Chapter 10

Nikolai's pov

"Sir, Imelda just called. She says young miss is sick and hasn't eaten anything since morning," Roman whispered to my ear.

I could feel my body tense up and the grip on my tightened for a moment. Without another word, I stood, my chair sliding back. I tucked the gun away, eyes sweeping across the table one last time.

"This meeting is over," I declared. "Roman, prepare the plane. We leave immediately." I swear I could feel everyone staring at me in confusion.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" My dad's voice rose, laced with anger.

I didn't answer, instead, I threw my files over to Roman. My dad stood up angrily, "Nikolai! This is the most important meeting of the year. You don't just stand up and walk away from this table! How dare you be disrespectful!"

I didn’t even spare him a glance, I straightened my jacket and turned around for the door.

My dad slammed his glass on the table. "You are the don, but you walk out of the table? Are you out of your damn mind? You think leadership is a game?"

I didn't even hear what he had said, I paused at the door, turned around to face him, "I'm very sorry, senior, but this is very important." Then I walked out, Roman close behind, closing the door after. I heard a crash behind but my mind was too occupied to turn back.

The engines of my sleek private jet roared softly as it idled on the runway. I adjusted the cuff of my tailored jacket, a cigar burning lazily between my fingers.

My men were paraded around my private airstrip, but something felt wrong. Two of my men were already at the jet’s stairs, securing the path. Others flanked me as I made my way across the tarmac.

I took another drag of my cigar, "Stay sharp," I whispered to Roman whose hand instinctively hovered near his weapon.

Suddenly I felt a shift from the shadows between the hangars, and black-clad figures emerged, their movements calculated. Within seconds, the open runway was no longer a place of escape but a kill zone.

"Down!" one of my men shouted, but the order was too late. Gunfire erupted, bullets sparking against steel and tearing through flesh. One guard collapsed, crimson blooming across his chest. Another fell with a gurgled cry, his throat opened by a blade.

I didn't flinch, this scene was very familiar, I've encountered it countless times. I tossed the cigar aside and drew my weapon in one swift motion. The first attacker to come within reach barely had time to register the movement before a bullet ripped through his skull, sending him crashing onto the tarmac. Bullets danced across the night, glass shattering as bodies dropped.

At last, silence fell again, broken only by the groans of the dying men on the ground.

I stood in the middle of the carnage, unscathed, and scanned the bodies, my eyes narrowing slightly. These men weren’t street scum. Their formation spoke of a higher hand guiding them. Someone bold enough to strike me on a runway guarded by my own men.

I crouched beside one of the corpses, plucking the mask from his face. His neck was tattooed with an unfamiliar insignia.

Roman stepped forward, trembling slightly. "Boss, who could have dared..."

I cut him off with a raised hand, my gaze still on the corpse at my feet. "It doesn’t matter who sent them," I muttered. "What matters is I won't let him get away with it."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The island greeted me in silence. Imelda froze for a second when she saw me, as though she too had doubted if I would return.

"Where is she?" I asked, eager to see her.

Imelda bowed her head slightly. "Miss Isabella hasn't woken up. She was not well." My jaw clenched. I dismissed Imelda with a wave and made my way to the kitchen.

I opened the refrigerator, pulling out eggs, bread, and the leftover roast. My hands moved with ease, knives flashing as I diced and prepared. As the pan hissed with heat, I caught myself remembering her. Soft. Too soft for this world.

By the time the food was plated, the clock read seven. I ordered the dining room to be set. I wanted everything orderly. If she was going to see me again after a month of absence, it would not be in chaos.

I waited in the far corner of the dining hall, seated in the armchair near the fireplace. I checked my wristwatch, eyes fixed on the ticking seconds.

Three minutes past seven. Then ten seconds more. And then her soft footsteps. She appeared at the doorway, and she looked thinner than the last time I had seen her. Her hair was loosely tied in a pony, her eyes downcast. She moved sluggishly toward the table, like a ghost.

"You’re three minutes and ten seconds late again," I said, my voice cutting through the silence.

She froze in her tracks. Then she turned slowly, eyes scanning until they landed on me. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. She looked at me as though I were a mirage. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something. Then she broke into a run.

Her small frame collided with mine, arms locking desperately around my torso. Her face buried in my chest, her sob breaking against me. She clung to me as though I were her last breath.

I stiffened. My hands hovered above her, unsure. No one had held me this way in years. My instinct screamed to push her back, but her trembling undid me. Slowly, my arms folded around her. One hand on the back of her head, the other wrapping her close to my chest.

"It’s okay, princess. I’m here now," I murmured, my voice softer than I intended.

"Nikolai. You’re here," she whispered. Her voice cracked, each word laced with raw ache. "I’m sorry I pried into your business the other day. I’ve been so worried about you. Please don’t leave me again. I swear I won’t pry into your business again."

She was worried about me. I felt my heart skip a bit before my lips twitched into a brief smile and I forced it away.

I brushed a strand of damp hair from her face. For a fleeting moment, I wanted to tell her that I hadn’t left because of her, but because I had something to attend to, but I decided not to.

"I’ll never leave you again, princess," I said instead. "And if I do, I’ll always come back to you." Her lips quivered into a small smile, only for it to vanish when I added, "Your father left you in my care, remember."

Her stomach growled suddenly, breaking the heavy silence. She buried her face in her hands in embarrassment.

A chuckle escaped my lips before I could stop it. Leaning close, my lips brushed the shell of her ear, my voice a whisper. "Time to eat, princess. The food is getting cold."

She smiled faintly, her innocent face totally unaware of the men I had just crashed, and the storm raging just outside our door.