Chapter 28 THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US
JASMINE:
Ana dabbed antiseptic gently along the edge of my bruised cheek. I hissed under my breath.
“Sorry,” she murmured softly.
“It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. None of it was. The black eye Dante had given me had darkened overnight, blooming across my cheekbone like I had spilled ink there. The swelling at my temple from the first blow still throbbed if I moved too quickly.
Ana tilted my chin slightly, examining the cut above my brow.
“You’re lucky,” she said quietly. “Nothing deeper.”
As she dabbed on, my mind drifted back to the moment I returned. The gates opening, the guards rushing forward when they saw me sway, their strong arms catching me before my knees gave out.
I remembered the blur of the mansion lights above me as they carried me inside. Voices, movements, urgency.
And then… him. Nikolai standing at the end of the hallway, quiet and watching.
I had lifted my head weakly, trying to focus on his face. For one second, I thought I saw something there. Relief, maybe anger, maybe something deeper.
But before I could be certain, before I could even speak his name, he turned. He walked away. That was the last thing I saw before I passed out.
Back in the present, Ana pressed gauze gently against my cheek.
“You should rest,” she said.
I hummed in response. She hesitated before speaking again.
“You’ve been very quiet since you came back.”
I didn’t answer. Ana wasn’t fooled.
“He was restless,” she continued carefully.
My eyes lifted to hers.
“The Don.”
My fingers curled slightly in my lap.
“He barely slept,” she added. “He was angry. The entire house could feel it.”
If he was angry, then why… Why had he looked at me like I was nothing? Why had he walked away?
“I thought…” Ana hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I thought he would come see you by now.”
“So did I,” I admitted before I could stop myself.
Ana finished cleaning the last cut and taped a small bandage over it.
“You should sleep,” she said softly.
This time, I didn’t argue. I went back to bed, as she closed the door softly behind her.
The next morning, I forced myself out of bed. My body still felt weak, but staying in that room felt worse.
The mansion was quiet as I moved down the staircase. Halfway down, I stopped.
Nikolai. He stood near the dining room entrance, speaking with Matthew. Matthew noticed me first.
“Morning,” he said casually, his eyes flicking briefly to the bruises on my face.
“Morning,” I replied.
Nikolai didn’t look at me. Not even once. He finished whatever he was saying to his guy and walked past me without even glancing in my direction. Like I wasn’t there. The dismissal was so complete it stunned me.
Matthew watched him go, then looked back at me with something that might have been sympathy. But he didn’t say anything, and neither did I.
The entire day passed the same way. Nikolai moved through the house, met with people, spoke with staff, discussed things with Matthew and some of his men. But never once did he acknowledge me.
He didn’t say a word, he didn’t steal a glance, nothing.
By the time night fell, the silence had started to crawl under my skin. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come. Dante’s voice echoed in my mind.
“Not from what’s coming.”
But even that warning felt distant compared to the thing gnawing at me now.
Nikolai. The way he ignored me, the deliberate distance, his coldness. It disturbed me more than I wanted to admit.
Finally, I had enough. I threw the blanket aside and stood.
If he was going to pretend I didn’t exist, he was going to stop being a coward about it and do it to my face.
I slipped out of my room in the dead of night, and noticed the light under the study door was still on. Hopefully, he’d still be in there.
I knocked and he didn’t answer. I knocked again, still nothing.
“I know you’re in there,” I said.
No response..
I tightened my jaw as I knocked again, louder. A beat passed, then his voice came through the door, calm and cold.
“Go to your room, Jasmine.”
That was it. That was the final straw. I opened the door without permission.
Nikolai sat behind his desk, with his sleeves rolled, and a glass of whiskey in his hand.
His eyes lifted to mine slowly. Annoyance was written all over his face.
“You’re going to wake the house,” he said.
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.
“Then answer my question.”
His gaze sharpened. “What question?”
“Why are you avoiding me?”
We were silent for a minute before he spoke.
“I’m not avoiding you,”
“Really?” I scoffed. “Because you’ve managed to spend an entire day pretending I don’t exist.”
“You’re here. You’re alive. That’s what matters.”
“That’s it?” I asked.
“What else is there?”
I could feel anger flaring in my chest.
“You didn’t even ask what happened.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“You returned.”
“Yes.”
“And you expect applause?”
“That’s not what I—”
“You left this estate,” he cut in.
“I was taken.”
“Were you?”
The accusation stung.
“You think I ran away?”
“I don’t know what to think.” He was dismissed.
Then he stood, slowly. His movement alone shifted the air in the room.
“I could have run,” I said. “I could have disappeared.”
“So why didn’t you?” He flared. “You’ve been trying to escape since you got here, why didn’t you when you had the perfect chance to?”
I didn’t want to answer his question, because I didn’t want to admit the truth to his face. So I said something else.
“I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“You live under my roof.”
“I didn’t ask to.” I retorted. “You know what, I’ve had enough.” I declared, frustrated.
“I didn’t ask for this life. Locked up, watched, handled like property. And still I came back. I walked right back into your cage.” My voice shook with fury, not fear. “So tell me, Don, what kind of man wears a crown and does nothing when his “La Prescelta” is taken?”
His patience snapped then, and in two strides, he was in front of me… too close.
“Do you have any idea,” he said quietly, “what your disappearance turned me into that night and the days to come?”
My breath caught. The rawness in his tone stunned me.
“I called the one man I’d never spoken to for years. I turned into my father.”
He slammed his hands lightly against the desk beside us.
“I dragged men out of their homes. I broke bones. I spilled blood.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“I became someone even my own men were afraid of.”
Then his eyes burned into mine.
“For you.”
His confession hit like a shockwave.
“You don’t understand what that does to a man,” he said quietly.
The space between us had disappeared completely now.
“I was restless,” he continued. “Angry, blind.”
His voice dropped lower.
“I didn’t know if you ran. If someone took you. If you were lying in a ditch somewhere. And when you didn’t come back…”
My pulse thundered in my ears.
“I would have killed anyone responsible.”
His words weren’t dramatic. They were in fact the cold truth.
“I would still do it,” he said.
His hand lifted slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face.
“I would kill anyone for you, Jasmine.”
My breath caught again, as the intensity between us became unbearable. We were so close now I could feel his breath.
His hand lingered against my cheek.
“You don’t know what you did to me,” he murmured.
Neither of us moved. And slowly, almost without thinking, we leaned closer.
“You don’t know what you did to me as well,” I murmured.
My heart hammered as his lips brushed mine softly. As if it was barely there.
The contact lasted a fraction of a second before my mind caught up. I pulled back sharply.
But in that exact moment, his hand slid to the back of my neck, and he pulled me back….