by Amy Deason
Shit, you are all kinds of fucked up, Kozlov . . .
~ ~ ~
The hotel was only a stone’s throw away from the monastery and before Cadence knew it, she and Nikolas were together in the sparse but charming bedroom. An intricately woven rug blanketed the wooden floor, the soft green, blue, and white cords forming a pleasing and eye-catching arrangement of flowers similar to the ones in the garden just inside the monastery walls. Wafer-thin comforters of an identical pattern draped simply over each of the twin beds filling the small space. A rustic nightstand, topped with a silver lamp and pale green shade, rested between them.
Remembering the last few times with Nikolas in a bedroom, Cadence shifted her eyes everywhere but at the man by her side. His very presence seemed to fill up the entire room, small as it was, which only made her sudden anxiety worse. Desperate to break up the nearly palpable tension, she stepped to the bed furthest away from Nikolas and peered at the framed picture above it.
Artistically photographed in black and white, the monastery stood tall against the clouded sky. Even in a miniature version, it was still quite impressive.
“Lunch is several hours away,” Nikolas said from behind her. “What would you like to do until then?”
Swallowing the stone in her throat, she turned to face him. “I suppose I’ll use the lotion Brother Garagin is bringing me. Maybe it will take some of the sting out of my skin.”
“Well if you hadn’t tried to scrub every layer of your skin off, it wouldn’t be burning.”
Anger bit at her.
How dare he?
“Well if you hadn’t taken advantage of me, I wouldn’t have tried to scrub you off of my skin,” Cadence countered hotly.
Her reward was a thin, empty smile. It was, she thought, as hollow as his heart.
“I don’t believe it’s considered being ‘taken advantage of’ when you begged for it, princess.”
There was that damn word again. Oh how I hate it.
Her cheeks flamed immediately. He was right. She’d begged for it. Begged for him to slaughter every thought of the man she’d killed in the bathroom. And he had. But at what price?
Dropping onto the bed, she put her head in her hands in frustration. There was no winning against Nikolas. She wasn’t clever or savvy enough. And each time she tried, it only backfired in her face. Best she just came to terms with it now and stopped trying to outwit him.
“You’re right,” she murmured, raising her head to look at him. “I did ask for it. I wish I hadn’t but I did and I can’t do anything about it now. But I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”
His dark eyes widened in disbelief. Perhaps he had been expecting more anger and maybe even a temper tantrum or two but she was tired of this sick game they continued to play. It only frustrated her and drained her of every ounce of energy she possessed. And what did it accomplish? Absolutely nothing.
When this was over, and it would be soon, he would put her on a plane back to the States and disappear from her life forever, never giving her another thought. She only hoped that in time, she could forget him just as easily.
Yeah, right. This guy is going to be with me for a very long time. Besides taking my virginity, which was huge in itself, he is making me feel all kinds of things I don’t want to. Things I didn’t need to. He is going to be someone I will never be able to forget. I am just going to have to learn to live with it.
Knowing the truth was one thing, accepting it was another. And right now, she refused to believe she could never be completely rid of this man. She just had to make it through the next few hours without completely losing her sanity.
Undoing the top button on his shirt, Nikolas ran a hand through his hair before folding himself gracefully onto the bed opposite of her. “I don’t want to fight with you either. It was not supposed to go this way.”
From the moment he’d popped the button loose on his shirt, her eyes had been riveted to the smooth, tanned swatch of skin just below his Adam’s apple. There was something so sensual about the hollow juncture, her fingers nearly itched to touch that part of him. But the weariness in his voice jolted her from the wandering thoughts. Now it was his eyes she studied.
Dark and stormy, they stared back at her, twin black orbs of frustration. She realized this was one of the few times she’d actually seen him appear less than composed. It was both reassuring and terrifying. On one hand, it was nice to know that the man guarding her was in fact, human. But on the other, she would prefer not to see the look of grave acceptance swimming around in those obsidian eyes.
“Yeah well, I guess neither of us are very happy right now are we?” Looking away, she felt the stress from the last few days pile on top of her. It felt as though the world rested solely on her shoulders and she was beginning to tremble underneath the weight.
“Cadence, I . . .”
Whatever he had been about to say was lost at the deep knock resounding on the other side of the door.
Before she could move, Nikolas was up and standing in front of the wooden door, his long fingers wrapped around the handle of a gun at his back.
Fear slammed through her and without thinking, she scrambled onto the bed, pressing her back against the wall.
Oh please, no more. I can’t take any more . . .
Eyes glued to Nikolas’s strong back, she watched as he removed the gun from the hidden holster beneath his blazer and dropped it to his thigh, just out of sight from whomever was on the opposite side of the door. She held her breath as he unlatched the bolt and stepped back, allowing the door to swing open widely.
“Ms. Montgomery?” a gentle voice, thick with a Russian accent, questioned. “I have your lotion.”
