the moment Nikolai left the bed. I lay perfectly still, listening to him shuffle around the room as he put his pants on and left.
He was seriously trying to do the “hit it and quit it” on me? Oh, I was going to cut his balls off! Actually, first, I’d suck on them, because he made this deeply masculine groan whenever I did that, and it was the hottest sound I’d ever heard in my life. Then I’d cut his balls off.
And make him eat them.
I was busy planning his death as I shoved my underwear up my legs and my arms through my tank top when I heard his voice, muffled by the door. He was talking to someone.
Ohhh, he left to answer his phone.
I laughed at myself and shook my head. Sometimes, I really did overreact.
Wait a second…who was he talking to at—my eyes sliced to the alarm clock and narrowed suspiciously—4:30 in the morning?
I slinked forward on the tips of my toes and opened the door, peeking my head out. Nikolai was slowly walking up and down the apartment as he spoke to whoever was on the other end of the phone. It was hard for me to follow the conversation since I could only hear his responses, but it was clear he was talking Bratva business.
That ball of anxiety that had started to form in my stomach disappeared. I didn’t know why I automatically went to a negative place when it came to Nikolai. He’d made it clear time and time again that there was never another woman in his life. Infidelity wasn’t his vice.
But I was as jealous and possessive as he was. So, sometimes, my mind went a little crazy with scenarios, no matter how ridiculous they might seem.
When he finished the call, I debated running back to the bed and pretending to be asleep. I wasn’t ready for what happened between us last night to end. We hadn’t spoken about it, about what it meant. I think he was avoiding the conversation because he didn’t want to hear what he knew I would say. That it was just sex. That we weren’t back together. So he didn’t bring it up, and neither did I. We just kept fucking, and fucking and fucking, refusing to talk about it and ruin the moment.
Nikolai turned and the decision to return to bed was taken away from me the moment our gazes collided. My eyes ran down that flawless form, marvelling over every curve and defined line. His body…fuck me. That solid eight-pack. The muscles. He was goddamn fucking perfect. Every single inch of him.
We stared at each other, the silence building between us, showcasing the elephant in the room. The subject we were both trying not to acknowledge.
“Did I wake you?” he asked, tucking his phone away into his grey sweats.
“It’s fine. Who were you talking to?”
“Mikhail. There’s been a development in finding my father.”
“Really? That’s great news. What kind of development?”
Nikolai moved into the kitchen and started opening cupboards in search of food. He told me all about the information they’d uncovered. The email of his father fighting. The games he was suddenly being forced to participate in. His plan to infiltrate this mysterious island under the cover of an alias.
The more he spoke, the more anxious I became. The whole thing sounded incredibly dangerous. It wasn’t that I didn’t have faith in him, or believe in him. I did. But he was going deep into the belly of the beast with no backup. If something went wrong, he had no one to help him.
He slammed the refrigerator shut and turned to face me, hands on his hips. His left pec flexed and I bit my lip. “Tatiana, where is all your food?”
“It’s in there,” I said, taking a seat on the stool in front of the kitchen island.
He exhaled in exasperation and pulled a few items out, holding them up. “Half a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and some ramen noodles is not food.”
“Semantics,” I shrugged. I didn’t want to tell him that I could barely afford food. He’d take it upon himself to rectify the situation. The man had bought me dozens of Louboutin pairs of shoes on the remote chance it would make me happy. If he knew I was struggling to buy food, he’d end up buying me a damn grocery store or something.
“It’s great news about your father,” I said, changing the subject. Then I realised what I said and cringed. “Not the news itself. That isn’t great. I meant the fact that there is news. I know Illayana was freaking out because there was no news of your father anywhere. She thought he was dead. But now you know he’s alive, and that’s—”
Nikolai chuckled softly at my rambling, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he looked at his phone.
“—great,” I finished on an exhale.
“It is.” That smirk was still on his face. “The information about the games was surprising.” His fingers tapped quickly on the screen for a few more minutes before he tucked it back away. “Out of all the possible scenarios I envisioned, that definitely wasn’t one of them.”
“Same. I’ve never even heard of something like it before. I mean, Mikhail has the fight pits. But that’s not to the death. And every fighter in there is there by choice.”
“Me either. But I guess rich people need something exciting to get their blood pumping. When you have the ability to buy anything you want, you get bored pretty quickly.”
“You’re rich,” I pointed out. Did that mean he was bored?
“I have you and I kill people for a living. That’s enough to keep me entertained for a lifetime. And more.”
When I opened my mouth to respond, he gave me a pointed stare that made me snap it closed. He knew what I was going to say and he didn’t want to hear it.
“When will you leave?” I asked, changing the subject again. It was quickly becoming a specialty of mine.
