Nikolai: The Complete Collection

24. Justine

24

JUSTINE

W hen Vladimir removes his knife from my left rib, I clutch my shredded clothes close to my body. Tears roll down my cheeks unchecked, but I don’t brush them away. My desire to cover the scars Vladimir has been eyeing with disgust is more urgent than my need to clear the devastation from my face.

I’ve never been more humiliated in my life. I thought the laughter I endured when mauled by a dog would be the worst thing I’d hear in my lifetime.

It wasn’t—not even close.

The taunting I encounter between bids has made the slosh in my stomach race up my windpipe more times than I can count.

If the fact I was being sold wasn’t already outrageous enough, hearing detailed descriptions of what the men plan to do to me when they win is horrendous.

They speak about me as if I’m a piece of meat—a mere pawn to play with before being tossed aside like trash—making me scared. Angry. Lost.

My conflicting emotions peak when Vladimir rolls his index finger across my cheek, gathering a hot, salty tear. “You’d do best to save these for your new owners. They love collecting tears from pretty little dolls.” His words are laced with warning, but the covetousness in his tone doesn’t relay the firmness of his threat.

Watching me through heavy-hooded eyes, he pops his wet finger into his mouth. He licks away my tears with a slither of his tongue, making my stomach roll. When he releases a throaty groan, bile scorches my throat. The thought of any part of my body, even something as simple as my tears, giving him pleasure makes me violently ill.

“It is such a pity you have these,” he murmurs, trailing his finger over a scar my ruined clothing fails to conceal. “If you were unmarked, nothing would have stopped me from having you beneath me.”

“Thank god for mangy mutts,” I mumble under my breath before I can stop my words.

His dark eyes flare, apparently more welcoming of my spiteful tongue than his lifelong rival Col Petretti.

It was my inability to stop my reaction to a snippy remark Col made that led to my being mauled by a dog four years ago. Since I grew up sheltered by my four older brothers, I thought I was invincible.

The fall from grace was very hard and extremely painful.

Col and Vladimir have a lot of similarities. Both are mafia kingpins. Both value the lives of their sons over their daughters, and both make my skin crawl with an equal amount of disgust and repulsion.

There is only one difference between them.

I am not here because I rejected Vladimir’s son.

I’m here because I accepted him.

“He’s going to kill you,” I mutter, my fear of retribution not enough to prevent my warning.

I don’t need to use Nikolai’s name for Vladimir to know to whom my threat pertains. The darkening of his eyes and the pulse in his nape tell me he is aware.

His frightened response spurs my determination, fueling me to warn, “When he discovers you’ve taken me, he won’t stop hunting until he finds me. And when he finds me, which we both know he will , I suggest you fall to your knees and beg for mercy. Because this time, when he holds his knife to your throat, nothing will stop him from removing your crown. Not me. Not you. Not anyone.”

My head slings to the side when Vladimir backhands me with force. His hit doesn’t weaken the vindictive grin spreading across my face in the slightest. If anything, my smile grows.

He lashed out because he knew every word I spoke was gospel.

Circumstances beyond Nikolai’s control made him a hunter years ago, but this hunt is different. This hunt is personal. Just like there is no greater power than a lioness protecting her cub, nothing will stop Nikolai’s pledge of protection. He promised to keep me safe. He will keep his promise.

Vladimir’s slit-eyed gaze drops to the rippled skin on my ribcage. Its ghastly appearance is compliments of cartilage being torn from my bone during my mauling four years ago. “Get her out of here before I damage the merchandise more than it already is.”

The brute who lugged me into the room clutches the top of my arm and roughly drags me to the door. I don’t know if he’s being extra aggressive to put on a show in front of the numerous men watching the spectacle unfold from the corner of the room, or because his patience is as thinly stretched as mine. But whatever it is, his manhandling stacks the fire in my stomach with more wood, growing it to a point I can’t ignore.

“ Если вы не хотите умирать, я предлагаю вам уйти сейчас ,” I warn, my enunciation leaving no doubt to the honesty in my threat.

If they want to survive, they better leave before Nikolai arrives. Nikolai has never hidden his protectiveness of me. He has openly said on numerous occasions he will kill a thousand men before he’d let anyone between us, and that is what he will do if they don’t heed my warning.

“Nikolai is coming. He will kill you all if you stand in his way,” I warn in Russian, my arrogance feeding off the panic flaring in the eyes of the men tracking me.

“Get her out of here! Now!” Vladimir shouts, his voice so loud the women trapped behind the padlocked doors scream in panic.

Although his frightened response is unexpected, it mimics those of half the men surrounding him. Most are staring at me with wide, panicked eyes, but a small handful are glancing at Vladimir, stunned by his outburst. They can smell his fear as effectively as I can.

He should be scared. He raised Nikolai to be a killer, and he is mere hours from discovering how precise his tactics were.

