His Wicked Temptation

Chapter Twenty-One

✈︎

vers l'infini et au-delà
(m.) to infinity and beyond

ROSABELLE

"Who are you, Emi?"

The man who was making me breakfast looked up at me through his messy, wet hair. I tried hard not to distract myself because of the magnificent view in front of me; bare chest, hot biceps, and chiseled abs, all covered in tattoos. The only piece of clothing on his body was the khakis he wore, which hung low on his hips.

"I'm Emiliano Nikolayev," he replied calmly, seemingly unbothered by my question.

Everything clicked inside me today. While I was in the shower, Emi's true nature seemed to reassert itself in my mind, and I connected all the dots.

From how he got access to the club even my dad failed to get, how he was able to kidnap me from right under my dad's nose to why he didn't want to take me to his workplace, the Hell's Angels Organization, which is owned by none other than the Bratvas. And last but not least, how coincidental it was that I found him at the airport last night.

As if he had been waiting for my arrival.

As if he knew the plane would return.

"Who are you, Emiliano Nikolayev?" I wanted the truth from him, no matter what it was.

I'd accept whoever he was.

I'd accept if he's a Bratva-

"I'm a Bratva."

I was shocked. I knew his words would surprise me, but I couldn't help becoming speechless.

However, a pang of hurt hit my insides. I felt... betrayed.

"You played games with me," I found my voice after a while, and whispered, my body still on the ground.

"Nyet," Emi's response was immediate, as if he anticipated my words. "I don't play games, Belle."

"You lied to me!"

"I did not. I own clubs in Moscow, and I am a businessman. Nothing was a lie," he protested, and I insisted in response. "You hid your identity."

He let out a dark chuckle this time, the knife falling from his hand as he was cutting vegetables. Then he looked at me again. "You never asked for it."

"I never imagined that you'd be a Bratva!"

I screamed, my tears burning in my eyes. It was pathetic, I know, to cry while you're angry and shouting at someone.

It's almost embarrassing, but I didn't care.

"So what if I'm one?" He suddenly asked, taking me off guard as he took long steps towards me until he stood before me like a man surrounded by vainglory. "Do I look like some inhuman being now that I've turned out to be a person you least expected, Belle?"

I could almost feel the pain in his tone, in fact, it was more severe than mine.

"You and I both know it's not about that, Emi," I'd never see him less, even if he was the destroyer of the world. I'd follow this man to hell and beyond if need be, but I wouldn't follow something that didn't start with honesty.

"It's about our family. We could never be together. It's impossible. My dad would've never agreed to me being with a Russian man in the first place. And now it seems that the last bit of hope I had about convincing dad is also in vain," I looked up at him tearfully, "We're not supposed to be like this, Emi."