Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
Lily
T he knock on my bedroom door came without warning, a sharp reminder that I had no idea what was going on at any given moment. I sat up in bed and looked around. The heavy curtains were barely letting in any light, resulting in an oppressive gloom settling around. It felt fitting. Since moving in, this mansion had felt more like a beautifully crafted prison, designed to dazzle from the outside but suffocate anyone trapped inside.
And trapped was exactly how I felt.
The door opened without me saying a word, and Nikita entered, dressed sharply in his dark suit, as always. His cold eyes assessed me, just as they had during the empty, hollow ceremony that had bound us together. He was emotionless then, and he looked the same now. I couldn't read him, but there was something about the way he stood that put me on edge.
"We need to talk," he said flatly, his voice devoid of warmth or any indication that we were now supposed to be husband and wife. His words were always orders, commands wrapped in cool detachment.
I raised an eyebrow, already feeling a surge of frustration that I didn't bother holding back. "What is it now?"
Nikita stepped further into the room, arms crossed over his chest. "There's a charity gala tonight. We'll be attending together."
Of course. Just another public appearance. A formality in our manufactured marriage. I couldn't help the sarcastic edge that crept into my voice as I replied. "And what exactly do you expect from me at this... gala?"
He ignored the challenge in my tone. "You'll follow my lead. Smile when necessary. Keep your responses brief. These people are powerful. Dangerous. They'll be watching you closely."
I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. "You mean they'll be watching us. Isn't that the point?"
Nikita's gaze hardened slightly. "Yes, they'll be watching us. Which is why you'll need to be convincing. This is about more than just appearances. It's a test."
I exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to throw something. "A test. Wonderful. And what are the rules for your little game?"
He stepped closer, his presence looming. "You stay by my side at all times. You do not wander off, you do not engage with anyone without me nearby. Understood?"
The overbearing control in his voice made my blood boil. Sure, he didn't see me as a partner, but I wasn't even sure he saw me as a person—just another asset in his empire. "Understood," I said tersely, barely holding back my irritation.
Nikita's cold eyes lingered on me, as if searching for any sign of resistance, but I gave him none. Finally, he nodded. "Good. We leave in two hours."
And just like that, he turned on his heel and left the room, his footsteps echoing down the long empty hall. I could feel his presence long after he was gone, wrapping itself around me like the thick darkness of my room.
I spent the next two hours in front of the mirror, preparing myself for the role I was expected to play. The gown I slipped into was stunning, dark copper with a neckline that dipped just low enough to catch attention but still remained classy. It was designed to make me look like the perfect accessory to Nikita—polished, elegant, silent.
As I looked at my reflection, I couldn't help but feel a wave of resentment. This wasn't who I was. I wasn't someone who played by other people's rules and certainly not someone who let a man dictate my every move. But here I was, about to walk into a room full of powerful strangers, expected to act the part of the dutiful wife.
If it would bring me closer to my goal, then so be it.
When Nikita appeared again at my door, his eyes swept over me, lingering just a second too long on my figure before he gave a curt nod.
"Glad to see you don't have to be told to wear the clothes I bought for you," he said, and I caught the brief flicker of approval in his gaze.
I rolled my eyes but bit back the sarcastic retort. Now wasn't the time to pick a fight. I had to keep my wits about me tonight. The more I could learn about the people in Nikita's world, the more information I'd have to quell my nagging doubts.
We rode to the gala in silence. I stared out the window, watching the city blur by, but my mind was elsewhere. My thoughts kept circling back to Nikita, to the way he controlled every aspect of his life—and now mine. I couldn't let him get to me. I couldn't let this marriage stir my emotions, no matter how convincing we had to appear in public.
When we arrived, the grand entrance was lined with high-end cars and flashing lights. Cameras were stationed just outside, capturing the arrivals of New York's elite. I could already feel the weight of the evening pressing down on me, but I straightened my back, lifted my chin, and put on the best smile I could muster.
