His to Steal

Ch. 9: Inferno

Nicolai

I am about to have a full-on tantrum. I realize that's what it is.

When I saw her walk out of her building with this jackass tonight—and dressed like that—it was all I could do to not jump out of my car and beat his ass right there.

But why? I have no right to be jealous. No right to any emotion at all about what she chooses to do with her free time or who she chooses to spend it with.

That he's the one she's chosen to take her out at night while I sit in front of her condo like a borderline creeper should have no effect on me whatsoever.

But now, to see her sitting at dinner with him, in the same goddamn booth...What the fuck? Is this a motherfucking date?

Jebem ti.

I don't know what I'm planning to do when I walk by. Talk to her? Confront him?

Hey dickhead, I know you're involved with some shady shit. What is it? Hard drugs? Illegal weapons? Why don't you just let me take her home and you never talk to her again?

Yeah, that'll work out fabulously for me.

So when she meets my eyes over his shoulder, I just keep fucking walking. Like a damn coward.

I don't even know where I'm going, so I search frantically for the bathroom. Thankfully I'm going in the right direction, so I dip into the hallway, lean against the wall, and close my eyes.

Fuck, Nicolai, what the hell are you doing?

I hear footsteps approaching and as soon as I turn my head to investigate, I come face to face with the girl whose world I've invaded and been dancing around for the last few weeks.

And she is just as beautiful up close as she was on that stage and across Central Park. Actually, if it's possible, she's even more exquisite than just the other day.

Her dark hair is in those waterfall curls that I always loved, the ones that always took her forever to style, but I never minded waiting for because the payoff was so worth it. Her makeup is there, but it's so subtle that all it does is heighten the natural beauty that's there on her bare face from the moment she sleeps to the moment she wakes.

And the purple dress she has on—moj Bože.

They say purple is the color of royalty, but I think God Himself must have spun the silk for this garment. It fits every curve on her body, and the cleavage it gives her is out of this world sexy.

She's stunning.

She's also furious.

"Nicolai Marković. What the hell are you doing here?" she hisses. "Are you following me?"

I lean back against the wall in the stance I was in before and let my eyes travel over every dip and curve on her perfect body until they reach her face.

"It's nice to see you too, Sutton Marie. What a warm welcome for such a long-awaited reunion."

She steps one step closer to me and narrows her eyes. "Cut the shit. What are the odds you'd be here at this random restaurant on the same night as me? When we haven't seen each other in three years?"

I shrug and school my face to go back to the blank, emotionless mask I wear when dealing with the Gospodari.

"I don't know, Sutton, I haven't really worked out the probability. Someone told me to try out this restaurant, and I wanted a steak, so..." I spread my palms and look around. "I'm here. Not really a difficult concept to grasp."