đź’ś Nicole
Sergei didn't make a sound.
The door opened.
His eyes widened.
He froze.
And then he was gone.
Just like that. No shout, no lecture, no dragging Leonardo off me.
He simply turned around and left, closing the door quietly behind him as if he'd accidentally walked in on someone praying, not… us.
My lungs finally remembered how to work.
"Oh my God....Sergei—"
I shoved Leonardo off me in a blind panic, nearly tripping as I scrambled toward the door. My heart was slamming against my ribs so violently it hurt.
I needed to stop Sergei. Stop him from telling Papa. Stop him from telling anyone. Stop him from breathing, maybe. I didn't know. My brain wasn't functioning.
But Leonardo caught my wrist mid-step.
"Nicole," he said sharply. "You can't leave this room like that."
"What...what are you talking about? I have to—"
"You're wearing only a T-shirt." His gaze flicked downward. My thighs clenched instinctively. "And underwear that's still wet. You smell like—" He stopped himself, jaw twitching.
My face burst into flames.
He dragged a hand through his hair, breathing hard. "Does he always walk into your room without knocking?" he asked.
The implication hit me like a slap. We were caught and all he was bothered about was Sergei walking into my room without knocking?
My glare snapped to him. "You're unbelievable."
He stepped closer, lowering his head to my level with slow, terrible confidence.
"You don't get to glare at me like that anymore," he said quietly. "Not after what you just did." His eyes flicked to the bed. "Not after what we just did. It's not just an assumption that you want me. I know it for sure now."
"Get out," I whispered, throat tight.
His brows lifted. Not mocking, just certain. "No. You don't want me gone, you just feel guilty."
"GET. OUT."
He didn't argue. Didn't fight. Didn't smirk.
He simply stepped back and let me go.
I fled into the bathroom and locked the door before he could say anything else, not that he tried to stop me. The lock clicked so loudly it echoed in my skull.
I leaned my forehead against the cool wood, trying not to hyperventilate.
My body was still shaking. God, I could still feel him. The imprint of his hands, his mouth, his voice, my name on his lips like a verdict.
I slid into the shower without turning on the water, sitting on the floor tiles with my knees to my chest.
For a long time, I didn't move. Time lost shape.
My thoughts wouldn't stop:
What did I just do?
Why did I let him touch me like that?
Why didn't I stop the moment he looked at me like he wanted to devour me?
Why did it feel… good? Too good?
Oh God, Grace. Grace.
Papa will kill me. Papa will kill him. The Russians will kill him. Then the Italians will kill us. Then everyone will kill everyone.
Why do I feel guilty? Why do I feel relieved?
Why do I feel… attached?
Why did I say I was his? What the hell is wrong with me?
Was this just guilt? Did I really not want him to leave?
I should hate him. No I do hate him.
So why am I craving the way he said my name?
I pressed my palms into my eyes as if I could shove the thoughts out.
Eventually, I turned the water on. Steam filled the bathroom. My mind still raced.
I stayed under the water until my skin pricked and the sound of the shower drowned my thoughts into something resembling numbness.
Only when I heard the sound of my room door open… and then close… did I finally step out.
Leonardo was gone.
Good.
No.
Good.
(But no.)
I dried off slowly, still feeling like my bones were vibrating, put on fresh clothes, and stepped back into my room.
I froze.
Grace was sitting on my bed.
She looked pale. Lost. Her hands were clasped on her lap like she was about to disappear. She didn't even notice me until I walked closer.
"Grace?" I whispered.
She flinched so hard her hand flew to her chest.
My stomach dropped. "Why are you surprised to see me?, you are in my room, so I shouldn't startle you cause you know I'm in it and why do you look like a ghost who just learned she's dead? What's going on?"
Grace pushed off the bed, grabbed my arm, and pulled me into the corner of the room like someone might be listening.
I glanced around, heart pounding again. Was this about Leonardo? Sergei? Papa?
Grace's eyes darted everywhere. "Nicole, I… I did something bad."
I blinked. "I did too and you don't see me acting like I'm being hunted by the Secret Service." I crossed my arms. "Just say it already."
She swallowed. "I… let Leonardo upstairs."
I exhaled in relief so hard I nearly collapsed. I gently pried her hand off my arm and walked toward my closet.
"That's it? Jesus, Grace." I grabbed my lotion. "Why would you scare me like th—"
"Why aren't you panicking?" she asked, confused. "The engagement party is over. The Italians left and I'm doomed."
I froze mid-reach.
"What do you mean doomed?"
"Papa would kill me." She exclaimed "Leonardo asked about you btw"
Silly girl she was worried about Papa finding out she let Leonardo upstairs and she still had time to remember him asking about him?
My heart did a damn cartwheel anyways but I ignored it.
Instead, I asked, "Did Papa or anyone catch him coming upstairs?"
Grace shook her head rapidly.
I narrowed my eyes. "Use your words."
"No," she said quickly. "No one saw him."
"Then what's the problem?" I demanded.
Grace wrung her hands. "Nicole… I just heard one of Papa's men say that Papa plans to watch all the CCTV footage later." Her voice began trembling. "To make sure no Italian tried anything funny during the party."
My lotion slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a loud crack.
I turned to her slowly.
"What?" I breathed.
She winced. "The cameras will show Leonardo coming upstairs. And I'm the one who allowed him."
The oxygen left my lungs.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was the single catastrophic thought that hit me hard:
It was just Sergei I had to worry about talking to.
Papa is also going to see Leonardo in my room…
with me…
With everything he just did to me on my bed.
My mind scream echoed through the entire floor.
Hell no.