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

Chapter 16

anotha one

Adriana's POV

"Fetch me an ice-cold vodka martini, will you Lev?"

"Vodka?"

My sunglasses lowered as I gave him a look. The sun was already beating down on my skin and neck from the messy updo, and it was hard enough to see the man. But, as I'd spent the last few days catching sight of that tuft of white-golden hair, I'd gotten to know him and his partner in crime pretty well. That was, as far as looks went.

So here I was, lying on a chaise next to Nikolas's pool, testing his guard's character.

"Is there something wrong with trying to attune myself to Russian culture?"

He crossed two, very muscular arms over his chest. It seemed like casualty was the norm for every other man in this house except for my fiancée. Lev and Vik- his two guards, they'd trod around naked if they had the option. Those white t-shirts did nothing for their taut and ripped skin under, as well as the tattoos. I found myself staring at their backs a second longer as they flew past my sight on the daily, strewn in and out of Nikolas's study.

"Italians go mental for whiskey, do they not?"

"As if that recluse would have any lying around," I muttered under my breath. Then, remembering he was held hostage on pool's granite border, I flashed him a grin. My sweetest, most gullible smile.

"Both sound nice, please and thank you."

He looked at me like I'd gotten sun poisoning, then turned and walked the few meters back through the glass doors into the house.

And maybe if I stayed out here an hour or two longer, I really would break out in hives. Why did he have a pool in the first place, if not to use it?

I stared at the water as it gleamed aqua under the sun. Did he use it to drown people?

I frowned.

No, he wouldn't want death touching any part of his property.

I found myself slipping off the sunglasses and staring at his bedroom window up above, even though all I could see was black tint. Did he really find it amusing to spend all his time working? By working, I meant slashing bodies and filling out paperwork for the one man that somehow held more power over him.

Who, I wondered, could be more static than Nikolas himself?

The Pakhan was his name -I'd gotten that out of the few conversations overheard while eating out of a Ben & Jerry's tub in front of the TV- and from Lev's mouth, it seemed like the stories weren't too far off. The ones said by my uncle and Baba, who used to laugh at the man's properties ransacked with trafficking deals and drug distribution in all its glory. The tales, however, the very much doubted myths, they told far more disturbing pieces. Ones that disregarded humanity and consisted of the Pakhan holding men up by their hair and slitting it clean off their bodies. It wasn't a matter of terror- it was a matter of the necessity. Was being a traitor considered that bad in the Bratva? A matter that undeservedly meant undergoing a final breath without a body to conform in?

My lips parted. If Nikolas were to find out my agenda.. would that label me as a traitor too?

Out came Lev, gripping two tumblers, one golden-brown and already less bitter than the clear one. He set them on the small table with a bowl of strawberries half-empty, and before he could leave, I decided to make one last inquiry.

"Lev."

He turned, the smile on his face barely even a smile- it was almost a line of indifference.

Don't tell me they all morphed into Nikolas at some point in time.