Page 41 of Diamond Don

Before I can say anything, Nikolai departs.

16

KAT

My eyes snap open and I jolt awake, gasping for air.

As my heart races madly, I sit in bed, sheets falling to my waist. I take a second to realize I am not actually running for my life down a darkened street.

It was just a dream, but I’m safe now—or at least safe enough for the time being.

Unlike the faceless man chasing me in my nightmare, Nikolai has already caught me. For what it’s worth, he seems uninterested in killing or torturing me at the moment. Maybe it’s because he thinks he can use me to catch his own boogeyman. But something tells me it might be for another reason entirely.

My phone vibrates as I try to catch my breath, watching the sunrise through the windows in my new room. I check it right away and see it’s a text from A.J.

Sorry about last night. If you decide to tell the Russian to go to hell after all, I’m only one call away.

A sigh escapes me. After Nikolai left me in his kitchen last night, I came back to the bedroom to call A.J. Her reaction to my news was explosive, to say the least.

At first, she was furious with Nik, worried out of her mind about my abduction and the identity of my kidnapper. Once I shared all the details of my predicament, her anger shifted to me. My best friend was livid that I had never told her about meeting Nik at the gala. It didn’t matter to her that I didn’t know then who he was or that the diamond belonged to him. A.J. was disappointed with me on behalf of our friendship but also of our plan to destroy the stronzo. We can’t afford to keep secrets from each other when we’re so close to defeating him.

I apologized because I knew she had a point. Still angry, A.J. told me all about her meeting with Camilla, the stronzo’s former secretary. The woman delivered more than we expected. She told my best friend that there is hard evidence of the man’s secret. A.J. is working hard to track it down using the information Camilla shared.

After keeping Nik a secret from her, my friend’s apology text is more than what I deserve. I hurry to type my response.

Sorry again about keeping secrets. And I’m sorry I can’t track Camilla’s lead with you.

Her reply comes fast.

Don’t worry about it, boo. You have enough on your plate right now. And you’ve helped me too much already. It’s my mess to clean up. You just worry about keeping your Russian happy. But not too happy.

Rolling my eyes, I start typing my reply, ready to defend my honor. But she has a point.

Easier said than done, trust me.

After a second, I send her another quick text.

Be careful, A.J. Please.

Her response is immediate.

I will. And right back at you, Kitty Kat.

After promising to stay in touch and extracting the same promise from her, I set my phone down and prepare to face the day. I have no doubts it will be a tough one. Priority number one is to figure out how to get the upper hand with Nik—once and for all.

The alternative is unthinkable. To be helpless at the Russian’s mercy? Subject to his every whim? That won’t work for me.

Somehow, I must even the scales between us—sooner rather than later. The man has shown how mercurial he can be. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he is a Gemini. There is no time to waste. I must get him under control, even if it means seducing him.

So, I make quick work of getting ready since I don’t have much at my disposal to do so. Although I showered last night, I didn’t have any fresh clothes to wear. The closet I spotted yesterday is empty. All I could scavenge was basic toiletries—toothpaste, a fresh toothbrush, soap, shampoo and conditioner.

Less than fifteen minutes after waking up, I exit the room. It’s early enough that I doubt I’ll run into Nik. In my experience, handsome billionaires rarely wake up at the crack of dawn. I can’t say I blame them.

I’m sure he will track me down eventually, but hopefully not before I can eat breakfast and inhale an ungodly amount of coffee. After last night, I won’t be ready to face him until I get some food and caffeine.

I retrace my steps from the previous evening through the massive penthouse, and I find the kitchen. To my surprise, a tall stranger stands by the kitchen island, coffee mug in hand.

“Morning,” the man says over his mug’s rim before gulping some deliciously smelling coffee. “You must be Katherine Devereaux.”

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