Daniel steps to my side, still wiping the blood from his nose. “She said to let her go.”
“You keep your mouth shut and send any goodbye messages before I fucking murder you.”
“Knox…” Daniel grabs his arm and shakes his head, speaking slowly though with a firm edge that I’ve never heard from him before, “Let her go. You’re hurting her.”
I don’t know how he noticed it when I’ve been hiding my reaction, but his words prompt Knox out of his haze. He focuses on where his fingers are digging into my arm and releases me with a jerk.
I wince, not because of the pain, but because he’s no longer touching me. I prefer the pain over completely losing his touch.
The pain means he’s there, but its absence is no different than being abandoned.
Daniel sniffs, the blood still coating his nose. “You need to calm the heck down, mate.”
Knox raises his fist and punches him in the face and he jerks back, cursing.
“Fucking fuck, Knox. What the bloody hell is wrong with you? This face is real estate!”
He completely ignores him, his attention solely on me. His hazel eyes are dark and unreadable, a bit scary, even. “This isn’t over.”
The staring contest continues for a few more seconds, or maybe minutes, before he turns and leaves.
As soon as he’s out the door, my feet falter and I nearly drop to the floor.
Oh, God.
Is it supposed to feel this miserable? As if something is tearing up my insides and leaving them out in the open?
The door I’ve been staring at since Knox left is blocked when Daniel stands in front of me. “Are you okay?”
I internally shake my head and focus on him. On the blood that’s trailing down his chin and dripping onto his white shirt and the lapel of his jacket. “I should be the one asking you that. I’m so sorry.”
“He’ll be the one who’s sorry when I sue him for assault.”
“Please don’t do that.”
“You’re still defending him after he fucked up my face? The same face that’s worth millions of dollars and on the cover of countless magazines?”
“I’m really sorry. I’m sure he didn’t mean to.”
“You must really love him if you’re apologizing on his behalf after you clearly broke his heart.”
A ball the size of my fist thickens in my throat. “It’s…complicated.”
“I can see that. He called you Anastasia and I assume it’s not because of some role-play kink I didn’t know he had. Is that why you asked me to come in here? And what’s with the coming on to me bullshit when we both know it’s not true?”
I bite my lower lip. I really didn’t mean for Knox to catch us, not that there was anything going on. I only spilled my water on Daniel and I was trying to wipe it off when Knox walked in.
Daniel dabs the back of his hand against his nose before his scrutinizing attention falls on me. “I might not look like it, but I don’t allow anyone to use me, especially when it comes to hurting my best friend.”
“I’m not using you…I just wanted to ask for your help.”
“Concerning what?”
“Knox’s safety. If you care about him, don’t explain this situation to him. Let him believe that I came on to you.”
“So he’ll hate you?”
My lips tremble. “Yeah.”
“That means he’ll hate me, too, and I’m not game for that. So you’ll have to give me something more to go on with this plan.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m leaving.”
He lets his hand fall to the side and tilts his head as if I finally have his undivided attention. “Why?”
“Because I’m a danger to his life, and if I stay, he’ll be dead in no time.”
Daniel doesn’t react strongly. In fact, he doesn’t react at all, which is to be expected of a lawyer, I guess. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “Explain in more detail.”
“And you’ll help me?”
“If your goal is to protect him, I will.”
Okay.
I can do this.
If there’s anyone who can help me keep Knox away, it’s Daniel. Even if it means hurting him in the process.
However, no amount of emotional pain compares to what would happen to him if he insists on staying with me.
Surprisingly, the words don’t feel heavy when I confess to Daniel, “Because my father is the leader of the New York Russian mafia and Knox is under threat because of that.”
33
KNOX
The need for violence hasn’t left my system.
If anything, it’s growing and intensifying, despite being in the process of murdering the punching bag in my building’s gym.
I keep pummeling on and on, imagining Daniel’s face as its substitute. Or any other man’s face who ever put their hands on her.
Any.
All.
This isn’t normal, is it? Being on the verge of destruction and feeling like I’ll burst any second. It isn’t normal to have urges I thought I got rid of long ago.
Like standing at the top of something high, spreading my arms, and plummeting down, just so I can kill the shadows swirling around me from every side.
Or maybe cutting open my veins so they’ll fucking bleed out so I can stop them from whispering, murmuring, and hissing in my ears.
I haven’t had these thoughts for…years. Or maybe I’ve done a fantastic job pretending they weren’t there anymore.
That I was fine.
Perfect.
Completely over my past
Dad is right, after all. It’s impossible to pretend all is well when it isn’t.
One incident, one moment in time is able to make me backpedal into the worse version of myself.
The version that resisted the urge to jump or cut open my veins because I couldn’t leave Teal. Because I was responsible for my sister and abandoning her was a betrayal of the vow I made to protect her.
But she doesn’t need my protection now. Not only does she have her husband and son, but I can finally admit that she’s in a better place than I am.
I always thought I was her rock and anchor, that I had to be strong for her, but I didn’t stop to think about how much that fake strength would eat away at the edges and seep inside.
That’s how it feels right now—like I’m dissolving from the outside in.
The scene of Anastasia clinging to Daniel keeps replaying at the back of my mind in a loop, in spite of my attempts to stop it. It’s whirling, repeating, and fucking up my breathing.
The way her lips parted when she looked at him and knelt between his legs. Lips that were only mine to kiss. Lips that only smiled at me.
Not anymore, though.
We’re over.
That’s what she said and when I didn’t agree, she proceeded to fucking prove it.
I hit the bag harder until my knuckles and muscles scream with pain and exertion. Until my vision is hazy with sweat and a red mist.
“Are you done murdering the punching bag or should I come back in a bit?”
My head whips to the side to find the fucker Daniel casually leaning against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankles.
I abandon the bag and stride toward him. Thank God the gym is empty, because it’s about to turn into a crime scene.
Sweat drips from my lashes and temples, and the exhaustion from punching the bag slowly recedes as adrenaline moves to the forefront.
Daniel raises his hands and backs away. “Whoa, calm down, mate. You’re making a grave mistake.”
“I’ll worry about that after it happens.”
He keeps backing away and I’m on him, my strides longer and with intent.
“I notarized a new will just now that says if I die under mysterious circumstances, Knox killed me.”
“Might as well make it happen then.”
“You’re being an unreasonable bloody idiot right now.”