Page 39 of Nikola

Me: Isn’t it weird that he’s still alive?

Was I the only one to question that a man was able to survive fooling around with Penelope?

Gianna: What is Revelation?

Arianna: You’re too young to even type that word, little sis.

A row of angry-face emojis followed.

Penelope: I wonder if he would consider marrying me before this wedding to Enzo takes place.

Arianna: Doesn’t hurt to ask? Do you have his name?

Penelope: No, and I have no idea how to find out who he is.

Gianna: Draw him and maybe I can help.

Penelope: He had a mask on. Besides, I was too busy withering underneath him between the sheets to study him. I don’t think I would even recognize his voice.

Me:

Amara: Was the man that good between the sheets?

Penelope: Yes. His was magic. I saw .

So many laughing emojis followed, my phone just about exploded.

Gianna: Can someone explain how Penelope got into bed with a masked man?

Anya: It sounds like a scene from an erotica novel.

Penelope: Oh, it was freaky. In a good way. Anyway, I’m no longer a virgin. Fuck you, Enzo Marchetti.

Me: It’s a sad day when we have to resort to sex and marriage with a stranger to escape a man. But as long as the sex was great, it was worth it.

And just as I pressed send, causing a frenzy in the group chat, an idea occurred to me.

In three days, we’d be visiting the Nikolaevs in New Orleans. I’d convince—fine, seduce—Nikola and put a major dent in this marriage contract.

The one,tinyproblem: If Nikola couldn’t even return my texts, how in the ever-loving hell would I get him to have sex with me?

I recalled our last encounter at Revelation and smiled smugly. Oh yes—jealousy.

There was hope for me yet.

14

NIKOLA

The search for The Duchess and the woman who starred in Skye’s nightmares proved fruitless. In fact, the more I searched, the less results it seemed to produce. Almost as if someone were actively erasing any results related to Revelation or Skye’s foster care records as I was looking them up.

It left me feeling frustrated.

Or maybe I was missing Skye more than ever, because I kept catching myself counting down the days to when I’d see her again. It had been twelve days, twelve hours, thirty-three minutes, and forty-one seconds since I’d kissed her. It felt like a goddamned lifetime.

There was a reason I hadn’t gone after Skye sooner, and it had everything to do with Uncle Sasha’s warning and the change I began to notice in her. The hearts in her eyes. Discreet glances. Curiosity.

The little rabbit—zayka—would be up for anything I dished her way. She’d let me use her, devour her. She’d be irrevocably mine, and much like her passion for playing piano, she’d give me her all.