Nicolai
She just glares at me, and when her eyes narrow, I know she's still angry from the other night. I don't blame her; I acted like a complete dickhead. But I can't change my tune now, or she'll definitely scream. I need her to continue her hate parade or she one hundred percent won't believe I've had a turnaround and think I'm here to sneak attack for sure.
I keep my arm tightly around her shoulders, my palm clamped over her mouth, and attempt to ignore the intoxicating scent of her perfume—jasmine and vanilla.
"Sutton. Are you going to be quiet or am I going to need to gag you and then keep old Henry quiet with the gun to his head?" I shift next to her so she can feel my .38 against her thigh.
A shiver runs through her, and her eyes cut to me, fear passing through them for a moment before she finally nods.
"Good girl," I say, removing my hand but staying right next to her in case she makes any sudden movements.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Nicolai?" she seethes, wiping her face with the back of her hand as if having my skin against hers was just too disgusting to abide. "I feel like you humiliated me enough at the park the other night, so what more could you possibly need?"
I ignore her smartass comment and say, "Believe it or not, I am here to help you, if you'll fucking let me."
"Help me?" she asks with a scoff as she sits back against the leather seat. "That's a fucking joke. Why in the hell would you care about helping me?"
"Contrary to what you believe, I don't want to see you get—"
She holds up her hand. "I don't need your help. I am perfectly fine by myself, and I have been since you left." There's a quiver in her voice that I can't ignore, and the desire to reach out and touch her is so strong that I finally just ball my hands into fists until my nails cut little crescent moons into my palms.
Sutton looks me up and down, and with a lazy, half-lidded gaze, she adds, "Whatever you think I need your help with, trust me; Jason has it handled."
I'm confused. Because her words and the idea that that fucker has his hands on her sends a jealous streak through my nervous system that boils my blood, but the way she says them...fuck. All of that blood and energy shoots straight to my dick.
My brain and my hormones wrestle with each other for a moment before I shift in my seat, hoping she doesn't notice my raging hard-on. "I don't want that fucker handling anything, Sutton. That's part of what I need to talk to you about."
"Oh my God, Nicolai! Do you hear yourself right now? What right do you have to tell me who can handle what in my life?"
"I kn—" The car slows and I roll down my window enough to see where we are. Almost to her building. Fuck. "Tap on the partition."
"What?"
"Now. Tap on it and tell him you're on the phone, need to complete your call, and you'll be inside in a moment."
"He'll never let me do that," she protests, shaking her head. "Dominique told him not to take his eyes off me."
My nostrils flare and I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and pull her close to me, my forehead pressing to hers. "Do it, Sutton. Now." I don't have to pretend I'm losing patience with her; she's being obstinate and she's doing it on purpose to piss me off.
"Fine," she grits out, and I release her, sliding around to where the driver won't see me. Glaring at me the whole way, she slides around the opposite side and taps on the partition. "Henry?"
Thankfully, Henry only drops it a couple inches. "Yes, Miss Sutton?"
"I just got a phone call and I really need to finish it up before I get out of the car. Can I meet you in the lobby?"
"Um, I'm not sure I'm supposed to do that, Miss Sutton."
"W-well, it's really important, and I—"
When I let out a snort, she shoots me a glare that could kill, and I smirk at her. Figure it out, I mouth, and she leans down to flip me off close to the floorboard. I just shake my head and lean back against the seat, amused at her flustered attempt to trick this old man.
I have failed Sutton in a lot of ways, but this is one that I never saw coming—she never learned how to pull the wool over somebody's eyes after all the shit we got into as kids? Damn.
She's watching the front seat intently as the old man takes a deep breath, and I assume he's relenting. "Well, all right, but don't take long. Dominique and that Jason fellow will have my head if anything happens to you."
"I promise, it won't be long. I actually really dislike the person I'm talking to, so it's really a matter of me getting rid of them for good," she says sweetly, and my eyebrows pinch together as I hold in my laughter.
That's the best she's got?
Henry shuts off the car and says, "Okay, I will be right here next to the elevator. I'm not going all the way inside. Call me if you need me, okay?"
"Of course."
As soon as he's gone, she turns off the sweetness and growls, "What the fuck do you want? Go ahead, tell me whatever it is, then disappear for another three years. Better yet, just disappear forever. I don't need you, Nicolai. I don't know what you don't fucking get about that."
Damn, I really fucked up with her. She's never going to forgive me for leaving her. Not that I deserve it.
All of a sudden, telling her about all the danger she is in that I'm not even sure the root cause of doesn't even seem that important anymore.
Goddamnit, I want her to know how much I regret leaving her, how sorry I am for the way things turned out.
"Sutton," I say, my voice losing all the bravado it had before, all the bullshit tough guy nonsense gone. "I'm so fucking sorry for that. You don't understand how badly I regret leaving you here."