Fighting with the strength Nikolai has always seen in me, I continue issuing threat after threat until my throat is as raw as my heart feels. I know Nikolai is coming. I can feel it in my bones and smell it on my skin. And now that I’ve warned them of his arrival, my conscience is free of guilt. They either leave or suffer Nikolai’s wrath.

If they’re smart men, they will leave.

“You either stupidly believe you have a golden pussy, or a lack of nutrients has made you crazy,” grunts the blond man clutching my arm when we’re halfway down the hall. “Nikolai would never challenge his father’s title over a whore.”

“When did I say this fight was solely about me?” My words come out garbled, forced through overworked windpipes struggling to keep up with his fast pace down the hall. “Revenge has always been a dish best served cold. Thirteen years couldn’t make it any colder.”

The man stops walking, his hand moving for my throat so fast that I fail to secure a breath before my ability to breathe is lost.

“How do you know what happened thirteen years ago?” he hisses, his voice as hot-tempered as his face. “Nobody knows what happened thirteen years ago. Not even the men in the room know what happened thirteen years ago.”

The fury of his tone can’t hide the panic dangling on his vocal cords. He is more frightened than I was when my skirt was shredded from my body by Vladimir’s knife.

“Answer me!” he roars, his empty hand crashing through the drywall at the side of my head, showering my shoulders with fragments of dust and gypsum.

My fingernails dig into his leathery skin when he firms his grip on my neck, which lowers my wheezy breaths to barely a trickle.

Realizing I’m no contest for a man his size, I drag out, “Niko… lai.” My confession snatches the last of the air in my lungs.

The stranger glares into my eyes, gauging the truth from them. He must see something in them, as he loosens his grip on my neck, freeing me from asphyxiation with only a second to spare.

“You’re Nikolai’s girl.”

Even though his tone relays he isn’t asking a question, my head bobs up and down.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs as his eyes sling sideways. “We’re all fucking dead.”

“You don’t have to be,” I propose, my bloodshot eyes bouncing between his. “If you let me go, I’ll tell Nikolai you saved me, that you were the one who set me free.”

His brows stitch together as unease clouds his eyes. “You think that will stop him? He won’t stop hunting until every man who saw you like…”—he stops talking to rake his eyes down my scarcely covered body— “ that is dead. We were ordered not to share the same air as you, much less look at you when you entered a room. That’s why he killed Sergei, because the dumb fuck wouldn’t give up his quest for revenge no matter how stern the warning.”

His admission shocks me, but not in the way I anticipated. I should be mortified that Nikolai killed Sergei to protect me, but all I am feeling is gratitude. If Sergei had heeded Nikolai’s warning, his life would have been spared, just like every man in this warehouse.

“Sergei only died because Nikolai was protecting me. That won’t happen to you if you let me go.”

When the man contemplates my reply, I know I’m getting through to him.

“Nikolai promised to keep me safe. Help him keep his word, and I will do everything possible to get you out of this situation alive…”

My words trail off to silence when a snarled, “How precious,” thunders through my ears. “A pledge of protection. It must be true love.”

My eyes slit as they rocket to the voice. Malvina is sauntering down the hall, the jaunty sparkle in her eyes not matching her battered face. I should feel guilty that a thick coat of makeup has failed to conceal the bruise extending from her nose to her left ear, but I don’t. She attacked me. I merely defended myself. No guilt is to be felt.

After stopping in front of me, Malvina spreads her hand across the unnamed man’s chest to push him away from me. He steps far enough away I can gauge her importance in this industry but not far enough for me to miss the smell of worry seeping from his skin.

With the glare of a shark, she rakes her beady eyes down my half-naked frame. Her desolate gaze adds to the heat Vladimir’s slap caused to my cheek, but I don’t back down. I roll my shoulders and stand tall, my stance warning her the loss of our first tussle hasn’t dampened my campaign.

I will protect Nikolai as fiercely as he protects me.

I will defend him until my heart thumps its very last beat.

“Oh, you poor child. You have no clue about this lifestyle, do you?” Malvina sighs, feigning sorrow. She will never be an A-grade actress. Her performance is the worst I’ve seen.

“You realize Nikolai’s interests only last as long as his latest high? The instant he comes down from whatever substance he’s been tripping on the past two weeks, he’ll drop you faster than a hot potato before moving on to the next flavor of the month.” She laughs as if humored by her reply. “When I heard you were a lawyer, I thought I’d have to up my game.” She rolls her eyes, bringing her IQ closer to her age. “I shouldn’t have bothered. You’re as dimwitted as every other whore Nikolai has bedded the past four years.” Her lips curl into a sly smirk when the color drains from my face.

“Oh goodness, you thought you were the only one he fooled with during our engagement? I hate to tell you this, but you are no more important to Nikolai than the many other whores he keeps locked in this very compound for personal use.”