Nikita's hand found the small of my back as we stepped out of the car, his grip firm and possessive. He guided me into the grand ballroom with ease, his posture confident, his power undeniable. I played my part, keeping my expression poised and polite, but inside, I felt like a storm was brewing.
We hadn't even made it through the first circle of guests when a woman approached us, her smile too bright, her eyes sharp.
"Nikita," she purred, extending her hand. "It's been too long."
Nikita offered a cool smile, shaking her hand briefly before introducing me. "Lily, this is Anya Rostova. She's an old... family friend."
The way he said "family friend" made it clear that Anya was more than just an acquaintance. I felt a flicker of jealousy, though I couldn't explain why. I knew what this marriage was. I knew there was no love between us. But still, the way she looked at him with such familiarity stirred something inside me.
"Lily, what a lovely name," Anya said, her tone sweet but her eyes assessing. "I've heard so much about you."
I forced a smile, ignoring the undercurrent in her words. "Likewise."
The conversation continued, but I found myself only half listening, my eyes scanning the room, taking in the crowd. It was filled with people I didn't know, people who were clearly comfortable in this world of wealth and power. As much as I hated to admit it, I didn't belong here. But I had no choice. I had to play my part.
After a few moments, Nikita excused us from Anya's company and led me deeper into the ballroom. We stopped to speak with more guests, exchanging pleasantries with people I didn't recognize. I smiled and nodded at all the right moments, but I could feel the warmth of Nikita's hand seeping into my back. It was a silent reminder to keep up my end of the bargain, yes. But it also strangely distracting.
It wasn't long before I found myself pulled into a conversation with a group of businessmen, their sharp suits and easy smiles masking the danger that lurked beneath their polished exteriors. I laughed politely at one of their jokes, but inside, I was calculating, watching the way they interacted with Nikita. They were wary of him, though they tried to hide it. He commanded respect wherever he went, and it was clear that these men knew it.
"You're quite the pair," one of the men remarked, glancing between me and Nikita. "You must be very proud."
I smiled, my words coming out smoothly. "Oh, I am."
The man chuckled, his eyes glinting. "Good. It's not easy standing by a man like him. But I'm sure you're more than capable."
I could feel Nikita's gaze on me, but I didn't look at him. Instead, I focused on the group, letting the conversation carry on without missing a beat. The longer I spoke with these men, the more I realized that I was beginning to enjoy myself. Not because I cared about their words, but because I knew that every smile, every laugh, was making Nikita uneasy. I could sense it.
I was playing with fire, and I knew it. But something about making him feel even the slightest bit out of control felt... thrilling.
The conversation with the group of men grew lighter, and I found myself laughing more—perhaps more than I should have. It wasn't that their jokes were particularly funny, but the effect it was having on Nikita was intoxicating. Finally, I was seizing the upper hand, if only briefly. I could feel his grip on my back tighten just slightly, his body tensing beside me. It was a subtle change, but for a man like Nikita, any show of emotion was a crack in his otherwise perfect armor.
One of the men, a charming, silver-haired figure who clearly had too much confidence, leaned in closer to me. His gaze lingered a little too long on my face before trailing down to my dress.
"You have excellent taste," he commented, his voice slick with admiration. "Though I suppose that comes with marrying a man like Nikita. He always did know how to choose... the best."
I smiled politely, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at his compliment. "Thank you," I replied, keeping my tone as neutral as possible. I could feel Nikita watching us, his silence sharp, and for a moment, I wondered how long he would let this go on.
"Tell me, how are you finding married life with such a powerful man?" another one of the businessmen asked, his eyes twinkling with interest. "I imagine it must be... challenging."
I caught the smirk on his lips, his question laced with something more than just polite curiosity. This was a test, just like Nikita had warned me. They were probing, waiting to see if I would stumble, if I would say something that gave them insight into the true nature of our marriage.
I tilted my head slightly, offering them a smile that was just a little too sweet. "It has its moments," I said, my voice calm, steady. "But we're more than capable of handling whatever comes our way."
