Chapter 52 Chapter Fifty-Two
Elena's POV
After father said that, we are leaving, I thought I might never got a chance to speak to Nikolai again, because father hardly changes his mind, and with the way he was screaming, I know he is slowly doubting uncle Alessandro, Rafael didn't help matters, I might have stop my father from calling off the engagement but that doesn't mean I still love Rafael, I just don't know how to convince father because I didn't want to leave, I didn't want to go without saying goodbye to Nikolai, or maybe, I didn't want to say goodbye, so when uncle Alessandro was able to persuade father that we stay till the next day, I was happy but I still have no idea how I will look for Nikolai because I had no idea which one of the rooms he occupied.
And when we retired to bed, I shared a room with Shannon but I couldn't sleep, she told me, maybe, I want to speak with Nikolai, at first, I wanted to deny it but she said, maybe, I could think of one place I could find him, and then I remembered last nights at his place, he seemed to enjoy late night drink, then she said maybe, I should go to the kitchen and wait for him hoping that he would come, I was almost losing hope, that he would come when the door open, “What are you doing here?” Nikolai’s voice startled me so badly I nearly slipped off the kitchen counter. I had been sitting on the marble cabinet, legs dangling, pretending I wasn’t nervous. pretending I wasn't scared that if someone else had walked in on me, sitting here, at this time, I would have had an explanation for my act. The lights were dim, it would be difficult for someone to see me without switching on the bright light, yet Nikolai saw me in the dark. I hopped down quickly, smoothing my dress as if that would make me look less ridiculous. “I was waiting for you.”
His brows drew together in confusion. He looked past me, scanning the empty kitchen as if expecting someone else to step out, “For me?” he asked. I nodded, then immediately felt foolish under his steady gaze. He walked toward the fridge without another word, pulling it open, cold air spilled into the quiet room, “About what?” he asked, not looking at me.
The indifference in his tone made my throat tighten. I ran my fingers through my hair, suddenly unsure why I had thought this was a good idea, Nikolai is someone you can't read, one minute he is acting like he cares, not just cares, but someone whom felt something stronger for someone and the next minute he is acting like a stranger, he is acting like he doesn't care, “I’m leaving tomorrow,” I said softly. “I..." I stutter, biting my lower lip, "I doubt we will see each other before I go.”
He grabbed a bottle of water and closed the fridge door. “So?” he said.
So? I swallowed, almost wanting to abort the thought, “I wanted to talk to you.” He twisted the cap open and took a long sip, still refusing to meet my eyes. I bit harder on my lower lip like I was about to cut it off. The silence stretched between us.
“Talk about what?” he asked finally.
I stared at the floor, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. This was stupid, and childish. I had replayed this moment in my head all evening, and backing out now felt worse than embarrassment, “I...” My voice faltered. I forced myself to finish. “I want your number.” He choked, water spluttered down his chin as he coughed, staring at me as if I had just confessed to murder, “I’m sorry!” I blurted, mortified. “I didn’t mean to, I just thought..." My voice tailed off, I didn't even know what to say next
He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, still looking stunned. “You want my number?”
I bit my lower lip and nodded, lowering my gaze. “I thought we were friends.” Finally, I find my voice, but the word felt fragile, “And friends call each other,” I added quickly. “Or text, or even chat.” He stared at me like he was trying to understand a language he didn’t speak, “You don’t want to give it to me?” I asked, my voice shrinking, My chest tightened. I hadn’t expected rejection to hurt this quickly. Rafael had indirectly rejected me all week but never for once did I feel this pain in my chest.
He exhaled sharply. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
He shook his head slightly. “I’m not sure your father would like it, and worst of it, you are my brother's fiancée.”
I blinked. “How would my father find out?” His jaw tightened, “It would just be the two of us,” I said softly. “No one else has to know, and we are not doing anything bad.” The words sounded dangerous the moment they left my mouth.
His lips parted slightly, like he was about to argue again but then we heard footsteps echoing down the hallway, "fuck!" Nikolai cursed under his breath, but before I could react, he grabbed my hand, “Come on.”
