Heart of Stone - Stone and Fire #1 [17+] (REWRITING)

Chapter 4

Adriana's POV

"You think he's capable of being a family man?" Layla pops a piece of popcorn in her mouth and snuggles under my blanket. A paused melodrama fills the screen of the TV in my room, the familiar depiction of Francesca and her two-timing cheat of a boyfriend facing off in what would probably turn out to be a night of anger-fueled sex.

My jaw turns at lightning speed. "Nikolas Volkov, a family man?" Amusement tears through my scoff, and I take a sip of mamma's Merlot. Her stock in the basement cellar was more than filled, she wouldn't bat an eye at the disappearance of just one bottle. "I'd rather call him a bachelor with nothing but stains on his record."

"Well, what did you expect? He is, like, the most villain-edged man to exist. Have you seen that hair? He belongs on Vogue's murder edition catalogue."

I tilt my head, imagining him on the cover of a magazine. The hair.. the eyes.. it would have women rushing to the multi-millionaire company's doors just to catch a glimpse of him. "You know what.." I squint at the ceiling. "I totally see it."

"So? Would marrying him really be that bad?" Hesitation sprawled through my bones. It was evening, and my time was running out. I'd called Layla over to stall, but I knew the moment she left Papa would have me in his study not a second after her Audi drove off. Maybe I could just.. keep her here?

"Yes, Lay, it would." My lips remain parted, as if about to describe why, but nothing comes out.

I un-pause the drama to fill the silence, and then continue popping kernels into my mouth, unease filling the pits of my stomach instead of warm, buttered goodness.

I feel Layla's gaze pierce the side of my face every few seconds, until it becomes overbearing. She grabs the remote and presses pause again.

"What is it?" I look at her, turning my body so my knees graze hers. A weird feeling pits my stomach.

"I have to tell you something." She scanned my face, and something weird slithered into my veins.

"What? Did you murder someone? Please tell me it's Hugo, it's time the poor man takes his last breath." My attempt to lighten the mood fails, and turns into a rainy cloud the moment she grabs my hand. The smile I'm so good at keeping plastered on falls.

"I was eavesdropping on one of Hugo's phone calls yesterday, while he was in his study. He was talking about Russians- how the Cosa Nostra's stupid for letting them infiltrate us."

The sounds of my clock filled the silence. I waited.

"I heard him talk about Nikolas. It started off normal, he cussed out the man and basically wished death upon him, for whatever stupid grudge he's been holding on from his ancestry." There was a long pause, where I felt like opening my mouth to urger her on- but something in my bones kept me still.

She looked up, eyes sodden. "Hugo also talked about Petrov."

My hand went rigid against hers, an inkling of darkness spreading across my chest. The breath escaping my lips disappeared.

"And? What'd he say?" My voice cracked at the ends, fraying with panic.

Her hand tightened around mine, as if preparing me for her next words.

"That he works beside him. Petrov is Nikolas's right-hand man."

No. I shook my head in accordance with my thoughts. That.. that can't be possible.

Last time I saw him.. he worked as a soldier. Far, far away from the position Nikolas has as part of the two-spies, the group that overlooks all of the Bratva and sends reports to the Pakhan.