Chapter 35 Nikolai
I stood outside the bathroom door, my hand raised to knock, then dropped it.
The sounds coming from inside made my chest ache in ways I didn't know were possible.
She was crying so hard, I could hear her sobs through thevwood. Each one felt like a knife sliding between my ribs.
My cheek burned where she'd slapped me. The split on my lip throbbed, blood still warm on my tongue.
I deserved so much worse than a slap and some tears.
"Marlena," I said quietly, my hand on the door. "Open up."
She said nothing, just kept sobbing.
"Please."
The crying continued, desperate and raw.
I pressed my forehead against the wood, eyes closed.
What could I say? What words would make this better?
The truth would destroy her. The lies already had.
There was no winning here. No move that didn't end in pain.
I stepped back from the door finally, my jaw tight.
She needed space and time, things I couldn't give her but would have to anyway.
I walked to the balcony, the Monaco morning bright and beautiful and completely at odds with everything inside this suite.
My hands shook as I pulled out my cigarettes.
I'd quit ten years ago. I stopped the day I signed my first major business deal and decided that Nikolai Volkov didn't have weaknesses like addiction.
But the pack had been in my jacket pocket for three days now since the day I met Pavel and realised that everything was spiraling out of controlling.
I lit one with my father's old lighter, the one thing I'd kept from his belongings.
The smoke burned going down, harsh and bitter.
I coughed, my lungs protesting after a decade of clean air but I took another drag anyway.
The nicotine hit my bloodstream, familiar and wrong at the same time.
I leaned against the railing, looking out at the Mediterranean stretching endlessly blue.
Tomorrow, this could all be over.
I could find Viktor, confront him and end the fifteen years of planning and hunting and obsession.
I could pull the trigger and watch him bleed out.
And finally , I'd get the revenge that had consumed half my life.
The thought should have brought satisfaction.
I took another drag, the smoke curling up into the clear sky.
My hand tightened on the cigarette until it bent.
Behind me, I heard the bathroom door unlock.
I didn't turn around or move.
Marlena's footsteps crossed the suite, then stopped.
"What are you doing?" Her voice was rough from crying, but steady.
"Smoking."
"Since when do you smoke?"
"Since today."
Silence for a moment. Then she said, "It's disgusting."
"I know."
More silence followed.
I could feel her watching me and deciding whether to say something or retreat back to the safety of locked doors.
"Is that blood on your shirt?" she asked finally.
I looked down. The blood from my split lip had dripped onto my collar.
"Yes."
"Good." She said, coldly.
I almost smiled.
Instead, I took a final drag and flicked the cigarette over the balcony railing.
It fell in a slow arc, disappearing into the morning air.
"Littering in Monaco," Marlena said. "They probably fine you a thousand euros for that."
"Add it to my list of crimes."
She didn't laugh or even respond at all.
When I finally turned around, she stood in the middle of the suite, arms wrapped around herself.
Her eyes were red and swollen. Her hair was a mess. She looked small and broken and nothing like the sharp, clever woman who'd challenged me at every turn.
I'd done this to her.
"I'm sorry," I said.
The words felt inadequate and pathetic but they were all I had.
"For what?" she asked. "The lies? The manipulation? Blackmailing me into marriage? Using my dying brother as leverage? Which specific crime are you apologizing for, Nikolai?"
"All of it."
She laughed, but it came out broken. "You don't mean that."
"I do."
"No, you don't." She stepped closer, her green eyes fierce despite the tears. "If you were really sorry, you'd tell me the truth. All of it. No more 'you don't understand yet' or 'it's complicated.' Just the truth."
My jaw clenched.
She waited, watching me with those eyes that saw too much.
"That's what I thought," she said finally when I stayed silent. "Your apologies don't mean shit if you're still lying."
She walked past me toward the bedroom.
"We have brunch in four hours," I said to her back. "With the Beaumonts. Art collectors. They knew Viktor in the old days."
She stopped in the doorway.
"I'll be ready." Her voice was flat, emotionless. "Marie Laurent will smile and laugh and play the perfect wife. Don't worry, Nikolai. I know how to perform."
The door closed behind her.
I stood on the balcony for another ten minutes, breathing in the sea air, trying to clear the smoke from my lungs.
My phone buzzed as a text from Marcus came in.
Confirmed: Viktor's network knows you're in Monaco. Be careful.
I deleted the message and pocketed my phone.
I'd stopped being careful the moment I married Marlena, let her become more than bait and started caring whether she lived or died.
I pulled out another cigarette, then stopped myself.
One was weakness. Two was a habit I couldn't afford.
I crushed the pack in my fist and threw it over the railing.
More littering. More fines I'd never pay.
The sun climbed higher, warming the balcony.
Below, Monaco woke up – yachts in the harbor, cars on the winding roads, people starting their wealthy, uncomplicated lives.
None of them knew a war was about to start in their pristine city.
None of them cared.
I went back inside finally. The suite felt empty despite Marlena being just one room away.
The bedroom door was still closed. I could hear the shower running.
She was washing away the tears and putting herself back together, preparing for the performance.
Marie Laurent would emerge in a few hours, perfect and polished.
Marlena Rousseau would stay hidden behind the mask and I would pretend I didn't know the difference.
I sat on the bed, my back against the headboard, and waited.