Page 65 of Stalk Me

My stomach drops. “What did they want?”

“They claimed to be interested in acquiring pieces, but their questions concerned you. When you’d be back, your schedule, that sort of thing.” Tash pauses. “One had a neck tattoo. The other kept his hand inside his jacket.”

Ice slides down my spine. “Did they leave a card?”

“No. But they lingered outside for almost an hour. I had security do a sweep after they left.” Papers rustle on her end. “Should you call Nikolai?”

“No!” The word rips free before I can catch it. I lower my voice, glancing at the door. “I mean, it’s probably nothing. Just some opportunists.”

“Sofia...” Tash’s tone carries a warning.

“If I tell him, he’ll never let me leave this place.” I twist a strand of hair around my finger. “You know how protective he is.”

“Letting someone else take the lead might be exactly right.”

“I can’t live in a gilded cage forever, Tash.” The declaration sounds firm despite my hands trembling. “Just... keep security on high alert. Let me know if they come back.”

“Fine. But if anything else happens, I’m calling him myself.”

After we hang up, I stare at the phone. The smart thing would be to tell Nikolai. He has resources and connections, but the thought of giving him another reason to keep me locked away makes my chest tight.

I delete the call from my phone’s history, hating myself for the deception even as I do it.

The study door slams open. Nikolai fills the doorway, his jaw tight and eyes blazing. My heart stops—I know that look.

“Trying to hide things from me is foolish,malishka.” His voice carries that dangerous silk-over-steel tone. “Especially when it concerns your safety.”

I rise from the desk, anger flaring. “You tapped the gallery phones?”

“Of course I did.” He steps closer, towering over me. “Just like I have eyes on every entrance, exit, and street corner within three blocks. I know exactly what kind of men were asking about you.”

“I can handle?—”

“Handle what?” His hand grips my chin. “Two armed Calabrian soldiers doing reconnaissance? You think your gallery security can stop professional hitmen?”

I jerk away from his touch. “Stop treating me like some porcelain doll that needs to be locked away. I have a business to run.”

“A business that means nothing if you’re dead.”

“Then let me go back with proper security! I won’t hide here while thugs terrorize my staff.” I tilt my face to him, refusing to bow before the dangerous intensity in those winter-gray eyes. “Either let me return to the gallery with whatever protection you deem necessary, or I’ll find my way out.”

His nostrils flare. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fact. I won’t be caged, Nikolai. Not even by you.”

His fingers curl into fists at his sides, knuckles white. The muscle in his jaw ticks as he stalks toward me, backing me against the desk.

“You think I’ll just let you walk out there? Into their crosshairs?” His voice rises with each word. “Not happening.”

“Why are you being so?—”

“Because I can’t lose you!” The words explode from him, raw and ragged.

I freeze, watching as something cracks in his carefully controlled expression. His hands grip the edge of the desk on either side of me, caging me in.

“I watched my father die because he trusted the wrong people,” he says, voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “I was fifteen. They made me watch as they put two bullets in his head.”

My heart squeezes. I reach up, touching his face. “Nikolai...”

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