Page 25 of Arranged Marriage By the Bratva

When life hands you sour Sicilian lemons, you squeeze what’s left of life out of them….

Chapter Seventeen

Elena

Sobbing, I dab the tissue to my eyes in our suite. I can barely see out of them, but I’m distraught about everything that’s happened. With the window open, I stare out of it. I’ve lost so much, and I don’t know if I can handle losing anything else in my life. My father’s not here to hold me. He would make everything all right.

Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if he were here. I hold my knees up to my chest on the daybed. I can’t bring myself to think about Matteo’s motives in the hotel room. I haven’t even had the time to process it all. I’ve been too lethargic to even deal with it as well. Fuck my life.

A sweet memory of Matteo clapping as I blew out the candles on my fifteenth birthday party appears, making the river of tears stream down my cheeks. I can’t stop them.

How could you do this to me, Matteo? Tears continue piling up, and I let them flow, because I never want to cry over this again. Ever. This is the biggest betrayal in my life, and all because Matteo wanted to sleep with me. Why would he do this? Rocco would be turning over in his grave if he could see.

Sniffling, I think it through some more because Matteo wouldn’t do that, even if he wanted me. He exercises restraint. I’ve seen him do it. He would be the one to coax my father down from the ledge of killing sprees, so it couldn’t be that he wanted me so badly that he would threaten to rape and kill me.

And as the soft breeze through the curtains kisses my skin, a moment of clarity hits, my pulse quickening. The hotel window. Matteo very deliberately opened it wide, and if he didn’t want anyone to know I was in the room with him, why would he do this?

There must have been someone outside recording it. Why? Think Elena. Why would he have that done? Sniffling, I drop my knees down staring out at the Manhattan skyline, smog overrunning it.

Why? How could it be of benefit to film me having sex with him? I let it sink in, running through the possibilities, and the final piece of the puzzle kicks in.

Blackmail. He wanted Nikk to see, and for him to be jealous. Shit. I knock on the side of my head with my fist. Think more, Elena. How could this benefit him? What would he stand to gain?

There has to be a reason. It can’t just be about sex. No. There’s more. Has to be. I stand up, my legs tingling from sitting too long. As I work it out, the blood rushes straight from my head to my feet.

He would stand to take over the Sicilian Mafia. That’s what he would stand to gain.

Fuck!

I have to get to him before Matteo does. Loud thumping in my head sounds off as I think about the quickest route. I grab my car keys and head down the stairs, but the sound of an engine stops me in my tracks.

“Fuck no, no, no!” I pant, the darkly surreal moment playing out as Nikk strolls towards the front door purposefully.

Scrambling, I rake a nervous hand through my long hair. Does he know already? Maybe he doesn’t and I’ve still got time to tell him the truth.

I knew I should have told him earlier….

The doorknob rattles as I struggle to open it, and it’s as if my heart’s about to pop out of my chest when I finally do. He’s wearing an unusual expression on his face, and tiny beads of sweat line my forehead as I try to decipher it.

There’s no cute amusement on his face like normal, no—this is a face I haven’t been privy to before. This face is one of intensity, and if I touch him, I fear he’ll combust into red-hot flames.

His face holds a graveness to it, and as his eyes burn a hole into mine, I travel back to his words. “I will kill you.” And from the expression on his face, I know my destined fate.

“L’vitsa. You thought you could get away with it. Are you really that fucking dumb?” Nikk asks, his lip curling up into a rabid dog smile.

“Nikk! Please, I wanted to tell you what’s going on. I’ve been waiting—” I plead, but within microseconds Nikk’s large hand is closed around my windpipe, squeezing as I fear him choking me too death.

He walks me back to the closest wall as I struggle to gather enough air to breathe. Tapping on his hand desperately and flailing, I try to peel his fingers back, but he’s too damn strong.

“Nikk!” I manage to squeal as he slams my back hard against the wall. It cracks in several places, but I have nothing else to think about other than how I’m going to survive this situation. He lets me go, his eyes scarily devoid of any emotion. He’s gearing himself up to kill. Sobbing, I hold my neck—it’s throbbing, but I have to get my words out. “Nikk, it’s Bogdan. He-he’s,” I say breathily before he cuts me off, his nose connecting to mine.

“I’m going to do you the honor of killing you nice and slow. We can even make it multiple choice and you can pick what death you prefer.” His face is twisted, and this is another Nikk I’m speaking too. Not the one I’ve come to know.

This is the killer. The Bratva.

“Nikk, no you’ve got it wrong. Matteo set things up! He opened the window. They’re working together.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he bellows, pressing his eyes shut, slamming his palm against the wall beside me. I flinch, thinking he’s going to hit me, but he doesn’t. “I don’t want to hear your fucked-up lies. I will kill every one of your family members before I kill you. You’re giving me excuses.”

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