Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
Lily
T he days in Nikita's mansion began to blend together. I had grown used to the cold marble floors, the grand sprawling hallways, and the ever-watchful eyes of his men. They never looked at me directly, but I could feel their presence everywhere I went, like shadows following me. It was unnerving. No matter how beautiful the surroundings, this place felt like a cage.
Nikita wasn't around much during the day. He was always off handling his business—leaving me confined here. Sure, it gave me time to explore the mansion and get closer to the people who worked for him. I wasn't just here to play the dutiful wife—I had a mission, and I couldn't forget that. No matter how complicated things were getting with Nikita.
But I also couldn't leave to retrieve the poison. For now, all I could do was gather information.
The kitchen staff were the easiest to talk to. They were all women, most of them older, and they didn't seem as guarded around me as the men. I started spending more time in the kitchen, offering to help with small tasks even though they insisted I didn't have to. It gave me an excuse to ask questions, to listen for any useful bits of information that might slip out.
"Mrs. Volkov, you really don't need to trouble yourself with peeling potatoes," one of the cooks, Alina, said with a soft smile. She had kind eyes, the kind that made you feel like you could trust her.
I smiled back, trying to seem casual. "I don't mind. It keeps me busy."
Alina glanced around, making sure we were alone before leaning in a little closer. "You seem... different from the other women who've come through here," she said in a low voice. "You care about things. That's not something we see much of in this house."
I stiffened slightly, wondering how much she knew. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the door as if she expected someone to walk in at any moment. "Mr. Volkov... he's not like the men you're used to. He's a good man, in his own way, but this world—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "Just be careful. People in this world don't survive by being soft."
I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. "I understand."
But the truth was, I didn't understand. Not fully. This world was so far from the life I had known before Alexei's death, and every day, I felt like I was losing a piece of myself to it.
Later that afternoon, while I was wandering the mansion, I overheard a conversation I wasn't meant to hear. I had walked past Nikita's office and heard the low murmur of voices inside—his and Mikhail's, if I wasn't mistaken. The door was cracked open just enough for me to hear their words.
"... the shipment will arrive next week," Nikita was saying, his voice calm but with an edge of something colder. "Everything has to go smoothly. If we pull this off, we'll have control over the arms trade in half the city."
Mikhail responded, his voice quieter but equally intense. "And if it doesn't go smoothly?"
Nikita let out a low, dangerous laugh. "Then we make sure it does."
I pressed myself against the wall, my heart racing. I had known, of course, that Nikita was involved in dangerous things. He was the head of the Bratva, after all. But hearing him talk so casually about arms deals, about power and control... it made my stomach twist. This wasn't just about money or influence. This was about life and death. And I was in the middle of it.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching from the other end of the hall. I quickly moved away from the door, trying to look like I hadn't just been eavesdropping. As I walked down the hallway, my mind raced with what I had overheard. Was this what Alexei had been involved in? Had he been caught up in this deadly world without me even knowing it?
Later that evening, when Nikita found me in the sitting room, I could tell something had shifted between us. He was watching me more closely now, his eyes dark and guarded.
"Finding your way around the place alright?" he asked casually enough, but I could sense danger.
I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Just... getting used to things."
He studied me for a moment longer, then walked over to stand by the window. "You should be careful where you wander, Lily," he said, his tone laced with warning. "There are parts of this house, parts of my life, that aren't meant for you."
A chill ran down my spine at his words. There it was again—that possessiveness, that need to control every aspect of my life. It wasn't just about keeping me safe. It was about keeping me in my place. And I hated it.
"I'm not a prisoner here," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I can go where I want."
Nikita turned to face me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're my wife," he said quietly. "And that means your safety is my responsibility. I can't have you wandering around where you might get hurt."
His words were meant to be reassuring, but they had the opposite effect. Instead of feeling protected, I felt suffocated.
I tried to process what Nikita had said. His words echoed in my mind: your safety is my responsibility . I could feel his leash tightening around me, invisible and taut, pulling me closer to him while cutting off the freedom I had once taken for granted.
And suddenly, I couldn't breathe.
What would become of my mission if I couldn't go where I pleased? What if I couldn't gather information? Then I'd have to face the reality of being his possession, of failing to avenge Alexei. It was one thing to agree not to leave—and forget about retrieving the poison for now—but halting the mission altogether?
Absolutely not.
In a near panic, I strode toward him, my eyes blazing with emotion. His eyebrows raised slightly, and a flicker of surprise lit up his dark eyes.