“According to Mikhail, the games are always held in the first week of May.” He started taking out cooking items and laying them out on the bench. Plates, pans, cutting boards, knives. For what, I had no idea. It’s not like he could cook anything with what was in my pantry. “Depending on how early they want their workers there to set up, it could be any time between now and a few weeks.”
A tight pressure squeezed my chest and I rubbed my sternum. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one fucking bit. The odds of something going wrong were too high. All it would take was for someone to recognise him, or someone to dig more into his alias, and he was done for.
Fuck, he and his family where googleable. Did no one fucking think about that? Who came up with this stupid plan? It wasn’t going to work. This plan was going to fail. He was going to get caught. They were going to catch him and kill him—
“You’re spiralling.”
“Of course I’m fucking spiralling,” I hissed, glaring at him. “Nikolai, you and your family are too recognisable for this plan to work. Have you forgotten there are pictures of you guys all over the internet? ‘The rich Russian family who owns Las Vegas’? There was a damn news article done on you guys three fucking days ago. I read it. How-I don’t-this isn’t-”
He spun me around and wedged himself between my legs, grabbing my face with both hands and forcing me to look at him. “Tati, breathe. Relax and breathe.”
My body tingled at his touch but I ignored it. “I’m breathing, you idiot,” I said, slapping his hands away. He chuckled deeply, not the least bit deterred. He stayed exactly where he was, unbearably close, and clutched the island bench behind me on either side of my body. Caging me in and giving me absolutely nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. He was so close, I could feel his breath fan out over my face. Smell that intoxicating scent that was all man. All Nikolai.
“YA tsenyu, chto ty bespokoish’sya za menya, lyubimaya. No tebe ne sleduyet etogo delat’.” I appreciate that you’re worried for me, love. But you shouldn’t be, he whispered softly.
I swallowed thickly, staring at his lips. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. “YA ne dolzhen?” I shouldn’t?
“Nyet.” No. He tilted his head to the side, watching me with every shred of his focus. “Because there’s nothing in this world that could keep me from you. There’s no obstacle I wouldn’t climb. No task I wouldn’t complete. No person I wouldn’t kill to get back to you. You, my beautiful Tatiana, are the centre of my universe.” He placed the softest kiss on my lips. “Moye vse.” My everything.
Well…shit. My heart fucking swooned. This man had rendered me completely and utterly speechless (a feat not easily accomplished). It wasn’t just his words. It was also the sincerity in which he spoke them. There was no doubt in my mind that he meant every single word, and a little bit more of my heart healed, another crack from our past just fading away.
There was a knock at the door and I breathed out a small sigh of relief. I had no idea what to say back to that. I mean, what did you say to someone who just poured out their entire fucking soul to you?
Nothing I could think of seemed good enough, so I used the person knocking on my front door as the perfect excuse to deflect.
“I should probably get that,” I breathed out, licking my lips. Was it hot in there? It felt hot in there.
He grinned and I swear my heart fucking stopped. “Yes. You should.” But he didn’t move. He just continued to give me that wide, cheshire grin, all sexy and shit.
I was going to kill him if he didn’t stop looking at me like that. It made it impossible for me to think. When the knocking persisted, I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him back. He let me, the grin still plastered firmly on his face.
When I opened the front door, there were four men standing there, all with several big bags in their hands.
“Nikolai Volkov?” the guy in the middle asked.
“Uh, he’s in there,” I pointed over my shoulder.
The guy nodded. “This way fellas.” He walked straight past me and into the apartment, the other men following suit.
“Hey!” I was about to go all Xena on their asses, but Nikolai spoke, his words making me pause.
“Good. You’re here.”
I frowned. What the fuck is going on?
All of the bags were sitting on the bench when I rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen. Ten in total.
“You got here quick,” Nikolai commented as he plucked several hundred dollar bills from his wallet.
“With what you paid, it was pretty much guaranteed.”
Nikolai grunted, “For your efficiency.” He handed the men three bills each.
They fell over themselves in gratitude. “Thank you, Mr Volkov! Thank you! If you ever need anything else, we’re your guys!”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
After the men left, he began unpacking the bags.
“Really, Nikolai?” I placed my hands on my hips. “You bought groceries?”
“Don’t act all surprised. We both know you’re not.”
“When did you even—” then I remembered he’d been playing around on his phone shortly after discovering I had shit all in my fridge. “Oh, you’re sneaky.”
I was going to tell him off for it, but honestly, what would be the point? Nikolai was the type who, if we were both dying of thirst in the desert, he’d force the last of the water down my throat instead of sharing it. Anything I said would go in one ear and out the other.
“You need to stop doing shit for me,” I said anyway, moving to help put the food away.
“I’d rather die,” he said with complete seriousness.
