đNicole
The sight of Papa, large and commanding, with his face a mask of primal fury, was enough to break the terrifying paralysis I was in. With the fear of having landed Sergei in trouble, I launched myself at him, running until I was buried in his expensive suit, inhaling the familiar scent of tobacco and safety.
He forgot his anger immediately. His arms locked around me in a fierce hug. "Vsyo v poryadke?" he rumbled, his voice rough with panic.
(Vsyo v poryadke?: Everything is fine?)
I just nodded, clinging to him like a life raft. He finally pulled me back, holding me at arm's length, visually checking every inch of me.
"Why did you leave the house, malyshka?" he asked, his Russian soft now.
(Malyshka: baby girl)
"Papa, mne bylo skuchno," I whispered back, knowing that was the only excuse that ever worked on him.
(Mne bylo skuchno: I was bored.)
His eyes, still sharp, landed on Sergei. I rushed to speak before he could open his mouth, saving Sergei.
"I snuck out, Papa. I came here alone," I lied smoothly, feeling my heart rate increase. "Then, I realized I was in trouble and needed to leave cause it wasn't nice that I sneaked out. I used someone's phone to call Sergei, his was the only number I could remember to come pick me up. But before he got here, that man came and Leonardo stepped in."
Leonardo let out a single, low scoff that went straight through me. My heart gave a painful thud. The bastard. He knew I was lying.
Was he going to call me out?
Papa totally bought it and Leonardo didn't call me out. I sighed in relief when he turned to Sergei. "Next time something like this happens, you signal me immediately."
Sergei nodded, wiping sweat from his brow, having escaped my papa and Leonardo's wrath all in one go.
Papa turned to Leonardo, extending a hand this time. "Thank you, Leonardo. For⊠for calling me."
Wait. What?
My internal eyeballs almost popped out of my head. Calling him?! I whipped my head around to stare at Leonardo. The fuck? Why would he call my father when he knew Papa didn't even know I was out?
I glared at him, and the tight, cold line of his mouth finally curved into a victorious, predatory smirk.
The bastard. I was thinking he had suddenly changed, that the fear in the moment was mutual. But he was worse than anything I could imagine. He had called my father not to help me, but to establish dominance, and to make sure I got grounded for a lifetime.
Just then, another man approached and greeted them. I recognized him immediately, he was another high-ranking Mafia lord Papa sometimes worked with.
The man looked at me, confusion replacing his pleasant smile. "Your daughter, Dimitri?"
I was about to say, Oh, they just helped me out, no big deal, but Papa cut me off.
"Yes," Papa said, his voice firm, folding me slightly into his side. "This is my daughter, Nicole."
I froze. He had never publicly acknowledged me like that. Not Grace, but me.
The man recovered quickly and reached out his hand to greet me, but Papa didn't let him.
Two times in a row in one night I haven't been allowed to shake hands.
The man chuckled. "Dimitri, you're overly protective! I don't bite." He looked back at me, still amused. "I saw the scene earlier, but I didn't realize the girl was worth all that trouble."
My father's face hardened. He asked the man if the harassing creep was still somewhere around. The man nodded. Papa told Sergei, in fast Russian, to take me to the car and wait for them. I tried to protest, telling him the man wasn't worth it, but Papa pushed me gently toward the exit.
Sergei and I got to the car. The minutes stretched into an eternity.
"Thank you, Nicole," Sergei said, his voice quiet.
"It's fine, Sergei. I dragged you out here anyway," I replied.
"No, I mean... I'm sorry I wasn't there."
I gave him a big, genuine smile that finally eased the tension in his eyes, and we both laughed nervously.
Then, Sergei looked at me oddly. "Are you okay with the jacket, Nicole?"
I looked down. Leonardo's jacket. I was still wearing it. The fabric, still faintly warm, felt like a dangerous second skin.
Sergei made to take off his own bomber jacket. "Here, you can wear mine. I'll go give Leonardo his back."
"No!" I snapped, maybe too quickly. "It's fine. I'm going to wash it first before I return it. I don't want to give it back without washing it."
I leaned back against the car, instantly quiet. I didn't want to wash it, and I didn't want to give it back. I wanted to keep it.
My heart was still racing. Why did the sight of him with a gun against a man's head, standing up for me, make my heart pound?
Papa finally emerged from the club with his guards, Leonardo, and a few others. I quickly slid into the back seat and closed the door, shrinking against the window, hoping he wouldn't notice me or the jacket. I watched through the dark window as Leonardo and his group walked away.
⣠⣠⣠⣠⣠⣠âŁ
I was the first person to tear through the front door of the mansion. I needed to be horizontal before I melted into a puddle of anxiety and confusion.
Before I could even get into my room properly, Grace rushed into my room, closing the door behind her.
"I heard everything! Papa was panicking! Are you okay?" she whispered, eyes wide.
I hurled my heels onto the carpet and flopped onto the bed. Grace examined me, her eyebrows raised. "You're quiet. Are you traumatized?"
"Worse than traumatized, Gracie," I groaned, turning my head to the side. I recounted the horror show, the guy grabbing my hair, the gunshot, the sheer terror of Leonardo at his most ruthless.
Grace laughed a little nervously. "But at least Leonardo was there to help."
I nodded, the chaos finally catching up to me. When she asked what was wrong, I told her I didn't know if his intervention was a good thing or a bad thing, because he actually called Papa.
Grace nodded seriously. "I was there when Papa answered. He totally panicked. That was pure, raw fear."
"The devil," I muttered. "I don't know when he reached out. He literally waited until the very end, after he helped me, just to screw me over."
"But what was he like when he stood up for you?" Grace asked, her hands clasped under her chin, her eyes wide and dreamy.
"He wasâŠ" I stopped. I didn't want to tell her how lethal he looked, or how hot the word daughter sounded coming from him. I looked back at Grace's dreamy face, then gave a huge, fake yawn. "Honestly, I don't remember."
Grace immediately hit me with a pillow, knowing I was lying, and I could only laugh. A guilty kind of laugh.
"I wish I had come with you," Grace said, sighing dramatically.
"Why?" I asked, instantly mocking her, I could totally bet that grace could never break the rules. So the chance that she would have come with me was a zero.
"Because then it would have been me in trouble, and Leonardo would have stepped in! It would have been perfect!"
My heart hammered against my ribs at the thought of her being near him, as if she wasn't the one getting married to him soon but I masked the reaction with an immediate, superior roll of my eyes. "This isn't Cinderella's Story, Gracie. Or Rapunzel's."
I stood up. "I need a change of clothes." I was trying to escape the conversation.
Grace's eyes locked onto me. "Wait, is that Leonardo's jacket?"
I looked down. Damn it. I nodded.
"Can I keep it? Please? He won't even remember. I want to keep it and smell him, just to store the memory before the wedding!" she begged, reaching for the lapel.
"No!. Looking at you, one would think you both are actually in love." I said, grabbing the jacket tightly. "And besides you'll get married soon enough. You can smell him all you want then. I'll return this jacket. It was given to me. And Leonardo and I are no friends."
I marched into the bathroom and locked the door while Grace yelled my name in protest.
My heart was pounding. I took the jacket off, holding it carefully. I lifted it to my nose, inhaling deeply. The scent, wood smoke, leather, a clean, sharp spice, everything Leonardo's hit me, and a sudden, vivid image of him, leaning over me in the church hallway, his eyes full of sin, flashed in my head.
I tossed the jacket onto the counter like it had burned me.
"What the hell am I doing?" I whispered, staring at my flushed face in the bathroom mirror.