Page 64 of Bratva King's Secret Twins

Kelsey crawls up behind the twins, noogieing Gio and kissing Mia on the cheek. Kelsey bats her eyelashes in the camera and uses a baby voice that sounds very close to Gio’s. “Yeah, Mommy, when are you coming home?”

“Very soon, babies,” I coo, an unexpected gust of laughter leaving my lips as I play along.

Guilt twists and tightens in my chest; the weight of my secrets gets heavier by the minute and threatens to crush me the more I gaze at their faces. Mia’s tousled dirty blonde locks frame her face in these wild, loose curls that remind me of Nik early in the morning when no one is paying attention. And Gio’s piercing oceanic eyes seem to hold the entire world in them, just like his father’s. It’s as if you can drown in him, or float to the heavens.

Nausea rises in my throat because despite my children never meeting their father, they possess so much of him to the point that I can’t help but feel guilt the more I realize I am the only thing keeping them away from him. Mason is a threat, sure, but I could have told Nik before someone else did, and now he hates me. Now, I am sitting in this room waiting for him to scream at me, because what else could have him not talk to me for going on 13 hours now, besides that he knows and he is trying not to hate me.

A knock at the door jolts me out of my thoughts and I brighten my smile as I look at my children and Kelsey onemore time. “I love you and I will see you all very soon, my loves.”

They all say “Love you, bye”, in unison, waving frantically in the camera as I hang up. The knocking increases and my back is bone straight as I look at the pale door, prepared to meet my fate.

I clear my throat, yet my voice comes out broken and shaky as I say, “Come in.”

The door opens, revealing a disheveled Nikolai. His hair is no longer in his professional slick back with a stubborn curl on his forehead; rather it is a mess, thrown about on his head like he just got into a fight. He is still wearing the clothes from last night, his black button up wrinkled and untucked with buttons missing. His jacket is tossed over his shoulders, and he has a gray filter over his face that almost makes him look sickly.

When he enters the room at first, he doesn't speak. It doesn’t even look like he breathes. Instead, he just stares at me, his eyes roaming over my body from head to toe as if he was scared he wasn't going to see me again. I take a cautious step forward, my hand reaching out to touch his face and he flinches from me. His eyes immediately dart to his muddy loafers.

A choked breath gets caught in my chest and the ball of salt rotates in my throat, begging for me to spill my secrets, beg for forgiveness and tell this man that I think I may love him, that I want him. That I need him. I whisper his name, “Nikolai.”

“Kotik,” he responds in a drunken whisper. “Let me just look at you.”

I freeze, my eyes darting back to his, unable to make any sense of the words that just left his mouth or the way he looks at me. I feel like he can see through me, or like he is looking at me forthe first time, but his gaze on my body makes my stomach roll. I want to give him this. I want to allow him to take his fill of me before he kicks me out onto the street, but I can't stand his eyes burning me to a crisp like this. The intense heat of his glare makes me want to itch, scream, cry, but instead I blurt out the only thing I know to say.

“Nik, I love you.” The words escape before I truly know what I'm saying and even then, I keep the word vomit coming. My eyes avoid his widened gaze, and I look at my bare feet, in front of his muddy loafers. “I have for a while, and I know it has taken me so long to say this. But I mean it when I-”

His hands fly over my mouth. He stops my rambling and my eyes widen as they lock on his. And now that he is so close I can see how haunted he looks. He looks like he met with the grim reaper and barely made it out alive.

“Gwen,” he sighs, and a layer of despair spreads across my skin, thick and unmoving. “Please, just stop.”

The tears I’ve been holding onto sizzle and spill down my face, mixing in with the metallic and dirt taste on his palm. “Gwen,” he whispers. “Before you pour your heart out to me, we need to talk.” A choked sob leaves my lips, muffled by his hand, and my tears are falling so hard down my face that his face is blurred. “Because after I tell you about what was in that box, you may not want to deal with me anymore, and I couldn’t blame you.”

My eyebrows knot as he releases my mouth and brings his other hand up to cup my face. His thumbs wipe the tears as they stream down like rivers. My voice comes out as a hiccup as I ask him, “What do you mean?”

His breath is unsteady as he holds my face tighter and he takes a deep breath through his nostrils. “We need to hide you,okay? You can’t work at the club, or travel without bodyguards or me.”

“Wait a minute. I tell you I love you and you lock me away in a fucking tower, are you serious?” I jerk back from him, anger flying through my body like a grenade without a pin. “No, I refuse to let you run my life, Nik.”

“Kotik,” he pleads, and I jerk away from him, shaking my head the tears threatening to fall again.

“No, Nik,” I growl. “Fucking no, I don't care what you found out. You cannot fucking do this to me.”

“Listen to me. You’re not safe,” he snarls, his hand reaching out to me, but I dodge it, wanting all the space between us I can create.

“Bullshit,” I snap. “You know, I thought we were past this. That you knew I was my own person, that you knew that you couldn't keep me locked up.”

“Gwendolyn,” he barks, and I seethe at my full government name, at the way he yells, at the heat in his eyes, and something in me fucking snaps.

“No, I don't care how much I love you. I'm not doing this.” I stare at him with hardened eyes, and I grab my phone off of the floor and growl out my next words. “I'm leaving.”

“No, you're not.” He matches my anger, his eyes wild and crazed. A sharp, hard exhale leaves his lips as he runs his hand roughly through his hair. “If you want to leave, you're going to have to kill me to do so.” I jerk back at his words, not wanting to show him any more weakness than I have, but unwilling to commit such a crime, especially to him. “Now sit down and listen.”

Against my better judgment, my back straightens and I am sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at the open wardrobe door, the law books scattered on the floor, the sun fully rising outside of my window, anywhere but at him.

After a moment, he sighs, and the bed dips and creaks next to me. I feel his body shift as he leans forward and places his elbows on his knees, taking a deep breath before speaking the words that make my stomach drop. “My father wants to kill you.”

I always knew loving Nik would feel like drowning, but this feels like a tidal wave pulling me under. I suck in a sharp breath, but I don’t speak and he continues in a low, hushed voice.

“Yesterday in that lavender box was a piece of my mother.”

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