Besides, I might have a more adequate plan for Clara.
Prince Charming better watch his fucking back.
6
NIKOLAI
So I realized that I need to chill the fuck out.
Brandon who?
The guy who will take my cock between his lips and thank me for it, that’s who.
No. Jesus Christ.
Chill, Kolya.
Just chill for one fucking second, dude.
Though it’s impossible to convince him of that when I’ve been spiraling for over twenty-four hours.
Ever since I saw that atrocious scene with Clara.
While he only has that one picture of her on his IG, she definitely flaunts him all over hers.
My man x
Babe, you keep me alive x
Isn’t he the most handsome man ever? x
Love you, sexy x
Blah fucking blah.
According to her posts, they’ve been together for about two years.
Fuck that right the fuck off.
My sister Maya, the social media detective of the family, said they’re in an on-again, off-again relationship. She thought I wanted to fuck Clara, to which she scrunched her nose and told me to stay away because she was just so hung up on this Brandon guy and I could do so much better.
Couldn’t care less about that. One piece of information remained in my head.
On and off for two years.
Interesting.
Anyway, I don’t care, because I’m chilling. In the pool, floating face down. Living my best life.
I can fall asleep here. Sweet.
Though I’d probably die, and that’s not exactly convenient.
Whatever. I’ll just remain here for a bit more to relax. I sure as fuck need to stay still for a goddamn second and not entertain stupid thoughts like maybe I should go for a morning run tomorrow.
I didn’t today, because if I saw pretty Clara again, I would be tempted to ruin her features. And I never, and I mean never, get thoughts of violence about girls in general.
Mom brought me up to respect women. Cheer them on, not bring them down.
But something about that Clara…
A commotion brings me out of my peaceful contemplations that are filled with blood. Lots of blood gushing from all her fucking holes.
I lift from the water with a gasp and check my watch. Three minutes and fifty-five seconds. Not bad.
I’ve been breath training for three years now and the time I spend without breathing is improving.
Aside from riding my bike with Jeremy, this happens to be the only method that helps me wind down. Probably because I’m almost dead at that time.
There’s also brutalizing people, but that only pumps me up and doesn’t bring me down from the blood-soaked phase.
Considering my brain’s tendency to get high as a kite at unfortunate moments, I had to find a coping mechanism to counter that loud phase.
I lift myself up at the edge of our indoor pool located in the underground level of the mansion. Usually, it’s hard to hear anything when I’m here, but something’s different now.
Is it trouble? Fuck yeah.
I walk to the bench, shaking water from my hair, then use the towel to dry the haphazard strands.
I pick up my phone and pause at the notification on the top of my screen. I open it so fast, I nearly drop the phone.
So I might have been messaging Brandon on IG. You know, because I’m a goddamn pest like that.
He didn’t answer them.
For three days.
My text were along the lines of:
It’s me ;)
Nikolai, in case the handle didn’t give me away.
Wanna hang out? Like friends?
Ok, that was a lie. Being friends wouldn’t work since you’re such a delight to be around. All standoffish and grumpy and shit. The exact opposite of fun.
We could have a drink?
GIF of a bored kid tapping the table
We can do this all day, Prince Charming. Love talking to your inbox. What a fucking thrill.
Why do you always use the same hashtag? Is there a meaning behind that?
Why do you play lacrosse?
Can you send me your playlists that you listen to all the time? Not really into rock, but I love discovering new music.
Also, isn’t rock too extreme for your prim-and-proper image? Not that I’m judging. I actually dig the contradiction. Kinda makes it fun to try and figure you out.
Why did you want to become an artist?
Aren’t you too uptight to be into something that requires people to let go of their creativity? Or are you different when painting?
Please tell me you do that half naked. It’s blasphemous to hide beautiful bodies, you know.
Want to exchange numbers? Here’s mine XXXXXXXX.
Hello, lotus flower’s inbox, lovely to see you again this evening.
You looked hot today.
Not that I’m hitting on you or anything since you’re sooo straight.
Let’s consider this my hopeless one-sided crush on a straight guy. You don’t have to reciprocate.
Unless you want to eyebrow wiggle emoji sunglasses emoji
Yup. All good. My texts are still sitting prettily in here. Will check again later to make sure.
I sent that text two days ago, before I saw him with Clara.
I didn’t text him after that, but now, I see the first reply from him. Earlier this evening.
Stop bugging me or I’ll block you.
But he didn’t block me. He even accepted my text that was in his requests since I follow him and he obviously doesn’t follow me.
I narrow my eyes on the screen. Is there a meaning behind this?
Why would he reply days later?
Fuck this shit. Seriously. I’m losing my few remaining brain cells because of this asshole.
I put on my shorts, and yes, I was swimming naked. If any of the guys came in, well, tough shit.
When I arrive at the main hall, I’m greeted by one of my guards who my parents made follow us here. Jeremy and I use them to cause mayhem more than anything.
“Sir,” he starts with a Russian accent. “I thought you might want to know that your cousin Killian was attacked. He’s upstairs now.”
I narrow my eyes. “Upstairs, as in alive, or upstairs, as in, in his casket?”
A crease appears on his forehead and he says slowly, almost like he’s not sure, “Alive. He lost consciousness, I think.”
Thank fuck.
Kill’s death would probably be inconvenient. Not to mention bad. At least, for Aunt Reina, who’s Mom’s identical twin.
But then again, this is an opportunity for violence.
How will I punish those who hurt my cousin? Punch them to death? Waterboard them? Step on them—in a non-erotic way, of course?
Too many options.
I take the stairs two at a time and swing his door open, my head sliding in first. “Heard Kill nearly got killed. See what I did there? Also, whose head do I have to cut from their body, rip the flesh from, and hang on a stick—”
I stop mid-sentence.
Well, well, well. Guess who’s here?
Killian’s lying in his bed like a Sleeping Beauty, sans the beauty, and his new girlfriend, Glyn, and Gareth are by his side.
But that’s not what makes me stop. It’s Glyn’s beautiful specimen of an older brother. Also known as the asshole Brandon.