My heart jumped as he pulled me toward the side door near the pantry. He moved fast, silently, like he had memorized every escape route in this house, we slipped through another exit and climbed the narrow back staircase. The night air hit my face as we emerged onto the rooftop. The cold air of winter met my face, and the city lights stretched endlessly beyond the estate walls. The sky was filled with fireworks, of course, people were celebrating Christmas. For a second, I forgot to breathe, then a loud bang echoed from somewhere below, a door slamming, but my mind didn’t register it as a door. It registered it as a gunshot, and suddenly I was back in the hall, bullets tearing through walls, glass shattering, people screaming. My chest tightened violently, and I clamped my hands over my ears; that fear I didn't experience during the shootouts came in like a hurricane: “No,” I whispered. “No, no!” Another sound, just wind this time, but it didn’t matter.
My body reacted before logic could, I felt the fear swallow me whole, that was my first time, to be in such a place even though my dad is a Mafia don, “Elena.” His voice sounded far away. I squeezed my eyes shut, and then his hands were on me. They were firm and grounding he pulled me into his chest without hesitation, wrapping his arms around my shaking frame. My forehead pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was steady. “It’s over,” he murmured. “You’re safe.”
I didn’t realize I was trembling until he tightened his hold, “I hate gunshots,” I whispered weakly. “I thought I was braver.”
He exhaled softly, one hand moving to cradle the back of my head. “You are brave.” I shook my head, “You survived, and you didn't show fear all evening, you handled yourself very well.” I slowly lowered my hands from my ears, but I didn’t pull away from him. His warmth cut through the cold night air. He gently tilted my chin upward. “Look at me.” I hesitated, then I did, our eyes met, and the city lights reflected faintly in his dark gaze. Those eyes, I haven't figured out exactly what colors they are. There was no teasing, no sarcasm, no guarded indifference only concern was there. His thumb brushed lightly against my cheek, “You’re safe,” he repeated, the world felt very small on that rooftop, and suddenly it was just him, I could see, my breath slowed, his face was so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath, I parted my lips to say something, his gaze drop to my lips, his thumb move from my cheeks, and they brushed my lips
“Nikolai…” I whispered, he didn’t answer, my heart pounded so loud I was certain he could hear it. This was wrong. I was engaged, engaged to his brother, but none of that seemed to matter in this moment, and this wasn't the first time. His lips were entangled with mine. He lowered his head slowly, as if giving me time to stop him. I didn’t, then his lips brushed mine, and then I opened up for him, and just like that, his tongue found its way inside my mouth. The kiss grow deeper, he move his hand to the back of my head, pulling me in more, he slowly move and grabbed my legs, resting them on his waist, my hand crawl around his neck, his lips trail my jawline, till they found my neck, he nibble on my skin and I moaned and He pulled back almost immediately, like my moan had reminded him that he was playing with fire. My fingers unconsciously curled into the fabric of his shirt. "Why did you stop?" I whispered.
He didn't reply to that. Instead, he stepped back slightly, creating distance and rebuilding the wall. “You should go inside,” he said. “It’s cold.”
I felt the loss of his warmth immediately, “I still don’t have your number,” I said softly.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth despite everything, “You’re persistent.”
"Is it bad?” he didn't answer, he just stepped closer, enough for me to inhale his nice scent, then he took my phone gently from my hand, his fingers brushed mine, my pulse fluttered again, I watched as his fingers, moved steadily on my phone screen, then he handed it back.
“There.” Just one single word, but enough to make the butterflies in my stomach giggle. I stared at the screen. He didn't save it. I got the urge to ask him what I should save his number with, but on second thought, I abandoned the idea.
My chest felt light and heavy at the same time, “Will you answer if I call?” I find myself asking because Nikolai was one strange human that I can't understand, he looked out over the city before answering.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you’re calling as someone’s fiancée,” he said quietly, “or as yourself.” I looked at him, lost, before I could reply, he had turned and left. I stood there, smiling as I pressed my phone to my chest.
"Elena?" My heart left my chest when I turned and saw Rafael standing there, "Are you the one with Nikolai in the kitchen just now?"