Page 161 of Bound By Revenge

Vladmir had strict orders to get A.J. and me straight to the penthouse. Even before dealing with Dmitri, Nik made sure I was out of there.

I didn’t go without a fight. The thought of leaving him behind felt unbearable, like my chest was caving in on itself. I begged, argued, even tried to dig my heels in, but he wouldn’t hear it. He promised—at least a dozen times—that he wasn’t in danger, thateverything was under control. He said he wouldn’t be able to think straight until he knew I was safe, and he swore the sooner I listened, the sooner he’d come back to me.

In the end, I gave in—I had no choice.

When we got to the penthouse, A.J. insisted on a tour. I wasn’t in the mood, but I went along, grateful for the distraction. Sheoohedandaahedat everything—the sleek furniture, the breathtaking view, the sheer ridiculous luxury of it all.

When we reached the guest suite, she declared she needed a soak in the jacuzzi and shooed me away with strict instructions not to bother her for at least twelve hours.

I wasn’t far behind her. After everything—being kidnapped (again), scrambling to rescue Nik, witnessing a very bloody murder—I felt grimy down to my soul. A long, hot shower was exactly what I needed.

Now, freshly showered and wrapped in Nik’s oversized bathrobe, I sit on the edge of his bed. Restless. Waiting. Worry gnaws at me, my thoughts racing with every terrible possibility. As the hours drag on, my mind refuses to quiet, conjuring every worst-case scenario as I anxiously wait for the sound of his return.

And then, finally, I hear him.

His voice carries through the door, low and unmistakably his. The tension in my chest snaps like a rubber band, relief crashing over me like a wave—so hard and fast I feel light-headed. I grip the edge of the bed to steady myself.

He’s alive. He’s safe.He’s here.

His footsteps stop just outside the door. My breath catches, and a nervous laugh bubbles in my chest. Butterflies swarm in my stomach. Even after everything we’ve been through, he still does this to me.

The door creaks open, and he steps inside without a word.

One look at him, and my mind goes blank—nothing but pure static. My earlier worries and nerves evaporate, replaced by yearning, then giddiness, and finally an undeniable need to be in his arms.

I drink him in—so tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome. My heart races, thundering against my ribs. When his eyes meet mine, I know it: If I don’t touch him in the next heartbeat, I might actually lose my mind.

Then he sighs audibly, his broad shoulders visibly softening, tension draining from his frame. His gaze rakes over me, taking me in from head to toe with a raw intensity that makes my knees weak. Every emotion is written plainly on his face, but he doesn’t seem to care.

A bit clumsily—and completely desperately—I run to him. Without hesitation, he opens his arms, and I leap into them, wrapping myself around him like he might disappear if I don’t hold on tight. He staggers back a step, his arms locking around me so tightly I can hardly breathe

“I missed you,” I whisper, my lips brushing his ear.

At first, I think he’ll tease me about how it’s only been a couple of hours. Instead, his voice is thick with emotion as he says, “I missed you more.”

The sincerity in his words makes my breath hitch. Everything I’ve been holding back, everything I thought I’d never have the chance to tell him, rushes to the surface and I can't wait any longer. I gasp, pushing against his chest, and though he’s clearly reluctant, he sets me down. His hands linger at my waist, his grip firm, like he’s not quite ready to let me go.

“I need to tell you something,” I say, my voice trembling.

His shoulders stiffen, and a shadow crosses his face. “All right,” he says cautiously. “Lay it on me. What is it?”

The words spill out in a rush. “We’ve wasted so much time letting stupid fears and meaningless worries keep us apart. It’sridiculous. After everything we’ve been through, we deserve to be happy—madly, embarrassingly, ridiculously happy. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m all in if you are.”

“Hang on.” His voice is unsteady, his brows furrowing. “Are you saying?—”

I cut him off with a small smile. “Listen... I hate feeling powerless, Nik. You know that. And, yeah, my past with blood and violence and all this mob stuff makes things complicated. If I never see another mobster again, it’ll be too soon. But you… you’re the exception.Myexception. I don’t want to hold on to fear anymore. I want to hold on to you. Forever.” I pause, searching his face. “If you feel the same?—”

“I do,” he says, quick and certain, cutting me off this time.

Relief floods me, and I grin, squeezing his arms. “Great! Then let’s stop wasting time and just… be happy. Leave all this useless emotional baggage behind us.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I’m saying this—shooting myself in the foot like this—but, Kat, do you really mean that? Because, fuck, don’t get me wrong—I really hope you do, but… how? I fucked up. Big time. And then you almost died—because of me.”

I loop my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Nik, I need you. Even if today hadn’t happened and I hadn’t been forced to confront my mortality and yours, I would’ve come back to you.” I smile at him. “Eventually.”

His eyes widen. “You would’ve come back?” he asks slowly, incredulously.

“Of course. I was barely holding it together before Dmitri showed up at my doorstep to talk me into giving you a chance.” I shrug. “But let’s get one thing straight—that doesn’t mean you get to lock me in a tower or browbeat me into giving in to your every whim and dictate. You’re going to have to dial back the bossy control freak thing. In return, I’ll share all my secrets withyou. All of them. I’ll be an open book. Get ready, Nik, because I’m about to give oversharing a whole new meaning.”

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