Chapter 33 Nikolai
The moment Marlena disappeared into the bedroom, I moved.
I left the suite quietly, taking the stairs down to the second floor.
The business center was still empty at this hour, the computers humming softly in the fluorescent light.
I sat at the same terminal Marlena had used – the one in the corner, farthest from the door.
She thought she'd been clever, clearing the browser history, shutting down properly.
But hotel computers logged everything. Every keystroke, every search, every website visited.
It took me less than two minutes to access the logs.
My security clearance with the hotel – arranged weeks ago under a shell company – gave me administrative access to their entire network.
I pulled up the activity from terminal three.
5:04 AM: User login
5:06 AM: Google search - "Laurent Moreau Monaco"
5:08 AM: Gallery website accessed
5:12 AM: Multiple image files viewed
5:15 AM: User logout
My chest tightened as I clicked through the cached pages.
The auction photos loaded slowly. It showed wealthy collectors, champagne and art.
And there, in the background: Viktor.
The face he'd worn three years ago, before his most recent surgery.
Marlena had found him.
My hands clenched into fists on the desk.
She'd gone looking for information I'd spent five years compiling and she'd found it in twenty minutes because cause she was too fucking smart.
I scrolled down, finding the event details still cached in the browser's memory.
Villa Rêverie. 47 Chemin de la Turbie.
The address was right there, plain as day.
Shit.
She knew where Viktor lived, which meant she had a plan.
She was going to try something stupid, that would get her killed.
Panic hit me like a physical blow.
I pulled out my phone with shaking fingers, scrolling through my contacts to a number I rarely called.
It rang once. Twice.
"Da?" The voice was quiet, cautious, unmistakably familiar despite the years.
"Katya." My voice came out rougher than I intended. "I need information."
Silence for a moment, then: "You're in Monaco."
It wasn't a question.
"How did you know?" I asked.
"Because Viktor knows too." Her Russian accent was thicker than mine, preserved from years of staying hidden. "He's been expecting you, Kolya. He's been waiting."
My blood turned to ice.
"What do you mean, expecting me?"
"Pavel wasn't just bait. He was a message." Katya's voice dropped lower. "Viktor wanted you to come here. To bring her."
"Marlena."
"His daughter, yes." I heard movement on her end, like she was pacing. "He wants her back, Nikolai. Badly. He's been obsessed with her for years, watching her from a distance. Now that you've married her, taken her away from New York..." She trailed off.
"What?" I demanded. "Say it."
"He sees it as theft. You stole his property." The words were bitter, disgusted. "He's been planning something. I don't know what yet, but my sources say he's mobilizing his network. Old associates. People who owe him favors."
My hand gripped the phone so hard I thought it might crack.
"When?"
"Soon. Days, maybe. He knows you're here, he knows where you're staying. The Hermitage, yes?"
I didn't answer, which was answer enough.
"Kolya." Her voice softened slightly. "Be careful. Viktor isn't the man he was fifteen years ago. He's had time to plan, to prepare and he has resources we didn't account for."
"I can handle Viktor."
"Can you?" She paused. "What about her? Can you keep Marlena safe while also using her as bait? Because you can't do both, brother. Eventually you'll have to choose."
The words hit too close to truths I'd been avoiding.
"Stay hidden," I said instead of answering. "No matter what happens, don't come out. Don't make contact. If Viktor knows you're alive –"
"I know." Her voice was resigned. "I've been dead for fifteen years. I can stay dead a while longer."
"Katya –"
"Go take care of your wife, Nikolai. Before Viktor does it for you."
The line went dead.
I sat there in the empty business center, staring at the cached photos of Viktor on the screen.
He knew we were here.
He wanted Marlena back and she'd just found his address.
The pieces clicked together in my head, forming a picture I didn't like.
If Marlena went to that villa alone, thinking she could confront Viktor herself, she'd be walking into a trap.
He'd take her and use her and maybe kill her just to hurt me.
The thought made something twist painfully in my chest.
I couldn't let that happen.
Which meant I needed to keep her close. Closer than ever.
Even if she hated me for it.
I cleared the browser history again, more thoroughly this time, and left the business center.
My mind raced as I took the stairs back up, running through scenarios, contingencies, ways to protect Marlena without telling her why.
The suite door opened silently.
Marlena stood by the window in the main room, wrapped in a hotel robe, her hair still damp from a shower.
She looked beautiful in the morning light.
The possessiveness that surged through me was irrational and dangerous but I didn't fight it.
I crossed the room before she could speak.
My hand cupped the back of her neck, pulling her to me.
Her eyes widened, surprised, maybe alarmed.
I didn't give her time to protest.
My mouth crashed onto hers, desperate and claiming.
For a second, she was rigid and unresponsive in my arms.
Then she kissed back but there was anger in it. Fury barely contained beneath the surface.
Her hands fisted in my shirt, nails digging in through the fabric.
She kissed me like she wanted to hurt me.
I kissed her like I was trying to keep her alive.
My heart raced, pounding so hard I thought she must feel it through our pressed-together bodies.
This was wrong. It was complicated.
Worse, it was everything I'd told myself not to let happen.
But Viktor wanted her.
And I'd be damned if I let him have her.
I pulled
away finally, breathing hard.
My hands stayed on her face, tilting it up so she couldn't look away.
Her green eyes blazed with emotions I couldn't name.