I waited until I was closed inside the back of that cab to release the torrent of tears. No one had to know I was sobbing like a baby. I didn’t have to be as brave whenever I was alone like this.
And I feel so very alone.
Once the crying started, though, I thought it would ever end.
Blanton’s. Kavalan Single Malt. The Macallan Eighteen-year-old Sherry Oak. Glenfarclas Single Malt. Jefferson’s Seventeen-year-old Presidential Select.
So many names to choose from.
So many bottles to drown myself in.
But this was about punishing myself for my stupidity. For my naiveite.
So, I grabbed The Balvenie Fifty-year-old Single Malt Scotch Whiskey that I’d dropped forty-one thousand dollars on, ripped the motherfucking seal off, and threw it to the floor. Tipping my head back, I committed the ultimate sin and drank straight from the bottle.
What I’d paid for it, what I was saving it for, didn’t matter a good goddamn anymore. In the end, it was just alcohol. It went down the same way, it went to the same place. And it only had one job to do.
Make me fucking forget.
Forget that I’d fallen in love with a liar.
That the only person I’d ever opened myself up to in my life had taken my heart in her delicate hands and choked the very life out of it.
I fell into the leather armchair in front of the flickering fire—the same chair I’d sat in when Lexi’s mouth rode my dick like a sinful dream—phone in one hand, bottle in the other. Lifting the device to my ear and the bottle to my mouth, I drank in long pulls as the dial tone on the number Sergei left me echoed over the line.
No answer.
Voicemail picked up. I was sure the line was secure, but on the off chance it wasn’t, I kept my message as vague as possible. Although, I think I managed to get my point across with my arctic tone.
“Your package is ready for pickup. Personal delivery will cost extra, and I’ll expect one hell of a compensation for the inconvenience. And if you don’t want me to feed information about your recent business ventures to the wrong people, I’d suggest paying me double what I’m owed for all my troubles.”
I hung up, barely stifling a wince at my cold words.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I fought to block out images of Lexi’s face earlier. Her expressions of shock, confusion, and devastation. She was a seriously gifted actress. For a moment, she’d actually made me believe that she had no idea what I was talking about.
But the videos spoke for themselves.
You were played. They ran game on you.
Reaching over to the mahogany box on the end table beside me, I lifted a priceless Rothenberg dagger in my hand—
And drove it into the armrest.
I slashed through the material, dragging the sharp blade through the leather. Over and over again. Then I did the same thing to the other side.
Slash. Drink.
Slash. Drink.
Slash. Drink.
I kept the process up until the bottle was well over halfway gone, my head started to spin, and the slashes turned into blurry lines.
The dagger clattering to the floor was the last thing I heard before I passed out.
“Nico! Wake up, man!”
With great effort, I peeled my heavy eyes open and winced.
Christ. Sleeping like that killed my neck. The knot on my nape was bigger than ever.
I rubbed the throbbing muscles as I straightened myself in the chair, my vision slowly coming into focus.
My entire family stared down at me. My brothers surrounded my chair, while Mom, Gia, Jasmine, and Roxy huddled around the other armchair, where Dad was sitting.
“What the fuck is going on?” My voice was scratchy, my words slightly slurring.
Cris passed me a bottle of water as Ace said, “We were wrong about Sergei Kozlov.”
I frowned and emptied the bottle in two gulps. “What are you talking about?”
Ace placed his laptop down on the end table, turning it around to face me. “Sergei’s not the one who’s been taking payments from Esposito. And he’s not the one who broke him out of prison.”
It was taking me longer to register what he was saying. Everything was still pretty fuzzy. “So, you’re saying the Russians aren’t the ones partnering with Raphael?”
“Oh, it’s the Russians all right,” Luka mused.
“Just not the Russians we thought,” Rome added in a grave voice.
Ace must have caught them up on everything regarding the footage of Lexi and Dimitri. And clearly, everyone but