The group laughed, clearly impressed with my response, but as the sound echoed around me, I felt Nikita's hand move. His fingers pressed more firmly into the small of my back, sending a clear message. The game was over.
Before I could respond to the men's further questions, Nikita stepped forward, his presence commanding the space in a way that made everyone around him fall silent. Without a word, he extended his hand to me.
"Dance with me," he said, his voice low and controlled.
It wasn't a request but a demand wrapped in velvet. I hesitated for a moment, glancing at the men who had been entertaining me, their eyes wide with curiosity. They were watching us closely, waiting to see how I would respond to Nikita's sudden possessiveness.
But there was no choice here. Not really.
I placed my hand in his, allowing him to pull me away from the group and lead me toward the center of the ballroom. The crowd parted for us as we made our way to the dance floor, all eyes now on Nikita and me. I could feel the weight of their stares and caught the whispered conversations that followed us. This was what they had come to see—the powerful Nikita Volkov with his new wife, showing the world that he was still the one on top.
As he pulled me into his arms, his grip firm around my waist, the tension between us snapped into place like a taut wire. The music swelled around us, but it felt distant, irrelevant. All I could focus on was the feel of his hand on my back, the heat of his body pressed against mine—and the storm I knew was coming.
We moved together in silence, the room spinning around us as Nikita led me in a slow, deliberate waltz. I could feel the frustration radiating off him, the way his fingers dug slightly into my waist as if to remind me of the rules.
"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" he asked, his voice low and close to my ear.
I wanted to shrink away from his hot breath fanning my skin—or lean into it, expose more of myself to him. Instead, I glanced up at him, meeting his cold gaze.
"Enjoyed what?" I asked innocently, though we both knew what he meant.
"Laughing with those men. Testing me," he said, his tone sharp. "You think I didn't notice?"
A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips, and I didn't bother to hide it. "I wasn't testing you, Nikita. I was just... mingling, like you asked. It seems like I did my job well."
His jaw tightened, and I could see the flash of irritation in his eyes. "Don't play games with me, Lily. I don't like being made a fool of."
My heart raced, but I refused to let him see how much his words affected me. "I'm not playing games," I said, my voice soft but steady. "But if you don't want people to notice the cracks in your perfect facade, maybe you should stop treating me like a possession."
His grip on my waist tightened slightly, pulling me closer. I could feel his breath against my ear, the heat of his body enveloping me. "You are mine, Lily," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. "And I don't care what those men think. Remember that."
The words sent a shiver down my spine, not just because of the way he said them, but because of the strange, undeniable pull I felt toward him in that moment. It was a pull I had been trying to ignore, but being this close to him, feeling the way his body moved with mine—it was impossible to deny.
The dance continued, and with every step, the pull between us grew stronger. I could feel my defenses slipping, my resolve weakening. There was something about the way Nikita held me, the way he commanded every inch of the space around us. It was dangerous, but it was also thrilling.
I hated that I was drawn to him. I hated that despite everything, despite the coldness, the control, there was a part of me that wanted more of him.
As the song came to an end, Nikita didn't let go immediately. His hand lingered on my waist, his eyes locked onto mine. For a moment, everything else faded away—the people, the gala, the world outside. It was just the two of us, suspended in a moment that felt charged with something I couldn't quite define.
"You're playing with fire," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "Maybe I like the heat."
His dark eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The air between us was thick, heavy with the tension that had been simmering for days—no, weeks. Ever since I had agreed to this farce of a marriage, ever since I had stepped into his world, there had been this unspoken pull between us.
And now, in this moment, I knew we both could feel it.
Before I could say anything, before I could even process what was happening, Nikita grabbed my hand, his grip firm, and led me off the dance floor. His movements were quick, deliberate, cutting through the crowd with ease. My heart raced, but I didn't protest. I couldn't. Something about the way he moved, the way he held me, left no room for objection.
