Page 38 of Tarnished Queen

When he left the house earlier, he mentioned Nikolai letting him know when the Bratva didn’t hate the Greeks anymore. I was still too stunned to comprehend the conversation then. Are Nikolai and this guy friends? That doesn’t compute.

He still doesn’t respond. His expression is icy.

“Does Nikolai know you’re here?” I press. “Because he just rescued my sister from being kidnapped by your friends. I can’t imagine why he’d have you sitting in his kitchen right now.”

The man is a statue. It’s like he can’t hear a word I’m saying.

The longer we stare at each other, the more unease starts to settle beneath my skin. Maybe I was right and Nikolai doesn’t know he’s here. Maybe this man is a traitor. He helped Nikolai earlier, only to turn on him now. He could have broken into the house to kill Nikolai in a surprise attack.

Or maybe he’s here for Elise.

My heart starts to pound against my chest. I have the urge to back out of the room and sprint back to Nikolai.

But no. Running to him for protection will be yet another thing he uses against me to show that I belong to him. That I’m too pathetic and weak to make it on my own. He’ll tell me that I need him. That I belong to him.

So, before I can talk myself out of it, I snatch a butcher’s knife out of the wooden block on the counter and whirl around to face the blond man in front of me.

“Get out of this house right now,” I hiss.

Finally, he reacts. A flicker of surprise moves over his features. Probably because he’s being threatened by a petite woman in an even more petite nightgown who has nothing except a badly wielded kitchen knife to defend herself with.

“I’m aware I look ridiculous, but that won’t stop me from killing you,” I assure him.

The man doesn’t move. But he lets out a long sigh. It’s clear that, to him, I’m an annoyance more than anything else.

I’m thrilled to show him otherwise.

“Fine,” I shrug. “You were warned.”

I lunge across the room, knife first, and charge the invading Greek.

13

NIKOLAI

I don’t hear the scuffle until I’m a few doors down from the kitchen.

I stopped in my office and the library on the way, wondering if Belle was subconsciously aching for a round two in either of our previous haunts. But when I found both places were empty, I moved towards the opposite wing of the house.

And as soon as I hear what sounds like a fight, I remember who I left sitting in the kitchen.

I break into a dead sprint.

Based on the sounds of pans clattering around and grunts, I expect to find Yuri wrestling Christo to the ground or vice versa. Letting Christo into the house was a risk when tensions among my men are still so high. But when I turn the final corner into the kitchen, my vision goes red.

Belle is jockeying around the island in her nightgown. One shoulder is torn at the seam, hanging around her bicep, and the hem is lifted so high on her legs I can see the lace of her underwear from the back.

I can also see that she’s holding a knife.

Christo is standing opposite her, a pocketknife in his hand aimed right at Belle.

“You fucking bastard!” I roar, storming into the kitchen. I don’t stop at the knife block to grab a weapon. I don’t reach for my gun. I don’t need any of that shit.

Instead, I corner Christo against the fridge and lunge at his neck with both hands. I want to feel the life drain from his body for daring to touch my woman.

“Nikolai, wait!” he cries out, shielding his neck with both arms.

I pluck the knife out of his hand and turn it on him. I take advantage of the gap between his forearm and bicep and slide the blade in close towards his neck.

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