Page 47 of Diamond Don

KAT

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, suspicious.

“You’ll see. In due time,” Nik says cryptically, the corners of his mouth twisting in amusement.

“You can’t just leave it at that.”

He grins. “Watch me. As I was saying before you tried to sidetrack me—again—you may not have entered this agreement out of your own free will, but I hope we can manage to make the best of this situation for however long it lasts.”

“Okay…” I say, unsure of where he is going with this and uncertain of where I want him to go with it.

“You might not have volunteered to work for me, but you are now working for me. And I take care of my people. So, as long as you and I are in this together, I want you to feel like this is your home. You’re not my prisoner, Kat.”

Is Nik kidding me? I scoff. This may be a gilded, limitless-AmEx-card-adorned cage, but it’s still a cage. He had to kidnap me to have me in his home—quite literally. And now that I’m here, he won’t let me leave, or interact with other men, for that matter.

“I understand you may disagree,” he says, choosing to ignore my reaction. “But, for what it’s worth, I really do hope you can make the best out of a bad situation. I know you don’t like the restrictions I put in place?—”

“To put it mildly,” I say, interjecting.

“But I believe you’ll see that I’ll compensate you fairly for my strict demands. On top of that, I want you to know that you’re more than welcome to invite A.J. or any of your friends over at any time. Also, obviously, you’re free to come and go as you please. As long as you give me proper notice, of course.”

“Of course,” I say sardonically.

Nik sighs.

“I don’t mean to be overbearing, but the man we’re up against is dangerous. I won’t have you or anyone else under my protection harmed by him. I understand I might come across as a controlling jerk, but I’ll do what I must—always. Especially when it comes to keeping my people safe.”

His earnest concern for my safety makes me uncomfortable. It’s a very novel and unfamiliar notion. I’m not used to people looking out for me. I’m the one who takes care of others. Hence my current predicament, of course.

“Right. So you’ve told me,” I say. “But I’m not convinced you aren’t just getting off on making me do whatever you damn well please.”

Humor sparkles in his gorgeous eyes. “Maybe a little.”

I smile. “That’s what I thought.”

Nik returns my smile before turning his attention back to the screen. I do the same—or at least, I act like I do. Deep inside, my mind is racing, trying to make sense of the avalanche of conflicting emotions rushing through me.

On one hand, Nikolai’s still the enemy. The Russian’s the huge, insurmountable obstacle between me and a mafia-boss-free future—everything I’ve been working on for the past few months. And he’s still an overbearing, controlling bastard when it suits him to be.

Yet, I’m floored—and maybe even a little disarmed—by his concern for my welfare and safety. Not to mention, the man attempted to provide me with a bit of freedom. His offer to give me back some control over my life caught me completely off guard.

Of course, Nik’s rules about how I get to exert that little shred of control are ridiculous. But as bossy as he may be, at least he isn’t ordering me around just for the sake of it. Well, not entirely. Nik believes he’s protecting me. The idea is absurd, but it’s not just an arbitrary whim on his part.

On top of all of it, his generosity shocked me. Nik is rich enough to hang out with the likes of Bezos and Gates, so it’s not like he will miss the money or the Mercedes-Benz. Still, the man has enough dirt on me that compensating me financially for my services isn’t necessary. The stronzo never did.

I don’t know what to make of Nik. It doesn’t make things any easier that I’m still insanely attracted to him. Nonetheless, all the reasons why he and I shouldn’t be romantically or sexually involved are still valid. Regardless of whether we are friendly or not, I must wrap up this job of his as soon as possible—for my own sake, for my own heart’s sake, too. A man as controlling as him is the last thing I want—or need—in my life.

“That’s Maxim.” Nik points at the screen as a dark-haired man enters the frame—his friend who was murdered that night. At last, I can put a face to the name, and it’s a very handsome one. Maxim’s brown hair falls in waves over his forehead, his eyes flashing blue as he faces the security camera. Even through the low-resolution surveillance footage, his high cheekbones and strong jawline are hard to miss.

As discreetly as possible, I glance at the man next to me. He is clenching his jaw, eyes glued to the screen.

“How long had you two been friends?” I ask, unsure what to say but feeling the need to break the silence between us.

“Pretty much my entire life,” he says with a sigh, picking up the remote to skip the footage forward. “Here it is.”

Nik pauses the video, and the frame is frozen as the surveillance camera focuses on a tall-looking man. He is lean, seemingly in his early sixties. His salt-and-pepper gray hair is cropped short, and he is dressed in a dark suit with a dark shirt underneath.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

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