"Get hurt?" I repeated, spitting the words out incredulously. "This is supposed to be your fortress. If I'm not safe inside or outside of these walls, then what do you plan to do? Collar me and lead me around on a leash?"
Nikita stepped forward, looking down on me like he was noticing me for the first time. His eyes raked up and down my body, and a flash of a memory entered my mind. The last time we were in this room together, he had grabbed me and pulled me to his body. He had dared me to leave, but I didn't.
As thoughts of him filled my head, my body began to react, growing hot beneath my dress. I was anticipating him grabbing me again, forcing our bodies close. I felt myself falter under his gaze, but I set my jaw and tried to hold onto my anger.
"Is that what I have to do?" he asked quietly. "Treat you like a bitch so you accept your place?"
I drew in a breath, my eyes widening, but he continued, speaking a little louder to cover up any words I might utter.
"Maybe I should let you learn for yourself why you should listen to me without question. How about I call Petrov over here myself? Sounds like you need a taste of what a man like that would do to a woman like you."
Nikita's hand shot out to grip my throat, and smoothly, he tilted my chin up with his thumb, turning my expression of defiance into a spectacle. In one gesture, he was telling me that my indignation meant nothing to a powerful man like him. In fact, it was amusing—I could see the hint of laughter dancing in his eyes.
"I know what Petrov would do to you." Nikita's fingers squeezed my throat, not quite blocking the channel of air I tried to hold onto, but making me feel the pressure, the threat. "He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off a body like yours."
As if to demonstrate his point, Nikita put his free hand to my lower back, smoothing it down to my ass. I couldn't help gasping, a small protest that he ignored. My mind hooked onto the feel of him as he swept over my cheeks, then cupped my ass roughly.
"That man, he's driven by his instincts, sure. But he'd also need to see just how much of a price he could put on you. You know, sample the goods. Break you in himself and have a damn good time doing it."
He leaned in to say these words against my throat, his face shifting upward, like he was smelling my fear—or sniffing for something else. I licked my lips despite myself, shutting my eyes, and all I could think about was his hot touch roaming my thighs, how his hand was shifting between us to stroke the fronts of my thighs. I squirmed and clamped my legs together.
Nikita laughed in my face, and I flinched like he had slapped me.
"No matter how many times your mouth and body told him no, he wouldn't stop, not until he explored every hole you have to offer."
A single finger touched just above my sex and trailed upward, making me jerk and gasp again. My body was on fire for him, and I could feel the heat pooling between my legs. I hated him.
But what I hated more was I wanted him to keep touching me.
"Now, would you rather stay here and do as I say, or should I throw you to that dog and let him have his way with you?" Nikita barked and shook my head for emphasis, his lips close to my ear.
I gritted my teeth as his hand spread over my stomach, reaching for my ribs, and I felt my back arch into his grip.
"I want to stay with you," I said firmly, annoyance etching into my face. "Keep me here, but don't restrict my movements. This mansion is all I have if I can't go outside."
"You think you can tell me what to do?" He scoffed, and his hand passed up my chest, eliciting a hiss from my lips. I had to choke down the moan as his fingers passed over my stiff nipple. "You think I'll let you just waltz around where you like?"
I swallowed hard and opened my eyes. I fixed him with a glare, which only made him smile.
"Try and stop me," I dared, and I meant every word. I knew he could stop me, easily, but I wasn't going to roll over and let him have his way without a fight.
And a part of me wanted to find out what he'd do.
The amusement died in his eyes, and all at once, he stopped touching my body, even releasing my throat. I took in a deep breath but couldn't step away from him. It was like I was locked in place, not wanting to be away from the heat his body offered me.
Slowly, he raised a hand to my face, then stroked my cheek with a tenderness that nearly vibrated with an underlying restraint. His eyes told me what he wouldn't say—I was treading ground no one dared to, and he was debating whether to crush me right then and there.
My lips parted, and his gaze shifted immediately. A sudden sharp hunger filled his expression, and I opened my mouth wider, unknown words on the tip of my tongue.
"Keep it up, Lily," he finally whispered, his eyes never leaving my lips. "Keep testing me, and I'll break you in myself."
As I lay in my bed later that evening, Nikita's words filled my head.
I'll break you in myself.
A shiver ran over my body, and a powerful need threatened to overtake me. Just like when he first said it, my body started to feel weak. I had wanted to melt into his arms and let him make good on his promise.
But what was happening to me?