Thank God. Brother Garagin.
She released her breath in a silent huff.
Feeling somewhat foolish, she climbed from the bed and walked to the open door. Nikolas had put the gun away and was reaching for a miniature green container being offered to him.
Cadence studied the ceramic jar in Nikolas’s palm. Surely it wasn’t enough. It looked like as if it might hold four tablespoons of lotion. Maybe.
As if reading her mind, Brother Garagin smiled. “I know it doesn’t look like much but it’s more than you’ll need. Very powerful stuff.”
She returned his smile with one of her own. “Thank you.”
Reaching for the jar, she took it from Nikolas, her fingers grazing his. The spark she felt as their skin touched made her heart jolt in her chest but she hid it well. Or so she thought.
Brother Garagin smiled again, wider this time as he looked from her to Nikolas and back again.
Oh, he knows. He can see what I’m trying so hard to hide. But he was a man of God. And he could see things others couldn’t, right? Surely my feelings are not so easy to read?
Embarrassed, she withdrew from the monk’s sight and returned to the bed, holding the jar tightly.
Nikolas stepped into the hallway with Brother Garagin, shutting the door behind him. Through the heavy wooden door, she could hear their muffled conversation. The melodious flow of words were spoken in Russian so she had no hope of understanding them but she listened anyway. The words became softer as the men departed from the hall.
Holy cow! Is he really going to trust me to be by myself?
It sure seemed so.
Uttering a sigh of relief, her shoulders slumped in relaxation. Though she felt he wouldn’t be going far, he was gone for now. Which was good enough because she needed a break from his intensity for a while. Long enough to get her bearings straight again. She wasn’t sure what good it would do though. As soon as he came back, her self-containment would unravel fast.
Just like when she and her dad used to going bowling down at Lone Star Lanes. The bowling alley had been ‘their place’ for several Fri
day nights after her mom had passed away. As soon as the heavy, white pins were put back in order, standing straight and tall, along came a ball, dead set on knocking them down again. The only difference was she had been the one throwing the ball. This time, it was Nikolas who wielded the power. And she was the pins.
Chapter 18
Nikolas groaned.
Brother Garagin hadn’t been able to help him. Or if he was able to, he wouldn’t. No matter how much he stressed the importance of meeting with Bishop Vasilevsky, the young monk refused to interrupt Vasilevsky’s ‘urgent’ business. He wouldn’t even point him in the direction of his chambers.
It looked like he was going to have to wait until Vasilevsky saw fit to see him and Cadence. Which by his count was still an hour or two away.
Despite Brother Garagin’s persistent suggestions, Nikolas was not in any mood for taking a tour or sightseeing. Cadence, on the other hand, might be but he doubted it. Even if she was, it was safer for them both to stay inside the high stone walls of the monastery. Dmitry wasn’t a stupid man and although they may have the jump on him right now, it wouldn’t be long before he figured out where Phillip had gone before getting captured and taken to The Chamber. And when he did, he would come for them. Nikolas hoped to be gone before that happened. But it was out of his hands. He did not like this lack of control.
He should go back to the hotel but he didn’t want to. Although he hated to admit it, the reason was simple enough. Cadence.
Being alone in the bedroom with her unnerved him. Too many indecent thoughts and memories filled his mind, blocking out all common sense. The way she looked, the way she smelled. Hell, even the quiet way she breathed was driving him mad with desire. Little by little, everything about her was taking a toll on him. Chipping away at his resolve. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the compact size of the room only intensified those sensations. With less than five feet between the beds, the tumultuous emotions running through him became worse and he was afraid he might say or do something he would regret.
In fact, he had been well on his way to saying something regrettable before Brother Garagin interrupted him with the delivery of his ‘miracle cream.’ It was a good thing he hadn’t finished what he’d been about to say. It would have been yet another mistake. One that would likely cost him more than he was willing to pay.
So crazy to think that this girl, a nineteen-year-old Texas beauty, was having such an effect on him. So much so that he nearly lost his head back there and apologized.
He was going to tell her he was sorry. Sorry for dragging her around the countryside, for losing control of himself and sleeping with her, for saying things he didn’t mean. And most of all, he’d been about to apologize for hurting her when it was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Jesus, he was becoming a sap . . .
So now instead of going back and saying those things, he was walking the hallways of the monastery, glancing at pictures and sculptures he didn’t really see and just killing time. Waiting for the insane urge to explain things to Cadence to go away.
Shit, how long could it take? He’d already circled this hallway twice.
Looking up, he glanced at a familiar depiction of Jesus and his disciples sitting at a long, wooden table covered with a snowy-white tablecloth and laden with food and drink.
The Last Supper.
He snorted derisively. How fitting.
He might as well be Judas up there. He was sure feeling like a traitor. A traitor to Cadence, a traitor to his organization, a traitor to himself. Hell, he was the scum of the earth right now.
