Sutton
I know it's Nicolai as soon as he breathes the first word, and I don't know what he's playing at by calling me princess. That's Jason's nickname for me, and he knows it. I think I know what he's doing though; trying to prove that I'm weak and defenseless out here in the park by myself.
Well, fuck that, and fuck him if he thinks that's the case.
I use my thumb to spin the ring on my index finger a couple centimeters toward me. I unscrew the rose off the top in one smooth movement, lift my hand behind him, and grip the back of his neck, letting the blade gently scrape across his skin.
He hisses and his hand leaves my mouth, but he doesn't loosen his grip on my waist. In fact, he clutches me tighter.
With my head free to move, I rest against his chest and look up at him.
"You think I'm completely helpless, Nicolai? That I'm too defenseless and naïve to be able to protect myself? I'm not. I'm not weak," I whisper, running the blade dangerously down his neck.
He shifts behind me and puts some space between us before turning me around to face him, and once again, I'm struck by how fucking gorgeous he is. I tuck the blade back into my ring, covering it.
Goddamnit, Sutton, stop it.
"I don't think you're weak, Sutton," he says, walking over toward the brick wall opposite us. It's secluded enough that anyone who happens to walk by won't hear our conversation, but still illuminated by the amber glow of the lamplight.
I guess he expects me to follow. I want to hear what he has to say, so I do.
"Well, it seems that most everyone else does, so—"
He spins around to face me, his lip curled in irritation.
"I'm not everyone else," he snaps, then pinches the bridge of his nose like I've given him a headache. "Sorry, I—I just don't want you out here unprotected when there's something—someone—after you. I wanted to make you—"
My eyebrows furrow as I hop up on the brick wall, resting my hands between my spread knees. "You know something specific about what's going on?"
He shakes his head, pacing in front of me. "Not exactly. But I'm trying to find out, and I needed to talk to you and just..." He takes a deep breath and exhales harshly. "Thank you for coming."
His demeanor is strange. Nicolai used to never be so nervous and jumpy. But he's not scaring me...just concerning, is all.
"Of course," I murmur. "I was too curious to know what it was you wanted to talk to me about. You know, after so many years away."
I also would never miss the chance to pretend for even one second that nothing has changed.
Now that I'm looking at him a bit closer, it looks like he hasn't slept in days, like stress is eating away at him and keeping him from feeling an ounce of peace.
"Nicolai, what's wrong?" I ask, my voice low so as not to spook him.
He just keeps pacing for a moment until he finally turns to me and meets my gaze, his hazel eyes dark with an emotion I can't quite place. "You still keep the books for the club, right?"
"Uh, yeah. All of them, actually. Why?"
"Have you noticed anything strange in the past few months?"
"Strange? Strange how?"
"I don't know, like...any abnormally large withdrawals or transactions with irregular merchants, anything like that."
My skin heats and I shift where I sit as I remember the odd deposits in the offshore bank accounts. "No, I haven't. What are you insinuating?"
"I've just heard some rumors that there's been some shady business going on with some of the strip clubs in town and—"
"Well, not Wicked Sins," I cut in, the flower that had bloomed in my chest earlier slowly drooping to a shriveled-up stem. "I know my dad hasn't always been perfect, but he's not doing anything illegal, Nicolai. I resent the insinuation that my place of employ—"
He steps closer, placing an arm on either side of my body, caging me in. "That's another question I have, mala tigrica. Why are you playing piano at your father's club?"
Mala tigrica. That phrase scratches something in my brain, a place way back in the corner of my mind that I haven't visited in a long time. But I can't—
A warm palm on my kneecap brings me back to the present and my eyes snap to Nicolai's. "What did you say?"
"I said, why are you playing at your father's club?" Nicolai lifts his hand from my leg and my heart jumps to my throat when he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Your talent has only grown in the past three years; your playing is exquisite, Sutton. You should be attending Julliard or in the pit at a Broadway show. That was your dream."
The gentleness of his voice, the way his touch lingers on the column of my neck. My pulse flutters under his fingertips, and suddenly I feel lightheaded.
"I was supposed to—" Staring at my hands in my lap, I clear my throat and try again, unable to meet his eyes. "I got a part in the pit for Moulin Rouge. Principal pianist."