My thoughts drifted back to Alexei. It was impossible not to think of him, especially during moments when I felt so lost, so unsure of where I stood.
Alexei had been everything to me. He was my anchor, the one person who had made me feel safe in a world that often felt chaotic. We had met young, our connection immediate and intense. He had this warmth about him, a lightness that made me feel like I could breathe freely around him. He wasn't like the men I had known growing up—men who wielded power like a weapon, men like my father. No, Alexei had been different. He was gentle, patient, always looking out for me in a way that made me feel seen, understood.
And then he was gone.
I still remember the night it happened, the way the world had shifted on its axis, leaving me adrift in the aftermath. The phone call had come late, waking me from a restless sleep. The voice on the other end of the line was calm, almost indifferent, as it delivered the news. Alexei had been killed. An "accident," they said, though I knew better. There were no accidents in the world he had found himself tangled in, no random tragedies. It was deliberate. Calculated.
I had been told not to ask questions, not to dig too deep into the circumstances of his death. But I couldn't let it go. I couldn't accept that Alexei was just gone, that his life had been taken from him so senselessly. Only my father would point me in the right direction. That's why I was here, in this mansion, playing the role of Nikita Volkov's wife. I needed answers. I needed to avenge Alexei's death and make his murderer pay.
That need for revenge had fueled me for so long, kept me moving forward even when everything felt impossible. But now, being here with Nikita, something had shifted. The more time I spent with him, the more I found myself questioning everything—my mission, my emotions, even my own resolve.
Because Nikita presented an obstacle I hadn't anticipated.
He was cold, yes. Ruthless. But there was something else beneath the surface. He could be alluring, in his own way. Protective. And that was what unnerved me the most. I had seen his cruelty, the way he commanded fear and respect from those around him, but I had also seen flashes of something in him that made me hunger for more.
I hadn't wanted to admit it.
But I wanted him.
It was a deep, aching need that I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried. My body betrayed me every time he was near. Every time he touched me, even the smallest brush of his hand against my skin, it was like electricity shooting through my veins. And after that kiss at the gala...
God, that kiss.
I couldn't stop thinking about it. The way his lips had crashed against mine, fierce and demanding, as if he couldn't control himself any longer. The way his hands had gripped my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. The heat, the intensity, the way he had made my heart race, my body tremble—it had been overwhelming. And now, no matter how much I tried to push the memory away, it was there, haunting me. Taunting me.
My body ached for him in a way that I couldn't explain, in a way that made me feel weak. It was a craving I didn't want to have, something primal, something I couldn't control. But the more I tried to ignore it, the stronger it became.
I wanted to keep hating him. I wanted to stay focused on my mission, on avenging Alexei's death. But my body had other plans. Every time I was near Nikita, the desire coiled inside me, twisting tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.
And now, alone in my room, with the memory of his kiss still lingering on my lips, I could feel that need growing again. The pulse between my legs, the warmth spreading through my body—it was too much. I could still feel the ghost of his hands on my skin, the way his touch had ignited something deep inside me that I hadn't felt in so long.
I traced the handprints he had left behind on my body earlier, starting with my breasts. I kneaded my chest hard, my back arching off the bed as memories of him flooded my mind. I thought about his hot mouth sucking my flesh and biting into me, like at the gala. That pushed my hands lower, racing toward my core, aching so sharply it almost hurt.
I'll break you in myself.
My fingers danced over my lips, seeking at first to tease, but I was far beyond that. I needed to touch myself directly. I slipped my hands into my panties, thinking only of Nikita's strong hands all over me, possessing me.
My fingers moved slowly at first, tentative, as I tried to suppress the shame bubbling inside me. But it wasn't long before the need overwhelmed everything else. I stroked my clit faster, more desperately, as I chased that release, that moment of escape.
I bit my lip, trying to stifle the sounds escaping my throat, trying to keep an awareness of the room. What if he suddenly opened my door? Then he would see how much I needed him.
Maybe I wanted him to see. Maybe I wanted him to watch me fuck myself, and only when I was done would he?—
The release came quickly, washing over me in waves, leaving me trembling and breathless, Nikita's name on the tip of my tongue. But as my body relaxed, the guilt settled in. I lay there in the darkness, my heart pounding, my skin still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure, but my mind was a mess.
I couldn't deny it anymore. I wanted Nikita. Physically. Desperately. But what did that mean? What did it mean for my mission, for my loyalty to Alexei, for the revenge I had promised myself?
I didn't have answers. Only confusion. And an aching need that needed to be satisfied.