Chapter 11: Chapter Ten

The Pier Killer is believed to be looking during the day, attacking at dusk. —The Seattle Tribune

Nikolai

The woman had no idea what she was doing. It would be so easy to break her—again.

I needed her strong.

And I gave her rules in order to keep things within my control. The worst part was that she saw me as the monster when really in this scenario?

I was as close to a white knight as she was going to get.

The elevator dipped with a groan then opened on the floor just below Maya’s. When the doors slid apart, the scent of bleach burned my nostrils.

It was a familiar smell, one that held memories, heartache, shame—so many emotions that I found myself wanting to hold my breath and close my eyes—but it hadn’t worked all those times before, it certainly wouldn’t work now.

The walk to my door felt lonely.

And being lonely wasn’t a feeling I was accustomed to.

I’d always had my work, I’d had my goals, one of which was most likely damning me to hell at this very moment, but I’d like to think she was one I’d accomplished beautifully.

I’d saved her.

She just wasn’t aware that her prison—was her freedom.

I opened the door leading into my penthouse apartment and walked numbly into the kitchen.

A glass of already poured Canadian whiskey was sitting in a glass on the table with the newspaper next to it.

I had to hand it to her—Jac never missed an evening, even if she was out doing what she did best—she always took care of me.

I never wanted for anything where she was concerned.

Yet a part of me wondered if she used that as a way to keep herself firmly attached to my life—where there was no room for any other female, regardless of how harmless she might be.

“What exactly… are you doing, Nikolai?”

Jac’s voice dripped with disapproval.

“Drinking,” I answered in a clipped tone. “And you?”

“The same.” She chuckled. “Join me.”

I knew where she would be. Sitting at the piano, drink in hand, eyes blurry with emotion.

Grabbing my glass, I made my way over to her and sat quietly, my fingers grazing the ivory keys just briefly before reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Hard evening?”

The hand I wasn’t holding lifted the glass to her lips—it shook violently. “When are they not hard?”

“True.”

“I’m not sure about her.”

And there it was.

“You don’t have to be sure about her. What she does for me has nothing to do with you and the family.”

“You like her,” Jac licked her ruby red lips and set her drink down. “That makes her different.”

“I'm protecting her. There's a difference.”

“And when protecting turns into something more?” She tilted her head and gave a slight smirk, the way the moonlight reflected across her features cast a pale glow, aging her, reminding me yet again how frail she really was.

“What then?”

“Then I set her free.”

Jac leaned her head back and laughed, and the sound chilled me to the bone. “When have you ever been good at setting your favorite things free? Remember that bird when you were small?

“You named him Fred and refused to let him out of his cage, even when we told you it was safe to let him fly around the house.”

I shook my head at the memory. I'd been so fearful he'd fly away that my fear eventually killed him—or so I believed. He'd never fully matured and died at a young age because of it.

“She isn't a bird,” I finally whispered. “She's a person.”

“Oh.” Jac patted my hand. “So now you actually see people as real people, not your own personal version of Operation?”

Something was off with Jac tonight. I narrowed my eyes. “That's enough.”

Her smile fell, replaced by what looked like anger, before she shrugged and stood. “We're both tired, and the night still isn't finished for me, I'm afraid.”

“Perhaps it should be.” I never told Jac what to do, it wasn't my place, but I knew her lifestyle wore on her—the secret of it wore on us both.

“I have a legacy to continue,” she said in a distant voice. “Perhaps you should start thinking about how you'll continue yours… once I'm gone.”

“You're not dying.” I rolled my eyes and kissed her hand.

“Not yet.” She pulled her hand back and reached for her jacket. “But I will be gone and soon. What will you do then, Nikolai?”

The question had my heart ramming against my chest. I didn't know. I still hadn't made my choice.

I still wasn't sure how I could fulfill my family's legacy while still keeping my own sanity intact.

It seemed I was the sole heir that saw a difference between right and wrong, which was really sick when I thought about it.

If I was the moral compass, what hope did my family really have to begin with? I shuddered inwardly.

“The choice will happen.” Jac gave a knowing nod. “And sooner than you think. Maybe a distraction is good.” She pointed toward the ceiling. “But something tells me she's hands-off, am I right?”

“They always are.” I hired nursing students for three months tops, paid them, swore them to secrecy, and let them go.

Maya wasn't a nursing student, and I hadn't hired her for the reasons I'd hired all the others. It was simply convenient that I could kill two birds with one stone.

“But she's different, because you wish it wasn't the case.”

“Goodnight, Jac,” I ignored her barb even though it still managed to sneak in between my ribs, hitting its mark quite well.

Dismissed, she gave a quick nod and walked toward the door. “Careful Nikolai, I've never lost you to something as silly as emotion before—and your colors, they're showing.”

“I bleed like everyone else.”

Jac held open the door and called back. “More's the pity.”

Once silence once again reigned in my apartment, I moved to my couch and looked around my apartment.

It was decorated in deep purples and blacks. I had a fascination with dark colors, maybe because it was the only thing that brought me comfort, knowing that the outside was just as dark as my insides.

It was the only peace I seemed to find.

White reminded me of what I didn't have.

Purity, innocence, and a bright-eyed Russian princess who'd stop at nothing to tempt me beyond my abilities.

Her room was white for a reason.

It was a reminder.

~Thou shall not touch.~

Because if I did—she wouldn't live past the first caress.

I refused to tempt fate twice.

And this time.

It would be my fault.