Chapter 38 Fractures Beneath the Surface

Chapter 38 Fractures Beneath the Surface

Nikolai:

The noise of the event faded into the background. But it wasn’t because it was quiet, far from it. The room was alive with conversation, laughter, glasses clinking, music… but none of it reached me quite yet.

I stood close to the edge of the room, a glass of whiskey in my hand, untouched. All I could hear… was my own mind.

Elena Vorn. Jasmine. The woman in my bed, the woman I had sworn to destroy.

My jaw tightened as the truth replayed itself over and over again, refusing to settle into something I could control.

I have been hunting this woman ever since I heard a Vorn was in New York. I had planned her end.

And now… I couldn’t even look at her without wanting to pull her closer.

“Don.”

Matthew’s voice cut through the noise as he stepped beside me.

“You’ve been staring at that glass for ten minutes.”

I didn’t look at him.

“I’m thinking.”

“That’s never good for anyone involved,” he muttered.

I exhaled slowly. Matthew studied me for a moment, his tone shifting.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

There was a pause, then a quiet scoff.

“Right,” he said. “And I’m a priest.”

I finally turned my head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes.

“Drop it.”

Matthew held my gaze for a second longer than most men would dare. Then he nodded once.

“Fine.”

But he didn’t move away.

“You look like you’re about to kill someone,” he added casually.

I took a slow sip of my drink.

“I just might.”

Matthew smirked faintly.

“Should I be concerned?”

“Not yet.”

That was enough to silence him for a moment. Then,

“Well,” he said, glancing across the room, “you might want to focus.”

I followed his line of sight. And there she was.

Francesca Fletcher, moving through the crowd like she owned it. Like she always did. Her eyes found mine almost immediately. Of course they did.

A slow smile curved her lips as she made her way toward me. Matthew sighed under his breath.

“I’ll leave you to… whatever this is.”

He stepped away just as Francesca reached me.

“Nikolai,” she said smoothly.

“Francesca.”

Her gaze lingered on my face, searching.

“You look troubled.”

“I’m not.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“You’ve never been a good liar with me.”

That irritated me more than it should have.

“I’m not lying.”

She stepped closer… too close.

“You are,” she said softly. “But I won’t press.”

Of course she wouldn’t. She preferred to circle, to wait. To make me unravel on my own.

Her fingers then brushed lightly against my sleeve.

“You’re here but your mind’s not. You look… distant,” she continued. “Even for you.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t trust myself to. Because for the first time in a long time… I wasn’t entirely in control. And she could see it. That was the dangerous part.

Francesca’s eyes darkened slightly, sensing the shift.

“Is it her?” she asked quietly.

I stilled, and she smiled faintly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

My grip tightened around the glass.

“Careful, Francesca.”

“Or what?” she challenged softly.

She stepped even closer, lowering her voice.

“You’ll pretend you don’t feel anything again?”

Her hand slid up my arm.

“I know you, Nikolai.”

That was the problem. She truly did. She knew where to press, where to push, where I was weakest.

And right now… I was weak as hell, not  not because of her. But because of Jasmine, because of Elena, because of everything colliding inside me.

Francesca leaned in slightly, her lips brushing dangerously close to mine.

“Tell me,” she murmured, “does she make you forget who you are? Let me take your mind off whatever’s eating you.”

I should have shoved her away, but for a split second, I let myself fall into it, into the familiarity, into our past. My hand came up, gripping her waist, pulling her closer.

Her breath hitched as victory flickered in her eyes. But then, Elena’s face flashed in my mind, her voice, her touch. The way she looked at me like I was something more than what I was, something I didn’t deserve.

Then my grip shifted. From her waist, to her neck.

I pushed her back. It wasn’t hard but it was hard enough to break whatever this was.

Francesca’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Then I leaned in just enough for only her to hear.

“Don’t mistake my hesitation for weakness.”

Her lips parted.

But before she could respond, a voice called out across the room.

“Nikolai Morreti.”

I released her completely as a man near the stage gestured for me.

“It’s time for your speech.”

Perfect timing.

I straightened my jacket without another glance at Francesca.

“Enjoy the evening,” I said coldly.

Then I walked away, heading for the stage. The room quieted as I stepped on there. All eyes were on me. Waiting, expecting.

This part was easy. It always was. It was how I waged my control and power.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I began, my voice steady despite the chaos inside of me. "Tonight, we celebrate not just alliances, but the strength that binds us. In a world of shadows, loyalty is our light. To the future, of power, of family, of unbreakable bonds." It was bullshit, polished and empty, but they ate it up, applauding as I stepped down. Loyalty? What a joke. Mine was tearing me apart.

I stepped down from the stage, already turning away from the crowd when a fist slammed hard into my jaw.

The impact barely moved me. But it got my attention. The man stood in front of me, breathing hard.

I already knew who it was.

Dante Rafe

“Careful,” I said calmly, adjusting my cuff.

“Public scenes shouldn’t be your style.”

“You killed him,” Dante hissed. His voice was low, controlled, but filled with fury.

“Vittorio.”

I met his gaze, unfazed.

“He was a snake.”

Dante stepped closer, his jaw tight.

“He was innocent. If you wanted to hurt someone, it should have been me.”

I didn’t say anything. The tension between us snapped tight. One wrong move, and this room would turn into a war zone.

“You don’t get to touch her,” Dante said, his voice deadly now.

There it was. Her. Elena, Jasmine.

I tilted my head slightly.

“You’re in the wrong city to make demands.”

His fists clenched.

“You think I won’t—”

“Do it,” I cut in quietly.

“Give me a reason too.”

Heavy and dangerous silence fell between us, then I leaned in just slightly.

“Go back to Italy,” I said, my voice calm, final. “Before it’s too late.”

Dante held my gaze for a long moment, rage burning behind it. But he didn’t move, nor strike again, nor speak. Because he understood.

This wasn’t his territory. And if he pushed, he wouldn’t walk out of here alive.

And just like that, I stepped past him without another word.