Chapter 5 5

CHAPTER FIVE

NIKOLAI.

Pain explodes all over my jaw, and I stagger backwards.

The crowd booes, and I smile, wiping the blood from my mouth.

My head is not in the game tonight. I have been thinking about Clark. He shouldn’t have kissed me. I should have killed him. I should have dealt with him once and for all, but I didn’t, so he hangs over my head like a huge problem. My body still knows him, but my body also remembers the cold.

“Come on!” Big Saul, my opponent, jumps, smiling widely.

He’s huge, muscular, and so fucking fat. It comes in handy, though. I’ve wanted to fight him for months now, but I’ve been too busy to do that. I probably should have had a clearer mind before jumping into the pit.

He rushes at me, and I dodge his punches.

His presence is heavy, which gives him away.

I slip past him and punch the back of his head hard.

He growls and slams his hand on my chest. I ignore the ache, shake my head, and force myself to focus. Everyone is watching. I cannot lose. Yet, I cannot stop thinking about Clark. Stupid Clark. I should have the upper hand, but he’s in my head.

As a child, I didn’t have the upper hand either. There’s something about Clark that makes me surrender. We started as friends. I always teased him for his big nerdy glasses, and he teased me for being so lanky. I’m not lanky anymore, and my dick is bigger.

We danced around each other for two years. Then, we turned fifteen and gave in. We dated for four years after that. The best four years of my life, quickly followed by the worst ten years of my life.

Big Saul comes at me, and I’m too slow to react.

He punches me hard in the face, and my lips split immediately.

I stop and bend my head low. The crowd is silent, wondering if I’m going to pull out a gun and kill him. I can. I can do anything I want. I own every fucking body here.

I inhale slowly, look up, only to see Clark.

What?

I blink, wondering if I’m concussed, but he’s still there.

He stares at me as if he has never seen me before. His mouth is in a straight line, and he’s obviously very disappointed.

I smile, heart racing, and stand upright.

I rush at Big Saul, swinging hard, controlled movements, and in seconds, he crashes to the ground, knocked out cold.

The crowd goes insane, and they cheer my name loudly. I bask in it, wiping off the blood from my face. I can feel Clark’s gaze burning a hole into my back, but I don’t care. I want him to see me, to see what I have become in his absence, what he has made me into.

He pushes his way to the front and yells, “Come here.”

The crowd falls silent immediately, and I raise my brow in surprise. Is he commanding me? In my own territory? Hell must have frozen over.

I ignore him and step out of the box. I walk past him, and he grabs my wrist.

My men step out of the shadows, ready to flow him in seconds.

“Call your dogs off, Nik. We need to talk.” He snaps.

I grin, painfully turned on by his boldness. I nod at the men and walk to my office. He follows me and shuts the door behind him.

“Get to the point. I have a party to attend.” I snap, curious as to why he’s here.

“I didn’t want to leave you. My father made me. He gave me an ultimatum. If I had stayed, he would have killed you.” He blurts out, and I freeze, “What?”

“He knew about us, how we were sneaking around and how much we loved each other. Perhaps he considered it destructive. We were from opposite sides, trapped in a war that was older than we were, and it wouldn’t have ended well, so he stopped it. He knew we wanted to run away. He knew all our plans. He was probably eavesdropping on our conversation. Anyway, he knew, and he made me choose.” He exhales, distraught.

I am going to kill Russo.

Heat expands through my entire body, twisting my belly into knots.

“And you couldn’t have come to me?” I frown.

“There was no time.”

“What the fuck do you want from me, now, Clark? I am not nineteen anymore, and I have no time for this bullshit. Get to the point. You want us to mourn what could have been and smoke? You want me to write a poem about how much you ruined my life?” I slam my hands on the table, as my heart pounded hard enough to give up.

“I want you to marry me.” He cuts in calmly.

My lungs constrict, and my chest caves in hard.

“The certificate you signed doesn’t have Stella’s name on it, just our surnames – a union between Petrov and Russo. Through you and me, we will hold up our end of the bargain, and Stella can be free.” He explains calmly as we’re talking about the weather.

I scoff, nose flaring in irritation, “Why will I want to marry you?”

“Because in another life, you loved me.” His tone softens.

“The Nikolai that loved you died ten years ago. He froze to death and was shattered into pieces. I feel nothing but disgust for you, Clark. I am the Don of the Bratva, and I need a befitting Queen by my side, not a sissy that can be ordered around by his father.” I mock bitterly.

He shakes his head and says, “You should know my father still has every intent to kill you, and it’s happening tonight.”