I could have sworn I heard him laugh; then again, I was teetering on the edge of passing out from exhaustion. So, in my weakened state, I probably thought Ryan Gosling was taking his place.
The cool air bit at my skin as he slowly pulled it down over my feet. I shivered and reached for the blankets, but was once again lifted into the air.
"Warning, next time a warning," I gasped as my cold skin met his heat.
For a second his eyes met mine. It felt important, that moment, like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how.
I blinked. I had to. I mean, people blinked in real life. But, because I blinked, we broke eye contact. And the moment disappeared like it hadn't happened in the first place.
He carefully set me in between the satin sheets and pulled the down comforter over me.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Here." He set a brand new cell phone on the nightstand. "Text me if you need anything…"
"Are you leaving?"
"I'm going to go… downstairs," he said in a hard voice. "Don't text me unless you're dying."
"Ha ha." I yawned. "Not yet, Sergio. You're not that lucky."
"No…" he said in a low voice. "I'm really not."
Something told me we weren't talking about my death anymore, but I couldn't stay awake any longer. I succumbed to sleep and dreamed of my faceless knight with dark hair.
At least in my dreams.
He was real.
CHAPTER NINE
Sergio
I SAT AT THE KITCHEN TABLE, tapping my fingers against the tumbler full of whiskey, irritated that my thoughts kept straying to the girl upstairs lying in my bed.
Her white-blond hair had looked like spun silver in the moonlight, and I'd wanted to tangle my hands in it just to see if it felt as soft as it looked, but the minute I'd leaned down, it was like my mind went into shutdown mode, telling me, yet again, that it would be a bad idea.
So I'd jerked back, and nearly pulled her off the bed in my attempt to get her dress off.
Not how I pictured a wedding night going.
I wasn't tired — I was exhausted. But my eyes refused to give in to sleep; instead, I tilted the tumbler back and drank deeply.
"This how all Sicilians celebrate?" a dark voice echoed in the kitchen.
I bit back a snarl. "Nicolai… I don't think we've formally met."
"No." He pulled out a barstool next to me then reached for a glass and poured himself a double. "I don't believe the honor of my handshake has been bestowed upon you just yet."
I rolled my eyes.
"Saw that."
"Wasn't trying to hide my disdain."
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a small sickle tattoo on his left wrist Disgust rolled throughout my body. I knew what it meant. Knew what it represented. The Russian mafia marked its men in plain sight, unlike my family; we marked ourselves where only we could see. It was a humility thing.
There was nothing humble about the Russians.
It was laughable to even think about it. Then again, sitting at the table with a Russian was just as hilarious. Hell, I'd married one. Damn me.
"You'll protect her…" He licked his lips and turned his dark menacing eyes toward me. "…or I'll cut you from belly to chin."
"Doctors and their toys," I muttered.
"I'm excellent at hiding bodies — even better at causing pain but not allowing you to scream it out. I like my victims to suffer in silence."
"How…" I arched an eyebrow. "…utterly poetic."
"Sometimes I listen to classical music while doing it." He smirked.
"That's very Hollywood of you."
"Makes it feel less horrific."
We sat in silence for a few more minutes, both sipping our drinks, refusing to make eye contact.
Finally, when I couldn't take it anymore, I asked the question I'd been dreading all night. "Why are you really here? Clearly, her father isn't aware you're helping us — and I saw you talking to Phoenix earlier."
"I wasn't trying to hide the fact that I need a favor."
"We've already done enough for you," I spat.
"No." He shrugged. "This is more… personal."
My eyes narrowed. "How so?"
"Andi's safe." He frowned. "At least as safe as she's going to be with the likes of you. But others in her family? They're still in danger. I just need the right kind of information in order to save them."
"And when you say them?"
"I mean her."
"Her is who?"
"I keep my secrets well." He grinned. "Do I have your word?"
"You haven't told me anything."
"About Andi," he said slower this time, methodical, as if I was a slow learner.
Then again the booze was starting to do the trick. Already my hands felt heavy, my eyes burned with the need to close off the world and succumb to the darkness of sleep.
"I'll protect her."
"Good." Nicolai let out a breath. "Because her father won't be happy she's disappeared. She's no longer useful to him now that Director Smith is dead, now that her brother is dead. She's…." He sighed.
"A very loose end," I finished.
"She's as good as dead if she gets into the wrong hands."
I fought the urge to bang my head against the granite. "She's already dying."