He tilts his head and his hand drifts around to my chin, lifting it so he can see my face. "You did? Sutton, that's incredible. I always knew you'd—"
"It doesn't matter because I had to turn it down," I say, lifting my hands and gently pushing him away from me so I can slide off the wall and put some space between us.
"What?" he exclaims, coming up behind me and grabbing my wrist, spinning me around to face him. "Why would you do that? That's everything you've always wanted! Even I know how hard it is to—"
"Why do you think?" I cry, rage simmering just under the surface, rage I've wanted to let out but had no one to listen. Because everyone in my life is a reason I had to give it up—my dad, Jason...even Dominique. If I scream and yell at them, I'm too close to the problem. I'm not just venting. I'm blaming. Because in my heart, I feel like it's their fault. Even though I know they're just trying to protect me.
I'm so fucking tired of being protected. I want to live. But I just don't think it's in the cards for me.
"I'm just playing the hand I was dealt, Nicolai. It's not the hand I wanted, but it's the one I've got."
He just looks at me for a moment, his eyes dancing all over my face, and I swear my body heats a couple more degrees in the span of three seconds. Before I realize what's happening, he's walking toward me and I'm matching his steps in reverse until my ass hits the brick wall on the opposite side of the one where we started.
"Sometimes you have to take what you want," he whispers, crowding me and making it impossible for me to move even if I wanted to. Which, to be honest, I don't. When he leans closer to me, his nose is mere centimeters from brushing mine, and it feels like there isn't enough oxygen in the park to fill my lungs.
"Nicolai, please," I whimper, and I don't even know what I'm begging him for. To move? To come closer?
"Please what, Sutton? What are you asking me for?" His breath is cool and minty, and I want to pull him closer to feel it on my lips, but at the same time, a shiver runs through my veins that makes me feel like I should push him away.
"I don't know," I murmur, my eyelids fluttering shut as his mouth brushes against mine and I rest my palms on his chest.
"Yes, you do." His voice is low, challenging...almost menacing, but even so, I find myself sliding my hands up and into his hair. "Good girl. Take what you want."
I squeeze my thighs together at his praise, and I'm surprised at how quickly I make the decision.
I can't stop myself. Not this time. For years, I had a crush on him, regretted not telling him how I felt before he left, and now, here he is standing right in front of me, telling me to kiss him.
How can I not?
"Oh, fuck it," I murmur, rising to my tiptoes and twisting his t-shirt in my other hand, pulling him down just enough to close the millimeter of space between us.
The groan that comes from deep within his chest heats my blood and leaves me craving more of his touch. His arms slide around my waist and pull me flush against him, the hard ridge of his erection pressing into my belly. I let out a surprised gasp, nipping at his bottom lip, which just seems to spur him on.
"Fuck, Sutton," he breathes against my mouth between kisses, as though he can't bear to separate from me for more than a couple of seconds. "You have no idea how—"
His phone cuts through the moment, and we both still. "No fucking way I'm answering that," he grits out, his forehead pressed against mine as he removes one hand from me long enough to reach into his pocket and silence the ringing.
"Fine with me," I say, and he grins, lifting me off my feet and planting me on the very edge of the wall. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist and tug him closer, until the bulge behind his zipper is pressed right against the seam of my damp jean shorts.
Nicolai raises an eyebrow and a smirk that sends little electric pulses all the way to my clit turns up the corner of his plump lips. "Goddamn, Sutton."
"What?" I ask, an innocent lilt to my voice. "You seemed to want to be close to me. I thought you might want to feel the effect you've had on me in the past few minutes. Can you feel it, Nicolai?"
I'm not usually this bold. Well, I shouldn't say that; I've never had a chance to be or not be bold before. And to be honest, I'd always wanted my first moment like this to be with Nicolai Marković, even when I thought that would be an impossibility.
He presses into me, and I lean my head back, an embarrassingly high-pitched mewl escaping my throat as he puts pressure on just the right spot. "That's all for me, mala tigrica?"
"Yes, it's alw—"
Thank god, his phone rings a second time, saving me from making a really embarrassing declaration.