He pulled me into a side hallway, away from the prying eyes of the guests, his grip on my hand almost crushing. The noise of the gala faded as we ventured deeper, until finally, he stopped in front of a door and pushed it open. Inside was a small private room—an office, perhaps, or a meeting space. It didn't matter. The moment we crossed the threshold, the door clicked shut behind us, sealing us in together, away from the rest of the world.
I barely had time to register my surroundings before Nikita spun me around and pressed me against the wall with a force that emptied my lungs. His hands were on me immediately, one gripping my ribs while the other cupped the back of my neck, his thumb brushing against the pulse that raced under my skin.
"You think you can toy with me?" he whispered, his voice filled with the kind of intensity that paralyzed me.
"I wasn't—" I started, but my voice was breathless, the words barely forming as my body betrayed me, reacting to his touch, to the heat that radiated from him.
"Don't lie to me," he growled, his face so close to mine that I could feel his breath against my lips. "You think you can make me jealous? Laugh with those men and not expect consequences?"
I swallowed hard, but I couldn't look away from him. My mind was spinning, my body on fire from the way he was holding me. I knew I should push him away, should fight back, but I didn't. I couldn't. Because the truth was, I wanted this. I had wanted it for longer than I was willing to admit.
"I wasn't trying to make you jealous," I whispered, but even I wasn't sure if I believed that.
Nikita's grip on me tightened, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "You're playing a dangerous game, Lily."
Before I could respond, his lips crashed against mine, silencing whatever protest I had left. The kiss was fierce, demanding, filled with a raw intensity that took my breath away. His body pressed against mine, pinning me to the wall, and all the tension, all the frustration that had been building between us ignited in an instant.
I gasped against his mouth, my hands instinctively reaching up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. I hated him—God, I hated him—but in that moment, I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything.
His hand on my ribs shifted up to my chest like I was hoping it would, and I arched into his grip. I felt his fingers sink to my soft flesh, kneading, caressing roughly before diving into the neckline of my dress to feel my bare skin. I whimpered at his touch, surrendering, just as his other hand slipped down to my thigh to hoist my leg up to perch on his hip.
Nikita's mouth moved to my neck, his lips brushing against my skin as he pressed heated kisses along my throat. My breath hitched, and I tilted my head back, giving him access as a low moan escaped my lips. The sound seemed to spur him on, his hand sliding up my thigh to cup my ass and pull me against him at the same time. I stifled a curse as he pushed his rock-hard length against me.
"Tell me you want this," he growled against my skin, his voice rough, urgent.
"I—" My voice caught, my body trembling from the intensity of it all. "I want?—"
But before I could finish the thought, he kissed me again, cutting off my words with a kiss so consuming that I couldn't think straight. My mind was a blur, my body a whirlwind of sensation as he dug his fingers into my ass cheek, encouraging my hips to grind against him.
His lips trailed lower again, his tongue seeking out my half-exposed breast, inching toward my nipple as his hand slid into the slit of my dress. His fingers found their way to my wet heat, making me gasp even though he only rubbed me through my panties. My body was on fire, every nerve alight with a need I hadn't realized was buried so deep within me.
"Nikita," I whimpered, clinging to him desperately as he roughly circled my clit.
He silenced me with another kiss, rougher this time, more urgent. "If you want this, keep your mouth shut," he murmured against my lips. "Or someone will hear you."
And I wanted it. God, I did.
Nikita freed my breasts from my dress and sank his teeth into me. I tossed my head back, barely stifling a cry as the pain and pleasure ripped through me. I felt him grin against me, and as if approving of my silence, his hot tongue began to lap at my stiff nipples, one after the other.
But as the heat between us built, as the passion spiraled out of control, a sliver of doubt crept into my mind. This wasn't just about desire. This was about power, about control, about the dangerous game we were playing. I was losing myself in him, and that terrified me more than anything.
Could I stay true to my mission if I let this keep going? What about?—
"Ohh!!" I cried out as his fingers plunged into my panties and slipped easily inside me, diving deep. Their insistence blasted all other thoughts away, commanding my attention with their force and fast jabs.
