Selina
"Come on, let's get up before you catch a cold," said Nikolai as he straightened up and helped me to my bare feet, and I noticed that he was barefoot too, and I don't know why but I find it intimate. Keeping an arm around my waist, he grabbed the high chair against the wall with his other hand and placed it in front of us, facing the mirror.
"Climb up," he said, tapping the dark leather of the seat, causing me to furrow my brows as I looked at the seat and then at him, "why?", "so I can dry your hair," he replied as if it were the most normal thing. "I can dry my hair by myself," I replied, chin up, eyes narrowing, which made him raise an eyebrow, "I know you can, but let me do it," he said, his gaze filled with determination, and frankly, I'm too tired for this battle. I finally sighed and approached the chair, turning to climb onto it, but with one hand it's not easy; his arm that hadn't left my waist suddenly lifted me with disconcerting ease, and I found myself seated with my head just below his chin. Our eyes met through the mirror as he slowly withdrew his hand from my body, it slid over my stomach and his thumb brushed the underside of my left breast, making me shiver. He stepped back and walked around me, moving towards the counter before bending down to open one of the drawers to retrieve a towel, and I couldn't help but glance at his behind, quite visible through the bottom of the gray sweatpants he was wearing. I sighed and looked up, but froze when our eyes met through the mirror, my face starting to heat up as he straightened up with a smirk.
I didn't move, I didn't even breathe as he slid back behind me, gathering my hair in my back, his fingers brushing my neck, making me sigh softly; he began to dry them with gentle and precise movements. I closed my eyes, gradually relaxing, a trust that I didn't even realize in this man made me let down my guard. Listening to his breathing and feeling his warmth on my back, sleep took me without me even realizing it.
Nikolaï
Selina immediately turns to her son, her hand resting on her belly after I've laid her on the bed, I tuck the covers gently and straighten up. I clench my fists in the pockets of my pants, my jaw tight as the state I found her in doesn't leave me; I only wanted to make sure the painkiller was working, but no one had answered when I knocked. Upon entering, I didn't find her in the bed next to Rafael, and I froze upon hearing a moan coming from the bathroom, which I quickly joined. My world stopped when I saw her on her knees, gripping the counter with all her strength, not to mention the whistling escaping her lips as she struggled to breathe. Against me, in my arms, she was freezing, trembling incessantly, her face twisted with pain and her tears had shaken me.
I sigh and leave the room, closing the door gently, trying to calm myself down; I head to the office where Sasha spends most of his time, given that he handles the paperwork. As Sienna described during our meeting, each of us had a specific role in the organization: Grigori was the leader, the one who inspired our men and led them; Sasha took care of all administrative and legal matters as well as recruiting new members, while Roman was more of our figure in the field. I handled strategic actions; I decided where, when, and how exchanges and meetings would take place, and as Sienna pointed out once again, Elif was the shadow figure who helped each of us. She guided us, advised us, and her numerous contacts had helped us many times.
I stop in front of the large windows and take out my phone, dialing an unregistered number. "Ivanov," the man answers on the first ring in a neutral tone without intonation, with an Italian accent. "What's he doing?" I ask, Selina's sobs still echoing in my head. "He's completely lost it; he tried to catch the first plane to Russia, but his father stopped him. He's on his way to the States now, probably to meet your brother," he replies as I hear the sound of his lighter probably lighting his thirtieth cigarette of the day. "He's completely obsessed with this woman, Ivanov; his son rarely crosses his mind. All he wants is her...", "I want him dead, Abbiati," I cut in with a dark voice, my teeth clenched.
He chuckles, clearly showing his disdain, "Believe me, you're not the first, and certainly not the last. Unfortunately, it's impossible. He's the sole heir of that pig Rasili; killing him will lead to a war that will make the last one look like a children's cartoon. And who do you think the Italians will come looking for as an heir after his death?" he asks, making me clench my jaw, Rafael, "No one will touch Rafael or Selina; I'll break their damn necks with my own hands."
