✈︎

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 even before I uttered them. "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, catching 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."

We're not supposed to be together.

His thumbs came up to wipe the tears away from my face, his expression unreadable as he looked down at me. However, I could see the same yearning there, the same emotions I felt for him.

"Don't you cry, Belle. I can't see you cry," he said, wiping away the tears that fell more and more, until he let me rest my head on his chest, my own type of comforter.

"I'm so sorry, darlin'. So sorry for hiding my identity," his soothing whispers reached my ears like a melody.

After moments had passed I calmed down, and the tears finally stopped. Then he decided to open his mouth to speak again. "You're such a baby," I knew he said it to lighten up the atmosphere, and I couldn't help but smile.

I hit his chest and mumbled a "Shut up," when he chuckled, his chin resting on my head as he gave a gentle tug on my hair.

"I own some land in Sicily," then he started, "I can easily change my identity and become a part of the Italian mafia. Or maybe a local businessman, or maybe some professor in some university, whatever you want-"

"You cannot become a professor," I exclaimed, unable to imagine this man as a teacher. Also, I did feel a twinge of jealousy thinking about how many girls would swoon over him had he chosen such a profession.

"I can become anything you want, Belle," Emi said in return, his tone dead serious, but then scoffed. "And don't insult me. I'm educated enough to become a professor." I laughed at the way he pouted.

And I badly wanted to say, 'now who's the baby here?' But I refused not to rile him up, despite the fact that he's always the one to do that.

"You'd make a good con, Emi. But you can't fool my dad," I sighed, feeling defeated and relieved at the same time. "First of all, I am a good con, Belle. And second of all, fooling your dad might not be easy, but it's not impossible either."

I felt lightheaded, but not completely relieved.

If Emi was willing to try, I was willing to try harder.

"You know that you're crazy, right?"

"Only for you, darlin', and we'll go through this together. Don't you worry about it."

He winked before taking me along with him toward the kitchen, trying to make me less worried by joking about everything he could, and making the best food as well.

Hey, who wouldn't be willing to marry a man who can cook for you, especially when you know nothing about cooking?

Probably a woman who had lost some brain cells.

And don't get me started; he promised to take me to the best dinner as an apology for hiding his identity.

Though I only gave an empty smile to the suggestion because I had other plans in mind.

Dates could wait, but I couldn't wait to make Emi mine.

✈︎

"Umm, Emi?" He turned to look down at me when I asked from behind. He was leaving my villa for now, saying that he'll return by tonight after taking care of some works. "Are you going to leave like this?"

I looked up and down at his shirtless figure, both confused and a little... distracted.

He raised an eyebrow at that, shooting me an unamused glare. Then it was he who checked my whole appearance, turning me more confused.

Only then did I realize the hint he was giving me.

I blushed hard from the realization that I was wearing his shirt. I turned my gaze down, feeling extremely ashamed. "W- wait, I'll change the clothes and return your shirt-"

"No need for that, Belle," my words were cut off by his deep tone next to my ear. Startled, I looked up only to find him inches away from touching my face. His gaze hummed with darkness as it captured mine in a maze of oblivion. "I've got a spare shirt in my car, don't worry."

It took me a moment to find my voice. "I see," I cleared my dry throat in order to sound more composed, and he smirked slightly at that. "Any more questions, Belle?"

I shook my head in response, and he turned to leave again. Before opening the door, he looked back at me once more, sending a wink my way before saying, "You look sexy in my clothes, by the way."

Oh my God.

As he walked out the door, I couldn't help but smile, feeling a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

I was ready to embark on this journey with Emiliano Nikolayev, the man who had captured not only my heart but my very soul.

But first, I had to do something.

_____