Chapter 15 Chapter Fifteen
Elena’s POV
“Hey baby... Are you sleeping?” his voice came through the moment I picked up, gentle and warm in that familiar way that used to make my heart flutter.
But… it didn’t flutter tonight.
Instead, I felt a strange urge, sharp, sudden to lie. To say yes, I’m asleep, or I’m tired, or I can’t talk. Anything to keep a distance. Anything to stop the guilt fluttering in my chest, the guilt of being here, in his family’s mansion, after a day tangled in the chaos of his world… and someone else’s.
The lie perched on my tongue.
“Yes, I’m..." Hesitation seized me. I swallowed it. “No,” I finally said. “I just went downstairs to get juice. Feeling a bit hungry.” The lie slipped out smoothly. Maybe too smoothly. Avoid telling him about being with Nikolai a few seconds ago
Rafael exhaled softly, like he needed the reassurance. “Alright. Good.” He paused, then asked, “Is Nikolai there?”
My pulse hitched. Memories of today, those shattered poles at the Cafe, Nikolai's hand on my waist, the bleeding, Nikolai's blood, that part of me, almost locking my lips on him, a few seconds ago, flickered between my eyes. But Rafael didn’t know any of that. He wasn’t supposed to.
“No,” I said quickly. “After he dropped me off, I… I haven’t seen him again.” Another lie. My chest tightened. “It’s been quiet here.”
Rafael hummed, relieved. “Okay. I’m sorry, Elena. Really. Your first tour of the city should have been with me. Not with my brother. I was planning it myself, you know?”
Guilt pricked me; it's always like that. One word from Rafael, and I tend to forget every other bad thing he does to me. “It’s fine. Really. Nikolai didn’t show me much, so you’re not missing anything.”
Except concerned. Fear. Blood.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Rafael promised. “Tomorrow. I’ll give you the proper tour you deserve. Where would you like to go? Beach; cinema; the yacht tour...”
I felt a small flutter then nostalgic, gentle. That part of me that used to cling to Rafael’s kindness stirred awake. “Are you coming home tonight?”
There was a pause. Longer than necessary. I should know the answer; he wasn't coming, but I was still hoping that he would.
“Not tonight,” he said quietly. “I’m still handling something here. But I’ll be there early morning to take you out. I promise.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
"Fine, tomorrow then..." He said
"I love..." But my words didn't finish before the sound click of an ended call. I sighed but I was still excited.
Even when the call ended, without him letting me finish, I still found myself… smiling. Maybe not with the same spark I once felt for him, but the idea of a quiet morning in the city, an actual date, with the man who is supposed to be my fiancé, not his brother, made warmth seep into my chest.
I dialed Shannon’s number immediately.
She picked up on the second ring. “Elena? Oh God… Elena. I’m so sorry I couldn’t cover for you. Uncle Valkor called me and I panicked. I swear I tried but you know your Dad, he has a way of..."
“Shannon,” I laughed, sinking into the edge of the bed. “I’m not mad. It’s not your fault. Honestly.”
“I feel like a terrible friend,” she whined.
“You’re not,” I said. “It was bound to happen.”
“So…” Shannon dragged the word. “Are you alone? Or is the hot brother there?”
I snorted. “No. I’m alone. He left hours ago.”
“Wait... left? That fast?” Shannon gasped. “Girl, please don’t tell me he saw you eat like a caveman again.”
I rolled my eyes, I don't think I have had much of an appetite. “No silly. And what do you care, if he saw me eating like a caveman, after all, he is not my boyfriend, and that is not why I call you naughty." Shannon laughed softly, but I sighed. " He... uh... he got hurt.”
Silence. Then:
“Oh my God! Why do hot men like dangerous business? Why can’t one of them be a florist or something? Imagine Nikolai arranging roses instead of dodging bullets.”
I burst into laughter, the tension of the night breaking. “Please. He would scare the flowers into blooming.”
Shannon wheezed. “You’re not wrong. Those kinds of men wouldn't fit. Imagine walking into a flower shop with someone as hot and scary as Nikolai as a florist's assistant; you would object to his hilarious prices. But seriously, is he okay?”
“He is… alive,” I said. “Matteo... his assistant got him out.”
“Ah yes,” Shannon said dreamily. “The assistant. The very hot assistant with the ‘I know all your secrets’ eyes.”
I blinked. “You know him?”
“Oh, he knows me,” she sing-sang. “We met at one of the galas, and he gave me that look once. You know, the ‘I could ruin your life but I’ll do it sexily’ look.”
I snorted so hard my eyes watered, picturing how Shannon would be moving her body and her eyes. “Oh my God, Shannon.”
“What?” she defended. “He did!”
I wiped my eyes, still giggling. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you,” she said, “sound suspiciously happy for someone hiding in a mafia mansion.”
“I’m not hiding,” I said.
“Uh-huh. Sure. So tell me…” She paused dramatically. “Did the hot assistant confess his undying love for me?”
“Yes,” I deadpanned. “Right after bullets stopped flying. Very romantic moment.”
“See? I knew it,” she whispered. “He loves me.”
“You need help,” I said, laughing again.
She laughed too, but then her tone shifted into the soft, nosy version she used when she wanted the truth. “Alright, serious question.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“Shannon, no.”
“Elena.”
Her voice sharpened like a blade. I huff knowing I am not escaping it.
“Between Nikolai and Rafael, who is more responsible? And don’t say ‘both,’ because you’re terrible at lying to me.”
I hesitated. Then sighed.
“Nikolai,” I admitted. “He is… scary, yes. Dangerous. But he is always in control. Always proactive. Always caring. Always thinking ahead. He doesn’t pretend to be something he is not.”
“And Rafael?”
“Rafael has responsibility,” I said quietly. “He cares. He really does. But… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like he wants everything to be perfect without actually making sure it is.”
“That,” Shannon said, “sounds like you’re leaning toward Nikolai.”
My stomach twisted. “No. I’m not... Shannon, stop.”
“Do you love him?” she asked bluntly.
"Of course, I love him; if I didn't love him, why would I let father announce our engagement?"
"Not Rafael, I am talking about Nikolai..."
The question punched the air from my lungs. I stared at the dark window, replaying the night, how I had kissed him, how his lips had tasted, then his injury, how he had sat there and let me care for his wounds, even when he was in pain he didn't flinch, then the hurt in his eyes when I took Rafael's call.
Did I love him?
No.
Of course not.
But the problem was… the answer didn’t come out instantly.
“Elena,” Shannon pressed softly, “do you?” I swallowed, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I don’t know.”
That wasn't an answer, it was supposed to be no but I couldn't say no.
The truth hung heavy in the room, echoing louder than the Shattered glass at the Cafe hours ago.
And part of me wondered…
If that uncertainty was more dangerous than anything the mafia could ever throw at me.
Was I supposed to love Nikolai