An intense silence settles for a moment, where I only hear the crackling of his cigarette as he takes a drag, and he finally speaks in the same dull and annoying voice, "I see." "What?" I growl, turning away from the window to slump into the copper chair behind the desk, crossing my legs over it, enjoying the absence of my sister-in-law who is unlikely to appear out of nowhere as usual.
"Are you going to make her yours?" he suddenly asks, and I freeze, his question catching me off guard, make her mine? Keep her close to me? Me, a monster, hurting and killing? After all she's been through to escape exactly the same kind, "I'm not the man she needs," I reply, gripping the phone, staring into space, "what if you're exactly the one she needs?" he retorts, making me furrow my brows, "what do you mean?"
I hear him grunt and a sound of leather as if he's getting up from a couch, "all I'm saying is that a mere man won't be able to fight the monster chasing her, Nikolaï," he responds before hanging up, leaving me with my thoughts. I sigh, closing my eyes, letting my head fall back, a monster against a monster then?
My phone rings in my hand, and I can't help but let a smirk appear, she and her damn sixth sense, "Are you not sleeping?" Elif asks, her voice still as soft as ever, well, when she's not yelling behind her sons or even us.
"And you? Hasn't the jet lag knocked you out?" I retort, smiling when she laughs, "me ? Who survived sleepless nights dealing with Roman's crises when he couldn't find his dinosaur, it's not jet lag that's going to knock me down, aptal, ( idiot)" she replies, making me grimace at the memories; Roman and his childhood crises were one of the most horrible things to deal with. "Does Grigori still want to slit my throat?" I ask, sighing and rubbing my forehead where a headache was starting to appear. "Come on, Niko, we both know he doesn't really blame you. He's just worried, like me and you, it's just that his way of expressing it is a bit more..." "bloody? Violent? Murderous?" "Excessive," she says, grumbling, making me chuckle, very excessive indeed.
"Tell me what's really bothering you," she says as I hear her open the glass door leading to the terrace just above the beach, the sound of waves behind reminding me of how much I missed this house. It's been over three months since we haven't returned there, mostly staying here or traveling to distract my sons.
"Nothing that requires your worry, I have it under control..." "No,no, no, none of that with me, little Niko. Don't make me get on a plane to come back," she interrupts. "Should I remind you that we're only four years apart?" I ask at the nickname, making her snort disdainfully, "I'm waiting, Niko," she replies with her mom voice that always gets to me.
"I don't know, Elif, I... I'm afraid of making a mistake," I grumble, closing my eyes. Admitting that I'm scared, especially of making a mistake? Something I would never do, but here I am facing Elif, the one I've cried to, the one who has seen me at my worst.
"Oh Niko, I still remember the first time you opened up to me a few weeks after I arrived," she says with compassion, and yes, I remember that night when our bond truly formed.
Nikolaï, sixteen years old.
Grigori left hours ago, the guys at the Nevada border had called to inform him of a problem during an exchange with the Italians. Those bastards thought they could do anything ever since father... I clenched my fists, ready to head to the basement gym to blow off steam after my argument with my brother, with father, I participated in exchanges and sometimes even meetings, but Grigori kept me out of the business, I was sixteen for god's sake!
Despite the late hour, the lights in the Grand living room, like mother were calling it, caught my attention, and as I approached, I furrowed my brows upon seeing a figure on the terrace. I recognized the long hair of Elif Ozdemir, my brother's new wife.
I didn't know what to think of her, at first; I thought she was weak, not fit to take on the role left by my mother, but that perception was quickly shattered when she shot Uncle Anton during last weekend's dinner. My eyes stopped on the blanket on the couch armrest, Mom's blanket, I looked back at the woman on the terrace, her hair swaying in the cold night wind.
I grunted and grabbed the soft blanket, joining her, she looked up as she heard me approach, her dark eyes meeting mine. Mother had blue eyes like mine and Roman's; they sparkled every time she smiled.
Elif had brown eyes, almost black; it was mesmerizing, she exuded something that commanded respect, much like mother did, her way of carrying herself, moving, speaking, or even looking, but none of that was present when she smiled at me as I draped the blanket over her shoulders.