I rolled my eyes. “Kind of dramatic, but okay.”
Once we were finished, he used the cooking equipment he’d taken out earlier to begin making breakfast. Which was fine with me, because I couldn’t cook to save my life.
“Cheese and tomato omelette still your favourite?” he asked, cracking some eggs.
“Mm-hmm,” I answered idly, focusing on my sketchpad. I’d gone and grabbed it when he started cooking. I was determined to finish the design I’d thought of as quickly as I could so it could be made in time.
“What are you working on so hard over there?” He poured the eggs into a sizzling hot frying pan.
“I’m designing you a suit.”
“A suit?” he frowned. “Why?”
“For our wedding.”
“What?!” he dropped the bowl in his hands in shock. When I started laughing, he narrowed his eyes. “You’re cruel.”
“I am.” I gave him a big smile. “But that’s why you love me.”
He shook his head and chuckled, bending down to pick up the bowl. “It is. One of them, anyway.”
I winked. “All kidding aside, I’m designing you something I hope will help keep you safe on this suicide mission of yours.”
“I’m intrigued.” He diced up some onions, chives and tomatoes, throwing them into the pan.
“I don’t know if it’s possible yet, but I want to try and make you an outfit completely made out of Kevlar. That way, if something goes wrong, it might buy you enough time to make a run for it and hold out until I can come and save your ass.”
When he didn’t say anything, I glanced up from my sketchpad, pencil frozen in the air. He looked at me with a mixture of surprise and affection, eyes slightly wide. “As much as I appreciate the gesture, Tati, I don’t think I’ll be able to wear it. I’ll most likely be given a uniform of some sort.”
“Then you can wear it under your uniform. I don’t care if it’s a thousand degrees and you’re sweating your balls off. If I can somehow make this work, you’re wearing it. End of discussion.” I highly doubted it would be as effective as a proper Kevlar Bulletproof Vest, but even if it could offer a little resistance, it might mean the difference between life and death. I stared him dead in the eyes. “Promise me.”
He tsked, serving up the food. “Fine, I promise. Here, eat.”
“I’m almost done—”
“No. Now.” He snatched my sketchpad away and set the plate down right in front of me. “Lord knows when you last ate a proper meal.”
“Last night, actually.” Although, I didn’t get to eat the whole thing. He’d gone and pissed me off before I could do that.
He narrowed his eyes, not as pleased with that statement as I would have assumed. He placed a glass of orange juice and a glass of water down next before taking a seat on the empty stool, facing me.
“You’re not going to eat?” I took a bite and had to hold back a moan. So much cheesy goodness.
“I’ll eat after.” He grabbed my stool and yanked me closer in between his legs, his huge, muscular thighs caging me in.
I shrugged and continued eating, not stopping until I finished the whole plate. I pushed it away once I was done. “There. Happy? Can I finish my sketch now?”
“Not yet.” He pushed the glass of orange juice towards me. I rolled my eyes but took a sip, placing it back down. He pushed the glass of water towards me next and I shook my head.
“How much water have you had in the last few days?”
“Tons. At least four bottles,” I said, lying through my teeth. He just stared at me, not believing a single word. “Okay, fine, three bottles.” His fingers tapped on the bench, waiting. “Two,” I amended. He still didn’t move, eyes locked with mine. “Fine! None, okay?”
He nodded, as if he knew that had been the answer all along. He pushed the water towards me again, a silent command to drink it. With a growl, I picked up the glass and swallowed the whole thing in one go before slamming it back down. The smile he gave me afterwards sent my pulse racing.
“Now can I finish my sketch?”
“No.” A gasp flew out of my mouth when he picked me up and plopped my ass down on the island bench, spreading my legs wide. “Now it’s my turn to eat.”
I walked into my apartment a few days later, utterly exhausted. Working a proper job sucked. I’d managed to pick up a few extra shifts, which I was thankful for. It meant I could actually pay for a manicure this week. One I was in desperate need of. I swear, a little bit of my soul died any time I caught a glimpse of my nails. It was the longest I’d ever gone without getting some self care done, and I didn’t fucking like it. It made me irritable.
After our very memorable morning the other day, the one where Nikolai ate my pussy until I came three fucking times, he left and went back to New York. There was a lot he had to prepare for. As much as I wanted him to stay, he had to go. I missed him immensely.
It was funny, I’d been putting so much distance between us for so long that I was almost able to forget how much I missed him. How much I enjoyed just being around him. But after those last few weeks of being constantly surrounded by him, his touches and those heated glances that spoke of a million things, it made it impossible to forget. It physically hurt to be away from him. I felt like a drug addict, desperate for their next hit. We’d been texting and video calling, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
I kicked off my shoes and stretched out my toes on the soft carpet. I was so fucking glad the night was over. I’ll make myself some dinner, take a shower and then curl up in bed with a good book. Yes. Sounded like a plan.
