When two worlds collide Mafia romance

I didn't move from the wall for a long time after Nikolai left. My whole body trembled, my legs too weak to hold me up properly. I slid down slowly until I was sitting on the floor, staring at the door he'd walked through.

I'd slapped him.

I actually slapped him.

The memory burned in my mind, and my stomach twisted with nausea. The way he'd looked at me, cold and sharp, like a predator holding himself back from striking. I was sure I was done for. I'd thought he would grab me, retaliate, do something to remind me why everyone feared him.

But he didn't.

He'd turned and left.

Bella whined softly, padding over to sniff at me, her head tilting in confusion. "I know, sweet girl," I murmured, running a shaky hand over her fur. "I don't know what I was thinking either."

The moment I had enough composure, I bolted to the door, locking the double safety lock with shaking hands. My back pressed against it as I exhaled a shaky breath.

I realised he still had my phone on him. The struggle in the car flashing through my mind.

Sleep didn't come easily. Every time I closed my eyes, everything replayed in sharp detail. His voice, his eyes, the sound of my hand against his cheek.

I did fall sleep at some point, probably closer to the morning than night.

I opened my eyes. Faint sunlight streamed through the window.

Nikolai.

Last night.

No. I couldn't think about him. Not now.

Bella stirred beside me as I stretched, still half-dazed, my oversized t-shirt falling off one shoulder. My hair was a mess, unbrushed and loose, and I didn't have the energy to fix it.

I shuffled to the kitchen, feeding Bella then pulling out bread for toast, trying to focus on something—anything—that wasn't Nikolai. Why had he wanted me to leave with him?

Salazar hadn't been threatening, not really. Persistent, sure. Overly confident, absolutely. But dangerous? I couldn't see it. Not in the way Nikolai kept insisting.

A knock at the door jolted me out of my thoughts.

I froze, my stomach dropping. The knock came again, firm and deliberate.

I walked cautiously to the door, standing on tiptoe to look through the peephole.

Nikolai.

He wore dark jeans and a black shirt that stretched across his shoulders, casual but sharp. His hair was slightly mussed, like he hadn't bothered to smooth it down, and there was a faint shadow along his jawline that made him look even more dangerous.

I stepped back from the door. No way.

"Open up," he said, his voice carrying through the wood. I didn't respond, hugging my body with my arms. I took a small, soundless step backwards, hoping he'd think no one was home.

"I know you're in there, Lena. Open the damn door."

"No," I called back, my voice trembling slightly.

"I have your phone," he said evenly.

"Leave it by the door and go away."

He sighed audibly, the sound heavy with impatience. "Lena, open the door."

"I said no."

The lock clicked, the safety one, too. My breath caught as the door opened.

I stumbled back, startled, as Nikolai stepped inside. "How did you—"

"I have my ways," he said, shutting the door behind him.

I scrambled back further, hugging myself as his eyes raked over me. His gaze lingered on my bare legs, my loose hair, and the oversized shirt that hung on me like a dress. Something flickered in his eyes, something dark and unreadable, but he didn't comment.

"Leave," I said, my voice firmer than I felt.

He ignored me, walking further into the apartment. He dropped my phone casually on the couch, his gaze sweeping the space. His eyes landed briefly on the unmade breakfast on the counter—toast half-buttered, a mug of tea still steaming—and then shifted back to me.

"You need to leave," I said again, grabbing my phone from the couch and stepping back, clutching it to my chest. "Or I'll call the police."

He opened his mouth to respond, but his eyes caught something on the counter—a sleek, black business card.

Salazar's.

His expression darkened as he picked it up, holding it between his fingers like it was something filthy. His eyes narrowed as he turned to me.

"Why the hell do you have his card?"

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's none of your business."

"It's my business when it involves Salazar," he said sharply, his tone cold and dangerous.

I clutched my phone tighter, willing my legs not to shake. "Last chance, Nikolai. Leave, or I'm calling the police."

He stepped forward, and I instinctively backed away.

When I stood as far from him as my small apartment would allow, I fumbled to turn on the phone. He was onto me before I had a chance to call anyone. A few quick strides and he stood right in front of me, snatching the phone out of my hands and throwing it casually across the room, so that it landed on the couch again.

"Why do you have his card?" he asked again, his voice low and cutting.

I glared up at him, my frustration outweighing my fear. "Because he invited me to his yacht party," I snapped, my voice rising. "And maybe I'll go. Because I can. Now, leave."

His expression hardened, and his eyes locked onto mine. "You don't know who you're dealing with."

I crossed my arms, my heart hammering in my chest. "Can't be worse than you," I said quietly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

His lips curved slightly, almost into a smirk. "You think?"

He didn't deny it.

Nikolai moved away from me, casually walking over to the chair near the window and sank into it, his movements calm and deliberate. His gaze was heavy as he watched me.

"Pack your things, Lena," he said smoothly, his tone still holding that dangerous edge. "We need to talk."

I stared at him, frozen. What the hell was he doing now?