s possible to forget that raw, animal quality he possesses, the sense that something feral lurks underneath his beautiful façade… something that draws me to him even as it makes the fine hair on the back of my neck stand up in warning.

  At a distance, it was easy to dismiss my imaginings about him being dangerous.

  Up close, it’s infinitely harder.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  The sound of that small, high-pitched voice jolts me out of my trance—and it has an even stronger effect on Nikolai. Every muscle on his face tightens as his gaze jumps to the boy standing bravely at my side.

  For a moment, father and son just stare at each other. Then Nikolai slowly goes down on one knee.

  “Hi,” he says hoarsely as a medley of emotions plays across his face. “Hi, Slavochka.”

  My heart clenches with a surge of warmth. That version of the boy’s name is an endearment; I’ve heard enough Russian over the past few days to know that.

  Slava smiles uncertainly at his father before looking up at me.

  “You did good,” I say huskily, smoothing my palm over his silky hair. “Just like Superman.” Smiling, I catch Nikolai’s gaze. “Tell him he did well.”

  His face twists, something dark and agonizing flashing in his eyes before he regains control. “You did well,” he says to the boy tonelessly, and rising to his feet, he steps back, his expression shuttered once more.

  Confused, I start to speak, but he beats me to it.

  “I need to talk to you,” he tells me in a hard voice, and taking my hand in an inescapable grip, he leads me to his office.

  41

  Chloe

  My stomach churns and my pulse is sickeningly fast as he takes a seat across from me at the round table, his eyes filled with a darkness I can no longer convince myself stems solely from my imagination. No trace remains of the tender, seductive man I spoke to for so many hours over video, a man who was so open about his feelings for me. In his place is a beautiful, terrifying stranger, his face taut with fury.

  The worst part is I have no idea what I’ve done, what happened to upset him so. Was it what Slava said? Or my clumsy suggestion that he praise the boy for—

  “You lied to me, zaychik,” he says in a lethally soft tone, and my heart plummets to my feet.

  I was wrong.

  This has nothing to do with Slava.

  It’s infinitely worse.

  I gulp in a breath. “Nikolai, I—”

  He holds up a hand, then opens a laptop that I just now notice is on the table. “Watch this,” he orders, turning the screen toward me.

  I watch—and what I see turns my blood to icy slush.

  It’s me, that day in Boise.

  The day they openly shot at me.

  There’s nothing more damning that Nikolai could’ve come across, no incident that speaks more clearly of the danger I pose to his family—a danger I haven’t let myself think about in any real way, focusing instead on my situation, my survival. It’s only now, with that grainy video in front of me, that I comprehend just how thoughtless, how selfish I have been.

  I have two violent killers after me, and here I am, playing dress-up in the clothes he bought fo
r me, pretending I’m safe in a compound he built for his son, a bright, sweet child I’ve already grown to adore.

  A child who’s in danger every second I’m here.

  I’d blocked that out of my mind somehow, along with the crushing terror of that day, but I can do so no longer. Trembling, sick inside, I rise to my feet. “Nikolai, I’m so, so sorry. I’ll leave. I’ll go right now—”

  “Sit.” His voice is even softer, a frightening contrast to the savage ferocity in his eyes. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “But—”

  “Sit.”

  My knees buckle underneath me, obeying his command.

  He leans in, his gaze pinning me in place. “I want the truth. The full truth. Understand?”

  I nod, even though I’m crumbling on the inside, all my hopes and dreams crashing around me.

  I will tell him.

  I will tell him everything.

  After all the lies, he deserves the truth.

  42

  Chloe

  “It all started when I drove home after my college graduation,” I say, trying—and failing—to keep my voice steady. “I was supposed to arrive in time for dinner, but the traffic was unusually heavy and I was almost an hour late. As soon as I found a parking spot in front of our building, I ran to the apartment, leaving my suitcase in the car. I figured I’d come back for it after we ate.

  “I had my keys, so I came in and went directly to the kitchen, where I thought Mom was warming up some of the food. But when I got there—” I stop to swallow the lump threatening to overtake my throat.

  “She was dead,” Nikolai guesses grimly, and I nod, hot tears stinging the back of my eyes.

  “She was lying in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor, her wrists slit. I couldn’t feel a pulse, so I ran to get my phone—I was in such a rush I forgot my purse with the phone in the car. But before I could exit the apartment, I heard voices, male voices, coming from Mom’s bedroom.”

  His eyes narrow dangerously. “They were there? In the apartment with you?”

  “Yes. I jumped into the little closet niche by the door and hid behind the coats there. I saw them then. Two big men in ski masks. They exited the apartment, then immediately came back in. I heard them go back into the bedroom, and since I was right by the door, I ran. I ran down all five flights of stairs, and then I kept running until I got to my car.” I drag in a shuddering breath, shoving down the recollection of that mind-numbing panic, of hyperventilating and sobbing as I fought to jam my keys into the ignition.

  Nikolai gives me a moment to compose myself. “What happened next?”

  “I called 911 and drove to the nearest police station. I told them what happened, and they dispatched a unit to my apartment. But the killers were gone by then, and the police, they ruled it—” My voice breaks. “They ruled it a suicide.”

  His eyebrows snap together. “I don’t understand. You told them about the two men? As in, filed an official police report?”

  “I did. I told them about the masks and the guns with silencers and—”

  “Guns with silencers?”

  I nod, wrapping my arms around myself. I’m so cold my teeth are beginning to chatter. “I saw them, through the coats in the hallway. Well, technically, I spotted just one gun, but later, when I saw them again, there were two, so I assume—”

  “Later?” His jaw flexes. “You saw them up close again?”