Her face may as well be made of stone. It's like anything she felt for me is gone, and it's my fault. But I've never had her here in front of me for this long before, alone, willing to listen, so I continue.
"I left because I felt that I had no other choice. I was backed into a corner, and it was either leave or risk everything outside of you. And you know that you were one of the only people that ever mattered to me in this world, but you could be taken care of by all these other people you had in your life. My mom had no one. Nobody but me. I couldn't let—" I shake my head. "It doesn't matter now. I just...I'm fucking sorry, Sutton."
At the mention of my mom, her face softens, and she moves back to my side of the limo and sits next to me. "Wait, Nicolai, what are you saying? Your mom—is she—?"
"Yeah," I clip, nodding once, avoiding her eyes. "She's gone."
"Oh, Nicolai," she whispers, and when I look at her out of the corner of my eye, she's the Sutton I remember. My best friend, the one I hadn't yet abandoned, the one who doesn't loathe the ground I walk on. "I had no idea. When? What happened?"
I shake my head and wipe my hand over my face. "It was about two years ago, and as far as what happened...her habits didn't do her any favors. That's all you need to know."
Sutton cocks her head to the side, and I try like hell to ignore the way that one piece of dark hair that never could stay in her ponytail still falls over her shoulder and collarbone, and how I could trace the freckles on her shoulders to make perfect constellations, and how soft her hand is as she places it on mine and squeezes. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could've been there for you."
What the fuck is happening right now? Angry Sutton was easier to deal with. Angry Sutton was easier to resist. I didn't tell her about my mom for her to put her hand on mine and run her fingertips over the inside of my wrist—she really needs to stop that—I told her about my mom so she might begin to understand why I left.
I pull away from her and put a few inches of distance between us. "Thank you, but listen, I need to tell you—"
"Why did you leave, though?" she blurts. "Because that day, you told me it was because of me."
I close my eyes and inhale, "Sutton, please, I need—"
"No. You wanted to talk about this, you wanted to apologize, and when someone apologizes, don't they generally want forgiveness? And to forgive you, I need to know what made you leave. Especially when I've spent these last three years thinking it was because of me. And why didn't you ever call me or even text me? I mean, I know I told you not to contact me at all, but you should've known I was just mad because—"
Finally, I grab her shoulders and shake her gently. "Sutton! Stop! You're rambling."
She flushes and a hint of a smile flashes across her face for a moment before she sobers and says, "You remembered."
I can't stop myself, even though I know I should, and I lift my hand and push that stubborn strand of hair back over her shoulder.
"If you think I could forget your rambling, you've really lost it." I brush the back of my hand over her collarbone, and she shivers under my touch. "But you only do it when you're nervous," I murmur, keeping my eyes trained on her lips. "Are you nervous, Sutton?"
Her skin reddens and heats under my fingers. "I—No. I mean, kind of. You've been following me around and stuff, showing up at different places, like the park and the bookstore, and then you jumped in my car with me telling me I need to be careful and stuff, so sort of?" I tuck my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing and the blush on her cheeks deepens. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"
Inching closer to her, I slide my hand from her collarbone to the back of her neck, and this time when I grip it, it's not to threaten her, but to hold her gaze and whisper, "If you only knew the things I wanted to—"
Voices come from outside the car, and I immediately recognize them as Dominique and Henry. Sutton and I break apart and she stares at me in horror.
"Oh, fuck, they're coming this way," she whispers. "Dom cannot catch you in here. Shit will hit the fan, and I want to finish this...conversation with you at some point."
You have no idea. But I keep quiet and gently push her toward the door. "Okay, go, tell them you're done with your call, get them inside quick, and I'll sneak out of here when you're gone."
"But when will I see you again?"
This doesn't seem real—Sutton asking if she can see me again. This is not how I imagined this conversation going at all. To be honest, I expected her to knock my ass out on the sidewalk before it was over.
I know I should talk to her about all of the weird shit that's going on, see if she knows any more than I do, but if I see her tomorrow, I can do it then.
And I know full well that when I tell her what I know, and imply that Jason is for sure doing something shady, she might not want to hear it, and we might be back to square one.
Is it so wrong to want a little bit more time with her?
"Can you get out on your own again like the other night? I'll be waiting for you, so you'll be safe."
Please, trust me.
"Yes, tomorrow night, around 11. Everyone should be asleep by then."
"Okay, I'll be there. The same place where we met the other night. Now go."
"Okay." Sutton reaches for the doorhandle, but before she goes, she looks over her shoulder, and dođavola, she just about breaks my fucking heart when she whispers, "Please don't disappoint me again."
And before I can answer, she's gone, and while I sit and wait for their voices to disappear, I replay everything that just happened in my mind (some things more than once).
But I sit forward with a start when something Sutton said echoes through my memory.
"You've been following me around and stuff, showing up at different places, like the park and the bookstore..."
There's one problem with that statement: I never followed her anywhere near a bookstore.