It wasn’t only work that had me so tired. I’d been staying up until 1 a.m. every night, trying to get the Kevlar outfit I had in mind for Nikolai finished so he could take it with him on his mission to rescue his father. I’d finally managed to get it done, but it hadn’t been easy. Trying to sew Kevlar was a fucking bitch. But all that mattered was that it was finished, and if it could offer Nikolai even the tiniest bit of protection, then I was happy. It was already on the way to him, express courier.
I took a step towards the kitchen and froze. The light in the spare bedroom was on. I was entirely sure it wasn’t on when I left this morning. A frown on my face, I moved towards the room and opened the door wider.
My jaw dropped. What in the everloving hell? The entire room had been completely re-done. Gone was the bed, the side tables, the dresser…all replaced with a design studio any fashion major would kill to fucking have. It was even better than the space I had at home.
A sturdy work table was pushed up against the wall with downlights pointed right at it for optimum lighting. Those weren’t there before. I would have noticed. There was a state-of-the-art sewing machine—a MT-KCO1-ZPL SEG Multi Function Silicone Edge Sewing Machine, to be precise—that ran for a whopping $10,000, easy.
Everything was set up with meticulous detail. There was an array of different fabrics hanging on the wall, just ripe for the picking. Two dress mannequins stood either side of the work table. The scissors, pencils, pens and measuring tapes were aligned neatly. It was…my dream design studio space.
I honestly didn’t know how long I stood there, marvelling over what was right in front of me.
After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I whipped out my phone and called the only person in the world who could be responsible for this. He answered on the first ring.
“Good afternoon, love.”
My mouth broke out into a smile. Ever since we’d been back in constant communication, Nikolai had made an active effort not to only answer all of my calls, but answer them immediately. He did the same with my texts, responding straight away. There was even one time when he was sparring with Lukyan that he’d chosen to completely drop his guard and answer my call, resulting in a solid punch to the jaw. I knew that because I’d heard the grunt of pain fly out of his mouth the moment after he accepted.
I was aware of the fact that he was overcompensating. He was trying to prove that no matter the case, he would always be there when I needed him. The emotions it stirred up within me sent me into a tailspin.
“What did you do, Nikolai?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
My eyes narrowed suspiciously. “How many things could I be referring to? What else have you done?”
“Until I have more information, I plead the fifth.” There was a grunt and a Russian curse, but it wasn’t from him. He was probably sparring again.
“The design space, Nikolai.”
“Ah.” So much humor in that one syllable word. ”Do you like it?”
“You know I love it.” I walked around the room, lovingly running my fingers over everything. “But I told you to stop doing things for me.”
“And I told you I’d rather die.” Another grunt. Another curse. “How it was before wasn’t good for your creative mind, Tati, and you know it. How are you meant to become the next Vera Wang, or Donatella Versace, or Christian Dior if you don’t have the space to do your best work?”
I bit my lip. He’d done some research. That was the only way he knew who those people were. Nikolai didn’t give a shit about fashion or what he wore. If it fit, he wore it.
“As much as I love what you’ve done—and I do—this isn’t my apartment, Nikolai. I’m renting it from Arturo and your sister. Who, by the way, still isn’t talking to me. You can’t just—”
“I can,” he cut in. “I already called Arturo and told him what I was going to do. I had all the furniture moved into storage and it will all be returned once you leave.”
The wording was hard not to notice. “I told him,” not “I asked him.” If Arturo had said no, I doubt Nikolai would have listened.
I exhaled and collapsed into the comfortable armchair in the corner of the room. Next to it sat a mini fridge. Which, when I opened it, was filled with all of my favourite drinks and snacks. The man really had thought of everything.
“Honestly, I don’t even know what to say. What you’ve done here, for me, it’s nothing short of amazing. Thank you. It really means a lot.”
“Making you happy makes me happy.”
“Ya byla by schastliva, yesli by ty perestal delat’ chto-to dlya menya.” I’d be happy if you stopped doing things for me.
“Vidimo, togda oba budut neschastny.” I guess we’re both going to be unhappy then. He responded just as quickly. I laughed softly. It was worth a shot.
My phone beeped. I looked at the screen and saw Arturo was trying to call me. Strange.
“I have to go. Thank you again so much for the room. It’s beautiful.”
“Ostavaytes’ v bexopasnosti, do vstrechi.” Be safe. Talk soon.
“Ty tozhe.” You too.
I hung up and accepted Arturo’s incoming call. “Hey. What’s going on?”
“We’re moving on Franco in an hour. You in or out?”
