Not Just the Boss's Plaything(37)

"Congratulations," she threw at him. "Your pain wins. But a secret is still a-"

"Secrets?" He frowned at her, but then he understood, and the sound he    let out then was far too painful to be a laugh. "She told you about    Stefan."

And it killed him that Alicia smiled then, for all it was a pale shadow    of her usual brightness. That she gave him that kind of gift when he    could see how much she hurt.

"Is that his name?"

"He's not mine," he said harshly. "That's what she told me back there. And it's not a surprise. I wanted to be sure."

"But you wanted him to be yours," Alicia said, reading him as she always    did, and he felt that band around his chest pull so tight it hurt to    breathe, nearly cutting him in half.

"You want to make me a better man than I am," he told her then, losing    his grip on that darkness inside of him. "And I want to believe it more    than you can imagine. But it's a lie."

"Nikolai-"

"The truth is, even if Stefan was my son, he'd be better off without    me." It was almost as if he was angry-as if this was his temper. But he    knew it was worse than that. It was that twisted, charred, leftover    thing she'd coaxed out of its cave. It was what remained of his heart,    and she had to see. She had to know. "I was drunk most of the five  years   I thought I was his father. And now I'm-" He shook his head.  "This."

"You're what?" Her dark eyes were glassy. "Sober?"

He felt that hard and low, like a kick to the gut. He didn't know what    was happening to him, what she'd done. He only knew he had to remove  her   from this-get her to a minimum safe distance where he could never  hurt   her again, not even by mistake.

"Seeing Veronika made things perfectly clear to me," he told her. "All I    will ever do is drag you down until I've stolen everything. Until  I've   ruined you. I can promise you that." He wanted to touch her, but  he   wouldn't. He couldn't risk it. "I would rather be without you than    subject you to this-this sick, twisted horror show."

He was too close to her, so close he could hear that quick, indrawn    breath, so close he could smell that scent of hers that drove him wild,    even now.

He was no better than an animal.

Alicia looked at him for a long moment. "Are you still in love with her?" she asked.

"Do I love her?" Nikolai echoed in disbelief. "What the hell is love, Alicia?"

His voice was too loud. He heard it bouncing back at him from the    polished marble floors, saw Alicia straighten her back as if she needed    to stand tall against it. He hated public scenes and yet he couldn't    stop. He rubbed his hands over his face to keep himself from punching    the hard stone wall. It would only be pain, and it would fade. And he    would still be right here. He would still be him.

"Veronika made me feel numb," he said instead, not realizing the truth    of it until he said it out loud. Something seemed to break open in him    then, some kind of painful knotted box he'd been holding on to for  much   too long. "She was an anesthetic. And I thought that was better  than   being alone." He glared at her. "And she didn't love me either,  if   that's your next question. I was her way out of a dead-end life,  and she   took it."

"I think that however she's capable of it, she does love you," Alicia    argued softly. "Or she wouldn't want so badly to hurt you."

"Yes," he said, his voice grim. "Exactly. That is the kind of love I    inspire. A vile loathing that time only exacerbates. A hatred so great    she needed to hunt you down and take it out on you. Such are my gifts."    He prowled toward Alicia then, not even knowing what he did until  she'd   backed up against one of the marble columns.

But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.                       
       
           



       

"I was told I loved my parents," he said, the words flooding from him,    as dark and harsh as the place they'd lived inside him all this time.    "But I can't remember them, so how would I know? And I love my brother,    if that's what it's called." He looked around, but he didn't see    anything but the past. And the demons who jeered at him from all of    those old, familiar shadows. "Ivan feels a sense of guilt and obligation    to me because he got out first, and I let him feel it because I envy    him for escaping so quickly while I stayed there and rotted. And then I    made it my singular goal to ruin the only happiness he'd ever known."

He'd thought he was empty before, but now he knew. This was even worse.    This was unbearable, and yet he had no choice but to bear it.

"That's a great brotherly love, isn't it?"

"Nikolai," she said thickly, and she'd lost the battle with her tears.    They streaked down her pretty face, each one an accusation, each one    another knife in his side. "You aren't responsible for what happened to    you as a child. With all the work you do, you can't truly believe    otherwise. You survived, Nikolai. That's what matters."

And once again, he wanted to believe her. He wanted to be that man she    was called to defend. He wanted to be anything other than this.

"I've never felt anything like these things I feel for you," he told her    then, raw and harsh, so harsh it hurt him, too, and then she started   to  shake, and that hurt him even more. "That light of yours. The way   you  look at me-the way you see me." He reached out as if to touch her   face,  but dropped his hand back to his side. "I knew it that first   night. I  was happy when you walked into that conference room, and it   terrified  me, because do you know what I do with happy?"

"You do not kill it," she told him fiercely. "You try, and you fail.    Happiness isn't an enemy, Nikolai. You can't beat it up. It won't fight    back, and eventually, if you let it, it wins."

"I will suck you dry, tear you down, take everything until nothing    remains." He moved closer, so outside himself that he was almost glad    that he was so loud, that he was acting like this so she could see with    her own eyes what kind of man he was. "Do I love you, Alicia? Is that    what this is? This charred and twisted thing that will only bring you    pain?"

"I love you," she said quietly. Clearly and distinctly, her eyes on his.    Without a single quaver in her voice. Without so much as a blink.  Then   she shifted, moved closer. "I love you, Nikolai."

Nikolai stilled. Inside and out. And those words hung in him like    stained glass, that light of hers making them glow and shine in a    cascade of colors he'd never known existed before.

He thought he almost hated her for that. He told himself he'd rather not know.

He leaned in until her mouth was close enough to kiss, and his voice    dropped low. Savage. "Why would you do something so appallingly    self-destructive?"

"Because, you idiot," she said calmly, not backing away from him, not    looking even slightly intimidated. "I love you. There's always a risk    when you give someone your heart. They might crush it. But that's no    reason not to do it."

He felt as if he was falling, though he wasn't. He only wished he was.    He leaned toward her, propping his hands on either side of her head as    he had once before, then lowering his forehead until he rested it    against hers.

And for a moment he simply breathed her in, letting his eyes fall shut, letting her scent and her warmth surround him.

He felt her hands come up to hold on to him, digging in at his hips with    that strong grip that had already undone him once before, and he felt  a   long shudder work through him.

"This is the part where you run for cover, Alicia," he whispered    fiercely. "I told you why I couldn't lose control. Now you know."

He heard her sigh. She tipped back her head, then lifted her hands up to    take his face between them. When he opened his eyes, what he saw in   her  gaze made him shake.