  “Not up close, no. They were about a block away. It was after this.” I jerk my chin toward the laptop. “They ran after me, and I saw them. They each had a gun.”

  “Ski masks too?”

  “Yes.” I strain to recall the two figures, but other than their general size and the guns in their hands, they’re blurry in my mind. “At least I’m pretty sure.”

  Nikolai’s gaze sharpens. “But not certain?”

  “I… no.” Which is stupid of me. I should’ve been paying attention, should’ve memorized every tiny detail so I could—

  “Was that the only other time you saw them? The only time they came after you?”

  “No.” A shiver racks my body. “Not even close.”

  His face is a mask of barely restrained fury. “Tell me everything.”

  So I do. I tell him about the black pickup truck with tinted windows that nearly ran me down as I was coming out of the police station, and how it happened again in a Walmart parking lot barely an hour after I reported the first attempt. I tell him about the fire at the local motel where I booked a room to avoid sleeping in the apartment, and about a van that nearly ran me off the road once I was already on the run. I tell him about my narrow miss at an Airbnb in Omaha, where I stopped for some much-needed rest a couple of weeks ago, only to end up escaping through the window in the middle of the night when I heard scratching noises at the door.

  “The lock. They were picking it.” Nikolai’s jaw is clenched tight. “If you hadn’t woken up—”

  “Yes. And there were other instances where I thought they might’ve been close, like the time I spotted a black pickup with tinted windows pulling up to a gas station just as I was pulling out. I was so paranoid by then, though, that it could’ve been my imagination. Or maybe not. Maybe it was them. I don’t know. All I know is they kept coming after me, and the only thing I could do was keep moving. That is, until I ran out of money.”

  “Which is when you came across my ad.”

  “Yes.” I swallow thickly. “I’m sorry, Nikolai. I really am. I wasn’t thinking straight when I applied for the position. I was down to a few dollars, and I was terrified because they’d just found me again, and they were getting bolder, shooting at me in broad daylight. I’ll leave, I swear I will. You don’t even need to pay me for the week. I’ll find another job and—”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Jerking up to his feet, he props his fists on the table and leans in. His voice is harsh. “I told you, you’re not going anywhere.”

  I scramble to my feet and back away. “Nikolai, please. I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to endanger your family. I’ll go today. Right now. Before they figure out I’m here and…” My heart climbs into my throat as he advances on me, eyes like fire and brimstone. “Please. I swear I—”

  His hands close around my upper arms in an iron grip. “You’re not leaving,” he growls, and yanking me toward him, he crushes his lips to mine.

  43

  Nikolai

  I devour her mouth with all the fury and fear inside me, all the hunger I’ve been holding back. So much makes sense now: her starved appearance and her lumberjack appetite, the puncture wounds on her arm and the nightmares that assault her every night. For weeks, they’ve hunted her, seeking to exterminate her, snuff her out of existence, and on that day in Boise, they nearly succeeded.

  A couple of inches to the right, and the bullet would’ve torn through her skull.

  The entire flight home, I shook with rage, and that was before I knew the rest of it. Before I knew how many times she came close to dying. If she hadn’t woken up to hear the locks getting picked, or jumped out of the way of that pickup truck… Fuck, if she’d just so much as breathed louder in that coat closet, she wouldn’t be here today.

  I wouldn’t be holding her, tasting her.

  I wouldn’t know what it’s like to have found the other half of my soul.

  Her head falls back under the brutal pressure of my lips, her hands clutching desperately at my arms, and I know I should slow down, be gentle, but I can’t. Whatever restraint I’d possessed is gone, burned to ash in the fires of my fury, decimated by my fear for her.

  There was so little of what she told me in Konstantin’s report, so many suspicious blanks in the police files he’d pulled for me. No mention of the two masked men in her mother’s apartment, nothing about the attempted hit-and-runs. Even her emails to the journalists, the ones Konstantin’s hackers found in her sent folder, don’t appear to have reached their destination, as if someone has had her messages blocked
or marked as spam. And then there are all the erased and damaged tapes, likely those that would’ve served as proof of the other attempts on her life.

  Someone went to enormous trouble to kill her mother and cover their tracks, someone with massive resources, and the fact that I don’t know who it is eats at me like acid.

  Breathing hard, I wrench my mouth away from hers and meet her dazed gaze. “You’re not leaving.”

  I wasn’t going to let her go before, but now that I know she’s in mortal danger, I will do whatever it takes to keep her here. I will literally chain her to me if I have to.

  She blinks up at me, her kiss-swollen lips parting. “But—”

  “But nothing. I don’t want to hear it again. You’re mine now, understand?” My voice is harsh, guttural. I’m frightening her, I can see it, but I can’t stop myself, can’t place the beast back on its leash.

  She opens her mouth to respond, but I don’t let her. Roughly, I slide my hand into her hair and grip a fistful, holding her still as I swoop in for another deep, marauding kiss. There’s something dark and twisted in the way I need her, in this compulsion I feel to claim her. My hunger for her emanates from the deepest, most savage part of me, one that I’ve done my best to hide from her and from the world at large… one that my sister saw that awful winter night, much to her detriment.

  Chloe is right to be wary of me.

  I’m not a normal, gentle man.

  Civilization is just another suit I wear.

  She stiffens under my assault at first, but after a moment, her body softens against mine, her arms wrapping around my neck as she gives in to the heated need consuming us. She embraces me as I fuck her with my tongue and eat at her soft, lush lips, holds on to me as I bear her down to the table, my hands roaming greedily over her hips, her ribcage, the small, plump mounds of her breasts.