Chapter 30 Chapter Thirty
Elena's POV
“Why do they call you Draco?” his gaze shifted toward the city, expression unreadable. I stared at him, not pulling my gaze from his. "C'mon, don't keep me silent," I pulled the cigarette from his lips.
"Hey give it back." He protested but didn't try to grab it from me. I walked slowly to the small table in the middle of the rooftop and pressed the Ash to the ashtray.
"Don't you know smoking is bad for your health?"
"No, I don't." He said softly.
"Now, I'm telling you, smokers are liable to die Young." He tittered carefree. "I'm not joking, smoking is bad."
"I don't think it's bad for me, I've been smoking since I turned fourteen, and I'm still very healthy, and alive." He said brushing it off.
"So you think it's not bad for you?" I glared at him, he tittered and ran his hand on his face before he pushed his fingers into his hair.
"I know so but I think something else is bad for me." My brows furrowed staring at him, our gaze met for a second before he tilted his head away from me and muttered, "I guess it's you, that’s bad for me, not the cigarette," My brows furrowed not understanding a single thing he said
"What did you say?" I asked, he didn’t reply, and he shook his head.
"I think we should go back inside, it's getting late." He said suddenly.
"C'mon, just a few more minutes and we will go inside, the sky is still bright."
"But it's dangerous to be out here, this late, especially since it's the festive season."
"But you could protect me."
"Oh Lena!" He exhaled softly.
"Fine, just answer my question and I will go to bed." He looks at me, really looks
"Elena, are you always this curious?" I smirked.
"I thought I had answered that the very first day, you picked me up at the airport." His brows furrow.
"Did you?" I nodded.
"Yes, I did, now answer the question." He giggles when I sound bossy
"You're bossy and pushy."
"Of course, that's the reason, I'm a princess. Now go on." He giggles, I couldn't remember the number of times, he laughed freely like an ordinary man in the streets of Italy. I love this part of him. This part, where he wasn't the dangerous man that everyone thinks, I should stay away from.
"It's just a nickname" he said shortly. This wasn't the answer I wanted, I wanted a deeper meaning. I narrowed my gaze, and he tilted his head. "You don't believe me?"
"Of course, I don't," I said looking at him.
"Oh Elena, didn't Don Moretti tell you that something is just left unsaid than said?" I shake my head.
"Don Moretti, let me do whatever I want, and he always gives an answer to every question I ask without blinking, and I expect you to do the same."
"So you got the old man wrapped in your fingers?" I smirked.
"He is my dad, so I should have him wrapped around my fingers, isn't it supposed to be so?" He nodded and then smirked. "What's that for?"
"Just thinking how the man, who could burn a city down and walk away like he did nothing, could be an angel in the eyes of one little girl"
"Hey! I'm not a little girl, I'm twenty-one." I said defensively, and he giggled. At first, his laughter seemed forced, but as the evening unfolded, I could literally see that the smile was getting used to his face and it appeared genuine.
"Oh, so the young adults think she is grown."
"Stop that," I smack his shoulders playfully.
"Hands up, Miss young adult."
"Hey," I protest, "an adult is an adult, there is nothing like a young adult." I glared at him.
"Miss adult, let's go to bed."
"Tell me first, the reason for the nickname." He huffs.
"Oh Elena, you're trouble." He muttered under his breath and giggled. Then he asked, "Do you know what Draco means?"
"Dragon?"
"No, it means devil. Have you heard of the legend Dracula?" My brows furrow.
"Like the son of Vlad II Dracul"
"Yeah! The legends claimed that Dracula made a pact with the devil to gain the strength to defend his land. In truth, his name came from his father, Dracul... The dragon. Only after his reign did people begin to say the dragon was a devil, and so the king was remembered as the devil's son."
I was confused. I asked about him not about a legend. He smirked, sensing my confusion. "Oh Elena," he began, his voice low, almost a rumble as he leaned back on the pillar, eyes dark and distant, like he was fighting himself, "the Alessandra family, we didn't just take the city, we owned it. Every dock, every casino, every street corner whispered our name. Our soldiers obeyed without question. Our rivals? They feared us, and the law. Even they knew when to look the other way. Money flowed like blood, and betrayal. Betrayal meant vanishing without a trace. "
He paused, letting the words hang heavy on the rooftop. "At the top sat Dracula, calculating, patient, untouched. A king not of a kingdom, but of an empire built on fear, loyalty, and the cold precision of power." His eyes met mine, sharp and unyielding. "And that Dracula..." He studied my face. "That's me."
I blinked, and he continued, voice tightening. "But it wasn't always like that. Before the Alessandra family earned that title, there was war. My father, don Alessandro Rossetti Romano. He sent me on a mission against rival families, to claim the docks. The one prize that would make our family number one. I was supposed to lead a hundred men, maybe more. But he sent me alone. Not even with my brother. Just me."
A shadow passed over his face. "I don't know how I survived," he admitted quietly, almost to himself. "I was just seventeen. By the time it was over, I had killed..." He paused his lips, "too many to count. And from that day forward, they didn't call me a man. That is how they called me Draco." He sighed staring at the street ahead, "You see, I'm not a good man"
I shook my head slowly, still trying to reconcile the man standing in front of me with the monster he had just described. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Nikolai,” I said quietly. “You’ve been… kind to me. You’ve protected me. You’ve been nice since the moment you picked me from the airport, and you didn't take advantage of me, even when I stood nude in front of you. That's the definition of a good man.”
The sound that left him wasn’t warm. It was a short, humorless laugh. He turned his face away, jaw tightening. “You know nothing about me, Elena,” he said. “If you had seen me then, if you had watched me tear men apart with my own hands, you would never use the word nice in a sentence that has my name in it.”
I stepped closer before I could overthink it. “If you did those things to protect yourself,” I said softly, “then I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
His eyes snapped back to mine, dark and searching, as if he were trying to find the lie hidden in my words. But there was none. I meant it. Survival didn’t make someone evil. It made them human. Even my dad kills to stay alive.
That was when my gaze dropped. His shoulders were covered only by a thin T-shirt, the fabric clinging to muscle but there were no bandages. My stomach tightened. “Nikolai,” I asked, pointing slightly, “what about your injury?”
He glanced down as if it were nothing. “It’s fine now,” he said dismissively.
“Fine?” I echoed, unconvinced. “You were bleeding just last night, and now.”
He shrugged. “I heal fast.”
That answer didn’t comfort me, but before I could press further, he straightened. “We should go inside. It’s getting cold.”
I nodded, turning with him only for my foot to slip against the stone beneath us. A gasp tore from my throat as I lost my balance.
I didn’t hit the ground.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against a solid chest. Nikolai caught me effortlessly, as if my weight meant nothing at all. My hands instinctively grabbed his shirt, my heart hammering wildly as I realized how close we were.
Too close.
Slowly, I lifted my head. His face was inches from mine. His flawless face was adorable, the intensity in his eyes softening into something dangerously unreadable. His grip tightened just slightly, steadying me but it felt like so much more.
My breath hitched. His gaze flicked to my lips.
I didn’t pull away.
Neither did he.
The world seemed to narrow to the space between us, to the warmth of his hand at my waist, to the quiet pull drawing us closer. My lips parted without permission, my pulse roaring in my ears.