Chapter 30 AFTERMATH
NIKOLAI:
Sleep had been impossible for me, not because I didn’t try. But because every time I closed my eyes, I saw her.
Jasmine on my desk. Jasmine beneath me. Me inside Jasmine. Jasmine looked at me like she finally understood what I’d been fighting for weeks. And worse, what I had been fighting against.
The hot water of the shower beat down against my shoulders, steam filling the bathroom until the mirrors fogged completely.
It didn’t help. Nothing helped. My hands braced against the wall as I lowered my head, exhaling slowly.
I had been shot before, stabbed, nearly strangled in a bar in Prague. None of those things had ever left my mind this disorganised.
But Jasmine? She had unraveled something in me I’d spent years building control over. Her voice echoed in my head.
“Don’t you dare stop.”
I shut my eyes. Christ!
I dragged a hand down my face and turned the water off. This was unacceptable. A Don could not think like this, not about anyone.
I dressed quickly and headed downstairs for breakfast. When I entered the dining hall, she was already there, at the far head of the dining table, studying her coffee.
Her fingers traced the rim of the cup of her coffee like she had suddenly developed a deep fascination with porcelain.
She noticed me eventually when her head lifted. And for the first time since I had met her, Jasmine looked shy. It was… unexpected.
“Morning,” she said quietly.
I cleared my throat.
“Good morning.”
The silence that followed was almost painful. Servants moved around us, placing breakfast plates that neither of us touched.
Jasmine reached for a piece of fruit. Then she put it back down, picked up her coffee, and set it down again.
I watched this for a moment before finally speaking.
“You should eat.”
“I will.”
But she didn’t. And yet another silence stretched between us.
Then she said, almost awkwardly,
“Did you… sleep?”
I nearly laughed.
“No.”
She nodded.
“Same.”
We both looked anywhere except each other.
I adjusted the cuff of my shirt. Then I forced the conversation somewhere safer.
“You can move around the estate as you please.”
Her eyes lifted immediately.
“The guards?”
“I called them off.”
Her brows lifted slightly.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
A small pause followed. Then she nodded.
“Thank you.”
For reasons I didn’t care to examine how sincere her appreciation was, it just settled something restless in my chest.
Seconds later, the door to the dining hall opened, and Matthew walked in. He took one look at the two of us and stopped mid-step. Instantly, his expression turned amused.
“Well,” he said slowly, looking between us, “this room feels incredibly normal.”
Jasmine coughed lightly into her coffee. I gave him a flat look, and Matthew grinned.
“What did I interrupt?”
“Breakfast,” I replied.
“Ah.”
He leaned slightly toward me.
“Looks more like a hostage negotiation.”
Jasmine laughed under her breath. Then subtly, Matthew’s expression shifted. The amusement faded.
“Don,” he said.
That tone meant one thing. I stood immediately.
“What is it?”
“We have a problem.”
Jasmine looked up immediately.
“Is everything okay?”
I looked at her for a brief moment before answering.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Matthew was already turning toward the door. So I followed him.
He led us to the warehouse. One of my men opened the metal door as we entered. Inside, two guards were tying Vittorio to a chair.
Matthew crossed his arms.
“He tried to kill himself this morning.”
I stopped walking.
“What?”
One of the men tying the rope spoke up.
“He managed to swallow a shard of glass from the bottle you broke the other day.”
Matthew nodded.
“We were able to get it out before it cut too deep.”
Another guard added quietly,
“Looks like he’d rather die than be tortured into confessing.”
Vittorio lifted his head weakly. Blood was crusted along his lip.
“You people are insane,” he muttered.
I walked toward him slowly.
“You came to my city,” I said calmly.
“You attacked my people.”
“I didn’t attack anyone.”
I slammed my fist into his jaw before he finished the sentence, and the crack echoed through the warehouse. He fell sideways with the chair before the ropes held him upright again.
I hit him again, and again, each punch landed harder than the last. My knuckles split and blood smeared across his cheek.
Matthew grabbed my arm.
“That’s enough.”
I shoved his hand away and leaned down toward Vittorio.
“Tell me about Soldato.”
His swollen eye blinked slowly.
“I told you before, Don. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My jaw tightened.
“He just so happened to arrive the night Jasmine was taken. You know something!”
“I swear to God I don’t know shit.”
The warehouse went silent. Then I straightened slowly.
“Motivation,” I said calmly.
Matthew nodded.
“I was thinking the same thing. Vittorio has a baby mama. Veronica.”
There was no reaction from him, not even a blink. I noticed immediately.
“He doesn’t care about Veronica,” I said.
Matthew glanced at me.
“Then what?”
I crouched in front of Vittorio, and smiled slightly.
“You have a daughter.”
There it was. Vittorio flinched.
I tilted my head. “What’s her name?”
“Don’t.” His voice cracked.
“What’s her name, Vittorio?”
“Don’t bring her into this.”
“Tell me the name.”
He shook his head violently.
“Please.”
I leaned closer.
“Tell me about Soldato.”
“I don’t know!”
“Who came to New York?”
“I don’t know!”
“Who took Jasmine?”
“I don’t know!”
My patience snapped. I grabbed his collar and slammed him back into the chair.
“You have three days.”
His breathing went ragged.
I lifted three fingers slowly between us.
“Three days to give me the name of the Soldato who came to my city.”
His eyes were filled with panic.
“And if you don’t—”
My voice dropped to a quiet whisper.
“Your daughter dies.”
The warehouse fell completely silent. Vittorio began to beg. But I had already turned away.