"Ah-ah-ah," Nikita tsked with a grin, suddenly in my face again. "You're supposed to keep your fucking mouth shut. Unless you want to be found out. You want to embarrass me?"
Like the first day at the mansion, his hand snaked into my hair and tugged, eliciting a gasp from me. Then a deep, long moan of longing. Fuck, I wanted that. His dark eyes drank in my half-lidded expression, my parted lips, his fingers never ceasing their movements. God, I couldn't focus on anything else, just the way he was bringing me closer to the edge.
Whatever happened, I didn't want him to stop.
"I asked you a question," Nikita murmured, hovering his lips close to mine.
"N-no," I managed, struggling to recall what he said. I was rocking my hips in time to his fingers fucking me, hard, wanting nothing more than to get off. I licked my lips, and that seemed to invite him back.
Nikita tasted me, and I moaned into his mouth, letting my eyes shut heavily. I was breathing hard, the room filling with the sound of our frenzied movements as I got closer, closer to the edge. For just a moment, I opened my eyes to look at him as he pulled away, and a sudden realization seemed to spread across his face.
Then, just as quickly as it began, it ended.
Nikita pulled away from me so suddenly that I almost stumbled. His hands, which had been gripping me tightly, were now gone, leaving a cold absence in their place. I blinked, disheveled and breathless, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at him in confusion. The heat of the moment still clung to my skin, but it was fading fast, replaced by a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I watched him.
He took a step back, his expression once again unreadable, the passion that had been burning in his eyes only seconds ago now replaced by an icy mask. It was as though a switch had flipped inside him, and the man who had just been kissing me with such intensity had vanished.
"What...?" My voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. "Why did you stop?"
Nikita's jaw clenched, his eyes dark and cold as they met mine. "This isn't happening."
The harshness of his words stung more than I wanted to admit. I took a shaky breath, my mind racing to catch up with the abrupt shift in his demeanor. A moment ago, he'd been all over me, his touch igniting something in me I hadn't felt in so long. And now, it was as though nothing had happened at all.
"Nikita," I started, my voice still thick with confusion and desire. "What the hell?—"
"This isn't happening, Lily," he repeated, his tone sharp, final. He took another step back, putting more distance between us, as if he needed to physically remove himself from the situation.
I blinked at him, my body still trembling from the intensity of what had happened between us. "But... you?—"
"It was a mistake," he cut me off, his voice clipped, emotionless. "We can't?—"
"You kissed me first! You started this, Nikita. Don't act like it meant nothing." I clenched my fists, my frustration boiling over.
His eyes flashed briefly with something I couldn't place—regret, maybe, or something darker. But just as quickly, his expression hardened again, his walls snapping back into place. "It was nothing," he said, his voice so cold it sent a chill down my spine. "And it won't happen again."
I stared at him, stunned, unable to believe what I was hearing. My mind was spinning, my heart still racing. But now, he stood there, distant and cold, as if I didn't matter at all.
Nikita turned toward the door, his back to me, and for a moment, I thought he might just walk out and leave me standing there, confused and hurt. But he paused, his hand on the doorframe, his head tilted slightly as if he was debating whether or not to say something.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "This can't happen. You need to remember your place."
I opened my mouth to argue, to push back against the walls he was firmly wedging between us, but no words came. The heat, the passion, the undeniable connection we had—it had felt so real in the moment, but now, standing in the cold empty room, it felt like a dream I couldn't grasp.
Without another word, Nikita pulled open the door and walked out, leaving me alone.
The silence in the room was deafening, and for a moment, I just stood there, my breath still uneven, my body still burning from his touch. But the weight of his rejection, of his sudden distance, settled over me like a heavy cloak, suffocating.
I pressed my back against the wall, sliding down to the floor as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. My mind replayed every second of it—the way he'd touched me, the way his lips had felt on mine, the way my body had responded to him with a need I hadn't realized I was capable of feeling.
And then, just like that, it was gone. Pulled away from me like a rug yanked out from under my feet.
I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to feel.