"Dođavola," he curses, and I remember enough Serbian to know he's annoyed.
"Answer it," I say, a little out of breath as I move back and nod to his pocket. "It's okay. It's clearly important."
Irritation mixed with lust flashes in his hazel eyes, but he does as I say after glancing at the caller ID. "Hey, can I call you b—" Whoever is on the other end of the line cuts him off, and he falls silent as he listens.
I just sit there, swinging my legs against the brick, picking at the frayed hem of my cutoffs. This isn't awkward at all...just made out with my ex-best friend, rubbed myself against him like a fucking cat in heat, and now he's on the phone taking a damn business call.
"You did?" he exclaims, and I jump, gaze flying to him as I try to work out what's going on. "No, that's—okay, okay. I'll be there in ten. Yeah, okay, bye."
"What was that about?" I ask, knowing damn well he isn't going to tell me, and disappointed that he's about to leave.
"Oh, just work bullshit," he says, shoving his phone in his pocket. "I have to go take care of it, though. If I don't, the boss will have a heart attack."
My heart sinks and I look down at my lap. "That's okay, I'll just—"
His fingers are under my chin in less than two seconds, tipping my head back up so he can look into my eyes. "Hey, don't do that. Do you have any idea how many fantasies you just fulfilled? With that one makeout session? I've been wanting that for as long as I can remember."
"Really?" I ask, cocking my head to the side. "You're not just making that up to get something from me? To get back at my father? Because you hate Jason and think it'll piss him off?"
I don't know why I'm saying all this shit; maybe it's because I feel like all this is too good to be true. If Nicolai is here, kissing me, wanting me, there must be a catch.
He crosses his arms and looks down at me with a stern expression on his face, and I notice that he's got more stubble than usual. I wonder what it would feel like between my thighs.
Focus, Sutton.
"Why would I make something up that haunted my every waking moment to the point where I had to force myself to stop thinking of it? I had to literally train myself to never let your name run through my head. I—" He grits his teeth and shakes his head once. "I have to go, Sutton. But please...be careful."
I roll my eyes and hop off the wall. "Good god, not you too. I can't even turn around without someone telling me to be careful. What am I supposed to be careful of? My hair getting caught in the revolving door or the elevator getting stuck? I hardly even go anywhere."
Nicolai grasps my wrist and pulls me close to him. "I mean it, Sutton. This isn't a game. Don't say anything about what I said about the business. To anyone. Definitely not Jason. Not even your dad."
I wrinkle my nose and yank my wrist out of his grip. "What? I tell my dad everything about the business. It's his, after all. If there's something potentially going on, shouldn't he know about it?"
"For fuck's sake, Sutton. Don't be foolish. If you open your mouth about this and he doesn't know about it, you could start World War Three and you are not prepared. And if you tell Jason..." He shakes his head. "Just keep as far away from that fucker as you can. I have a bad feeling about him."
My skin prickles and anger sears through my gut. "Leave Jason out of this, please. He was one of the only people who was there for me when you left."
I know it's petty to bring that up, but I don't like him talking shit about Jason. I never have. Even though I'm not very happy with Jason right now myself.
"How would you know anything about my dad and what he knows or doesn't know about his business? Why are you coming around telling me what I can and can't say to my own father? That's all I need— a man telling me what to do."
Nicolai's lip curls. "That's your life, though, isn't it, Sutton? All you are is a puppet for your fath—"
My palm cracks across his cheek so fast that I barely register what I've done until I'm shaking out my hand a couple seconds later.
"Fuck, that hurt," I mutter, clenching my teeth against the sting. When I look up at Nicolai, my rage just burns deeper when I realize the hit didn't even faze him. In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd think he liked it.
"Don't say anything to anyone, Sutton. I fucking mean it," he growls, leaning down close to my face as if I hadn't just slapped him. "If you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Take it however you want to. As long as you do what I say."
I don't nod, shake my head, or give him any indication that I heard his command before I say, "Forget this ever happened, Nicolai. Meeting you here was a big fucking mistake."
He doesn't say another word, just stands there and stares at me until I'm so uncomfortable under the weight of his gaze that I turn and run back to the safety of my building.