Page 163 of Porcelain Lies

A knot tightens in my chest. The words blur as memories flood back — Gianni’s smug grin, the weight of the black bag in my hand, and the humiliation of what I’d done to secure Nick’s safety. I thought I’d washed my hands of him, that Aleksei’s intervention had severed any remaining ties. Clearly, I was wrong.

I close the laptop abruptly, pushing it away as if it’s burned me. My heart hammers against my ribs, each beat echoing in my ears. I draw my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. The walls of the opulent room seem to close in, the grandeur suffocating rather than comforting.

I can’t believe I was engaged to this guy. What the hell was I thinking?

I should tell him to go screw himself after everything he put me through—especially since he didn’t even give me the full three hundred grand. He gave meother thingsinstead, and it’s only sheer luck that my meeting with Aleksei didn’t go horribly wrong.

I stand abruptly, pacing the length of the room. The plush carpet muffles my footsteps, but it does nothing to quiet my racing mind. I rub my temples, trying to stave off the impending headache. This really is the last thing I need right now. I’m already grappling with enough uncertainty.

I think back to the desperate decision to borrow money from Gianni. Helping Nick seemed to be worth any price at the time. My brother’s terrified eyes, his pleas for help — they left me no choice. But the relief I felt then has morphed into dread. I should have known Gianni won’t simply let this go.

The afternoon drags on.

Each passing minute is weighted with anxiety as I try to come up with a solution. I try to distract myself with books, stretching routines, anything to keep my mind occupied.

As evening approaches, a knock at the door startles me. Before I can answer, Aleksei strides in, his presence commanding as always. He’s dressed casually, but there’s an alertness in his gaze that makes my pulse quicken.

“Your heart rate is elevated,” he notes, pointing at the biomarker device on my wrist. “What’s going on?”

Of course he’d notice. I force a tight smile. “Just feeling a bit… restless.”

He crosses the room, his eyes scanning my face intently. “Restless?” His gaze sharpens. “It’s more than that. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Shit.

I hesitate, biting my lower lip. Part of me wants to unload everything, to let him shoulder this burden for me. But another part resists, clinging to the last shred of autonomy I still have. I’ve always prided myself on being an independent woman who can take care of herself. But now, I don’t even have my job to start chipping away at my debt with monthly installments. I hate the helplessness, the gnawing realization that I’m completely at Aleksei’s mercy.

“Stella,” he says firmly, softening his tone just a fraction. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

His sincerity breaks through my defenses. I take a shaky breath. It’s not like I have a choice. “I received an email today… from Gianni.”

A flicker of emotion — anger, perhaps — passes over his features. “What does he want?”

“He… wants the money. He says I owe him.” I swallow hard. “The cash I borrowed from him to help Nick.”

“The money you brought here that night?” He lifts an eyebrow. “In the bag with the toys in it?”

I feel my cheeks flame. “Yeah,” I whisper.

Aleksei’s jaw tightens. “Did you respond?”

I shake my head quickly. “No. Not yet.”

He nods, processing the information. “Does he know you’re here?”

“No.” I shake my head. “At least, I don’t think so.”

He mutters something under his breath in Russian, the words sounding harsh. Running a hand through his hair, he looks back at me. “You should have told me sooner.”

“I’m telling you now,” I reply softly. “I didn’t want to cause more trouble.”

He steps closer, his gaze intense. “It’s my responsibility to protect you,Zaychik. Gianni won’t bother you again.”

I look up at him, a mix of relief and apprehension swirling within me. “What are you going to do?”

His eyes harden. “I’ll handle it.”

There’s a finality in his tone that sends a shiver through me. Part of me wants to press for details, but the other part isn’t sure I want to know.

---