After Malvina revels my wide eyes and shallow breaths, her eyes stray down the long line of doors. “I heard he took quite a liking to Kristina last weekend. Perhaps you could share notes on his likes and dislikes. She doesn’t speak English, but that shouldn’t bother you since you understand Czech.”

Her eyes remain focused on one door, ensuring I know exactly who has her utmost devotion. It is the blue-eyed female who earlier warned me of my meeting with the devil. The woman who accepted my promise of help at face value.

After returning her eyes to mine, Malvina discloses, “Kristina wasn’t warning you about Vladimir. She’s only had the pleasure of meeting one Popov member. Vladimir isn’t him. That obsessive showering routine you witnessed from Nikolai last weekend… Kristina is to blame for that.”

“Like I’d believe a single word fired from your mouth,” I snarl.

I’m smarter than she thinks I am.

The cockiness in her eyes brightens, illuminating her icy-blue gaze. The reason for her boastful swagger comes to light when she pulls a delivery confirmation form from her pants pocket and hands it to me.

Although the document is printed in Russian, my love of language also extends to written text, so I have no problem deciphering it.

Auction Date: July 2nd

Slave Sold: Kristina Svoboda

Winning Bidder : Nikolai Popov

Amount : $1.3 Million

Funds Transfer: Approved

Slave Collected By: Nikolai Elian Popov

A dash of hesitation weakens my resolve when my eyes scan the signature scribbled on the bottom of the form. The flare of the elegant E matches Nikolai’s signature on his court documentation earlier this week, but something is off with this document. It looks authentic, but my intuition warns me not to be so gullible.

My narrowed gaze darts to Malvina when she sneers, “Still want to protect him?”

I nod. “This doesn’t change anything,” I reply, my tone neutral and without jealousy.

Her eyes lift from the document I’m holding out for her, returning to mine.

She tries to act unaffected by my nonchalant response.

She miserably fails.

“How doesn’t it change anything?” Her pitch is so high the man standing at our side gawking at our exchange cringes.

“It proves what I’ve always known.” I wait for her interest to switch from eager to annoyed, before saying, “If you weren’t so pathetic, Nikolai wouldn’t need to stray.”

The blond man coughs to hide his chuckle while Malvina slaps me. Since I am prepared for her outburst, the sting of her hit is nowhere near as bad as Vladimir’s.

Although shocked by the vindictiveness of my words, I’m glad I couldn’t leash my tongue. Malvina wants to pretend this fight is personal, but I don’t believe that. Her quest for revenge is more profound than a woman scorned by deceit. She doesn’t just hate me. She hates society in general. Outside of this realm, I may have believed her jealous lover act, but the money-hungry, power-Nazi vibe pulsating out of her is too intense to discount.

She doesn’t want Nikolai.

She wants his birthright.

Pinching my chin between her index finger and thumb, Malvina returns my eyes to hers. “Why would I fake interest in a prince when I can have the king?”

Goosebumps creep across my skin as I’m bombarded with disturbing thoughts.

Who in their right mind would pick a man like Vladimir over Nikolai?

A sick and highly disturbed individual, that’s who.

Mercifully, I’m saved from issuing a response to Malvina’s question when a thick Russian accent bellows down the corridor. “Take her to Nikolai’s room. Her buyers are on their way.”

Unease surfaces when the unnamed brute resumes dragging me down the hall, sidestepping a grinning Malvina on the way.

“Word to the wise, don’t fight. It only turns them on more,” she snickers evilly.

I wait until we’re out of earshot before continuing my ploy to change the stranger’s mindset. “You don’t have to do this,” I whisper when we take the corner of a dark and dingy hallway. “Let me go, and I’ll pretend I never saw you.”

The man smirks. It isn’t a rainbow-on-a-crystal-clear-blue-sky type of grin. It’s cold and reserved, adding to the clamminess of my skin. “When you create a storm, you can’t cry when it rains. You just whip out an umbrella and pray it passes quickly.”

My chance to reply is lost when he unlocks a room on our right and shoves me into a pitch-black space. I scamper backward when the darkness swamping me forces a collision with a recurring nightmare.

Although frightened beyond belief, I charge for the door, praying I will reach the opening before I’m left trapped and helpless. The last time I was thrown into a pitch-black room ended with me being mauled by a dog. The darkness left me defenseless to stop the dog’s onslaught, as I had no clue where he was coming from. The louder I screamed, the harder he came at me.

My heart falls from my ribcage when I fail to reach the door before it slams shut, and blankets the room with dancing shadows and painful memories.

“Please,” I beg, pounding my fists on the thick reinforced door. “Please don’t leave me in here. I’ll do anything you want. Anything at all!”

I claw at the door, the pain of my nails tearing from my skin not incentive enough to stop my wish to escape. While issuing plea after plea, I pound on the door repeatedly, not giving in until exhaustion inevitably kicks in.