Dropping his eyes from the wall-sized painting, he ran his fingers through his hair and kept walking, kicking himself as he went.
He’d messed this mission up so much it would be a wonder if Charlie ever sent him out on another one. Which might not be a bad thing if she didn’t. If he wasn’t with The Perfect Order anymore, he could . . .
Could what?
Who was he kidding? The Order was all he knew. It was who he was. And like it or not, it was all he would ever be. He couldn’t change now. He was a killer with a withered soul and it was too late for him. But it wasn’t too late for Cadence.
She was still good and pure, despite having killed a man. But the longer she was with him, the more soiled she would become. He couldn’t have that. She deserved better. She was better.
He was halfway around the corner when he stopped in his tracks, his feet frozen to a carpet the color of shattered rubies. Someone was playing the piano. And quite well by the sound of it. The delicate notes drifted toward him, encircling him, before retreating into more hushed and simple tones.
As he stood there listening, it was impossible not to feel a part of himself floating away with the elaborate strands of music.
Daring to move, he edged closer to the open doorway from which the incredible piece was coming. He didn’t want to interrupt the musician but he had to see who was playing such a soul-moving composition.
The entry way was sectioned off by a heavy velvet rope, identical to the ones surrounding much of the artwork within the monastery walls.
Got to hand it to the monks, he thought, they sure know how to play a captivating piece of music.
He stepped as close as he could before risking a peek into the sacred room and promptly felt his mouth go as dry as a sunbaked brick.
Cadence sat before a magnificently restored piano, her fingers flying over the keys in a flurry of motion. Brother Garagin stood close by, his eyes closed in a silent reverie.
From this hidden angle, he was in the perfect position to study Cadence without being seen himself. He couldn’t have taken his eyes off of her even if he wanted to. The midday sun filtered through the stained-glass windows, caressing her dark hair with jewel colored tones of blue, green, and gold. And her face . . .
Though her eyes were closed, she played meticulously, each note executed with precision and skill. But he didn’t need a glimpse into those baby blues to see the joy and the passion she was feeling. It was clearly painted on her face, in the slim lines of her body. She was in her element and she was breathtaking.
But what was the song she was playing?
He was sure he’d heard it before but as he continued to watch her, his mind refused to reveal the answer. The notes escalated dramatically reaching a furious climatic plateau before dropping into softer, ethereal tones.
As the song dwindled and the last note faded into the distance, he stepped away from the door. Leaning his back against the wall, he tilted his head back and with eyes closed, listened to the conversation in the piano room.
“That was wonderful, Ms. Montgomery,” Brother Garagin said. The reverence in his voice was impossible to miss.
In his mind’s eye, Nikolas could see Cadence as she dipped her head demurely, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “Thank you. It was one of my dad’s favorite pieces.”
“‘Sonetto 123 del Petrarca.’ Liszit.”
“Yes!” Cadence exclaimed. “You know it?”
“Of course. It is a beautiful piece. And Liszit, he was much more than a pianist as I’m sure you know.”
“Yes. He was a wonderful humanitarian. He donated so much of his money to charities.”
“Like my dad.”
This last sentence was uttered so softly, Nikolas had to strain his ears to hear it.
“I only met your father once,” Brother Garagin murmured.
“You met my dad?” The curiosity in her voice was evident. Naturally, she was hungry for any information about her father. It was all she had left.
“Yes. It was only for a short amount of time but it was easy to see that he was a good man.” The monk paused. “And that he loved you very much.”
Cadence’s only response was a sniffle.
Shit, Nikolas thought, she was p
robably tearing up. Maybe even crying.
Though he couldn’t see the tears, just the thought of those droplets spilling down her lovely face made his stomach clench. He didn’t want her to cry ever again.
“Thank you,” Cadence whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
The piano bench scraped against the oak floor signaling Cadence rising from the bench.
If I don’t want her to see me here, then it’s time to go.
Pushing away from the wall, Nikolas turned his back, leaving the approaching footsteps behind him.
His decision had been made. He had to get Cadence out of here alive. Suddenly, nothing seemed more important.
~ ~ ~
The peace she’d felt while playing the piano began to ebb the moment her fingers left the smooth ivory keys. As she stepped foot into the hallway, it disappeared altogether and the stress of the last several days crashed back onto her shoulders. Her dad was dead and gone, she was thousands of miles from home, she’d killed one man and slept with another. One that wanted nothing more to do with her.
God, how could I have been so stupid?
Afraid she would start crying again, she dropped her gaze to the floor. She’d managed to keep the tears at bay in the music room but any more talk of her dad might break the damn she’d been trying to keep intact.
Tightlipped and heavyhearted, she followed the monk through the monastery, ignoring everything but the crimson carpet beneath her feet.
She kept trying to see the bright side of things but she was having trouble with the task. As far as she could tell, there was no silver lining on this dark and dismal cloud that not only hung over her but continued to follow her wherever she went.