“Since when?”
I shrug. “It’s a new thing. We’re working on it.”
“I saw him eating last night. You guys were all using cutlery.”
“It’s fine with just a few people. Not when there’s a ton. The sound triggers him.”
“Jesus Christ,” he spits. “Sometimes, it feels like he’s getting worse, not better.”
“He’s never going to get better, Niko. You know that already. He’s always going to be just a little bit—”
“Fucked up?”
I glare at him. “Different.”
He sighs. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” He looks at me from the corner of his eyes. “Speaking of fucked up, though, what’s up with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you’ve been really tightly wound the last couple of days. Is there something going on that I should know about?”
I look back over the last couple of days, trying to figure out what he might have noticed. Maybe I’d been a little more aggressive than necessary but we were planning an attack on Sobakin. What the hell did he want from me, though? This is the man who killed our parents, after all.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just focused on getting that motherfucker.” Nikolai frowns, so I add, “Polly’s back at the end of the week for summer. I just have a lot to manage, that’s all.”
Nikolai’s lips purse up but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he nods and gets to his feet. “I’m gonna go get something to eat. I’ll see you tonight for the briefing.”
I wave him out with relief. Lately, it feels like everyone is on my fucking case. I have a Bratva to run, an enemy to take on, a family to protect, and a woman brooding restlessly in my basement. Of course I’m tightly wound.
My eyes veer to the screen that I haven’t turned on in two days. My hands ball into fists and my knuckles go white.
I’ve approached this like an addict trying to get clean. I went cold turkey and stopped looking at the camera, stopped going down to see her. As long as I kept working, that plan was successful. But now, I’m alone, with nothing but my thoughts and my rising blood pressure.
What is she doing right now? Is she pissed? Sad? Frustrated?
There’s nothing like seeing Alyssa all riled up. All that self-consciousness falls by the wayside when something really gets her going.
I walk over to the bar and pour myself a shot. It doesn’t help, so I take another. That doesn’t help, either. What are my other options?
Take a cold shower? Done that.
Hit the gym? Done that, too.
Fuck another woman? I consider that for all of five seconds before my body physically rejects the idea. Quite literally, my erection deflates instantly. But by the time I walk over to the desk and sit down, it’s perking up again simply from the anticipation of seeing Alyssa.
I might need rehab at this point.
The feed starts up but all I can see is black. What the fuck…？ For a moment, I wonder if we’ve been hacked. But when I check the cameras around the rest of the house, everything seems to be working fine. I switch perspective between cameras and I realize that the feed is fine.
We haven’t been hacked into.
Alyssa has found the cameras.
Furious, I’m out of my seat and storming towards the basement, ready to tear her a new one. I’m vaguely aware that I’m a little too happy to have a legitimate reason to go down there. I shove open the door—well, I try to. Oddly, I’m met with resistance.
“Alyssa!” I roar through the two-inch gap.
I push a little harder and I hear the scrape of something heavy on the other side. Has she tried to block it?
Her voice comes from beyond the scraping sound. She sounds relatively calm on the surface, but there’s an edge. “I’d like some privacy, thanks.”
Oh, hell no.
I push my entire weight against the door and it shoves open, upending the armchair that she wedged in place. I suppose she has had a lot of free time down here. Of course, I’m not about to feel sorry for her. I’m here to teach her a goddamn less—
I freeze.
Fuck me.
She’s lying on the bed, bare naked, her hair feathered out over the pristine white sheets. Her head is resting against a raised pillow while her right hand disappears between her legs.
“What are you doing?”
She turns to the side and raises her eyebrows. But she doesn’t stop touching herself; she doesn’t even make an attempt to cover herself up.