Page 54 of Twisted Cage

Tossing my hair up in a messy knot on my head, I take one last look in the mirror, square my shoulders, and prepare to face whatever waits for me outside this room.

I pause at Faith’s door and listen for a moment to her muffled voice on the other side as she sings to Lexi and Alex. From the sounds, she is putting them back to sleep so she won’t be joining us anytime soon.

So much for a buffer.

My fingers itch to turn the handle and slip into the sanctuary of our friendship, but it will only delay the inevitable.

The hallway opens up into a massive living area. Or at least massive last night. Today, Nikolaj’s mood judging by dark eyebrows slashed over narrowed eyes and the hard line of his mouth, shrinks the space to a shoebox.

A toddler shoebox at that.

He lounges on the couch with deceptive ease, but I know that look. He uses it as a tool to keep associates and enemies off-balance.

Like a snake ready to strike, his sharp gaze locks on me. The fingers he’s been drumming on the end table go still.

“Nikolaj.”

He doesn’t know what to do with me. Especially not when I greet him with just his name. The last time he saw me, I was in Paris. A teen girl, drunk on the independence from my family, even if it was a way to punish me and keep me from Konstantin.

We spent four days exploring the Louvre and Monet’s Gardens, followed by a dizzying amount of champagne tours and dining at my favorite places throughout the city. It was the last time I felt a sense of true peace.

Standing before him now, I no longer resemble that girl.

At the time, I had unlimited access to the finest salons and spas, and no end to funds for only the best designer clothes. My only care in the world had been my appearance.

But now, my outfit from head to toe cost me under a hundred dollars. My nails, while neat, are a modest length and bare. My hair hasn’t seen a real salon in a year and a half.

“Lettie.” The affectionate lilt to my nickname brings with it sweet memories of running through the gardens with ice cream melting down our hands in the hot sun. Lazy afternoons of him teaching me to fearlessly let go of the handlebars of my bike and throw my arms up in the air. The first time a boy made me cry calling me a vile name, only to have Nikolaj knock out his two front teeth for the slight.

I force my feet to stay rooted to the floor as the instinct to run up and hug him washes through me. He is the last bit of family I can trust, whatever trust means to a Romanoff, but more than a year has passed and the divide looms wider than ever between us.

Longing fills me until my throat grows thick, choking back the sense of loss. The edge I’ve honed in my time away softens with his use of my nickname.

No path back to that bond exists. We only have whatever connection we build moving forward. The little girl counting on her big brother to pursue justice no longer exists.

I seek justice for myself.

He, no doubt, has a mountain of questions. For the first time in my life, I can’t give him all the answers. Not without detonating a bomb in what is left of our family.

Konstantin strolls in from a hall on the opposite side of the room, his coffee mug tipped to his lips. His gaze swings between us, his expression utterly unreadable.

Uncertainty swirls in my gut. Heightened awareness skitters over my skin as I study them to gauge the silent communication of their eye contact.

The air grows heavy with everything the three of us choose not to say. Destructive secrets. One between Konstantin and me. Likely dozens between Konstantin and Nikolaj forged in the bond they nurtured in the time I’d been away.

Now I stand on the outside looking in when I had always been the one who ultimately drew them together.

With a shake of Konstantin’s head and the tense flex of the muscle in his cheek, he ends his perusal and heads for the island, breaking the spell.

“I take it you’re not getting any ass, big brother? You’re looking grumpy as fuck.” I sail past him behind the armor of snark. Snagging a bottle of water from the fridge, I lock eyes with him over my shoulder. “You should do something about that before it becomes a medical condition.”

He raises one dark eyebrow but makes no move to stand. “The only medical condition I have is the pain permanently lodged in my ass from your antics.”

I drop into the chair across from him and toss one leg over the other. “I’m an adult, and even if I wasn’t, you’re not my father. My antics, as you call them, are none of your concern.”

He launches to his feet then and looms over me, his jaw tight. “When you put me in the position of having to buy your virginity for half a million dollars, it’s my damn concern.”

Pausing with the water bottle halfway to my lips, I tilt my head and focus on the vein next to his temple. “As I recall, Konstantin was the one who bought my virginity.”

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