"Thank you," she said softly, a voice I wouldn't have heard over the sound of the waves and the wind if I hadn't paid attention, and only now did I notice her moist cheeks and reddened eyes. Something tightened in my chest seeing her like this, I grimaced and took a step back, wanting to retreat, to turn away, to leave. I didn't want a new mother; I didn't want to form a bond with this woman; I didn't want to feel the same sensation I felt when mother died.
"I don't want to take her place or impose myself in your lives," she murmured, stopping me, and suddenly, I understood the reason for her tears, Sasha, I never thought that idiot kid's words could hurt her like this. I sighed and sat down on the swing next to her, causing it to sway gently, "he's just an idiot. You shouldn't pay attention to his words," I said, my eyes fixed on the horizon where the dark sea and sky merged. I heard her sniffle, her head bowed, and I frowned seeing her scratching the inside of her wrist, leaving marks. Before I even realized it, I grabbed her hand to stop her and she lifted her face, tears streaming down, "I just wanted... I just wanted to help him. I didn't think it would hurt him," she said, her trembling lips making mine tighten. I'll break that bastard's neck tomorrow morning.
I look at her for a few more seconds before pulling on the sleeve of my sweatshirt and wiping her cheeks. 'When our parents... left, we were like headless chickens, not knowing what to do, where to go. Grigori was overwhelmed by his new role, trying to assert himself, crushed at the same time by guilt, unable to take care of us. I, who was already not the king of sociability, barely left my room to look for food that I would eat back in my room. Sasha, angry at this sudden loneliness in the absence of our mother with whom he spent most of his time, and don't even get me started on Roman, who hasn't said a word since their deaths.' I lean back, letting myself go against the seat back, swaying gently, enjoying her legs crossed on the seat.
My sudden loquacity surprises even myself. Maybe I felt so comfortable because we weren't so far apart in age, or because since her arrival, she had been making a lot of effort for us. 'But since you've been here, Grigori has been doing well. Seeing you take care of us seems to relieve him, and the way you behave with him makes him... more alive. When he talks to you, he has this way of looking at you that makes me uncomfortable, almost disgust me.' She starts laughing while sniffing at the same time, which makes me smile. She is... likable.
"When you locked the door of my room to prevent me from ENTERING, I wanted to throw you into the pool honestly, but over time, I understood what you wanted to do. To bring us back together around the same table, to reform our family. But well, you didn't have to do it while I was in just a bath towel," I add, grumbling, making her chuckle. "As for Sasha, even though he's an idiot, he's good deep down, it's just that he's scared. What he feels towards you scares him, I know because I'm scared too, we're afraid to attach ourselves again and as mother, you..." I don't finish my sentence, feeling my damn eyes burn. Blayt'. (Damn)
Cold hands suddenly glide against my cheeks, turning my face towards hers, her dark eyes reflecting the determination that I've seen several times since she arrived, during her arguments with Grigori trying to impose her ideas or with Sasha to make him do something, "listen to me well Niko..." she says, using for the first time the nickname other than mother and it doesn't bother me, "I will never leave, not as long as you need me and even after, I'm a real clingy. I won't die, not before seeing my grandchildren and your grandchildren, not before we find ourselves on this same swing watching them drown each other into the pool. Promise," she says, her eyes not leaving mine and my body moves on its own, my arms wrapping around her waist, my face against her stomach holding her as I feel the tears flow and even sobs, the sobs that have been stuck in my throat since she left, my mom. And Elif holds me against her, her hand rubbing my back, her lips touching my neck.
"Fear isn't a bad thing Niko, as long as it doesn't control you. Have confidence in yourself, never doubt what you feel, I'll always be behind you to support you Nikolaï. Even if I have to drug Grigori with sleeping pills for the days to come."
I laugh knowing she would totally be capable of doing it, it's not like she's never done it before, "thank you Elif, call me if you need anything," "don't worry about me Niko, all I need right now is for you to take your feet off this desk," she says as I stop breathing. "How...", "I can recognize the sound of the clock I spent three hours buying Niko," she says as I look up at the huge clock behind me that I glare at while removing my feet from the table.
"Goodnight Nikolaï" .
"Goodnight Elif".