Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
Lily
E very moment in Nikita's mansion felt like I was suffocating under the weight of my own lies. Each breath was labored, each glance in his direction filled with guilt. The plan had been clear for years—avenge Alexei, make Nikita pay for what he did. I had told myself from the start that I was strong enough to follow through. That I could play the part of his wife, get close enough, and then walk away, leaving behind the wreckage of his life.
But things had changed.
I hadn't expected this. I hadn't expected him to be anything more than the monster I'd built him up to be in my mind. But he was more. He was ruthless, yes, but there was a side to him I hadn't anticipated—a side that made me feel things I shouldn't. The way he looked at me sometimes, the way his hand would linger on mine just a second longer than necessary, the way he pulled me closer at night. The Nikita I had come to know wasn't just the man who ordered my husband's death—he was something else entirely. I wanted to be with him.
And that terrified me.
I stood by the window, staring out at the expansive grounds of his estate, my heart pounding in my chest. A small suitcase sat on the bed behind me, half packed, the zipper partially undone. I had been telling myself for days that I needed to leave, to get away before I cracked under the mounting pressure.
I couldn't be with Nikita, not after lying to him. He didn't even know who I really was, and I couldn't bring myself to tell him.
The guilt was eating me alive. Every smile I gave him, every laugh, every touch—it all felt like a betrayal. Not just to Alexei's memory but to Nikita himself. He didn't know that I had come into his life for revenge. And every day that I stayed, it became harder and harder to keep up the act. I wasn't supposed to feel this way about him. I wasn't supposed to care or want a real life with him.
But I did.
I glanced at the suitcase again, my chest tightening. I had to leave tonight. If I stayed any longer, I knew I wouldn't have the strength to walk away. And what I feared the most was staying here in this terrible limbo, of making him love me. No, not loving me . I feared making him love the facade. What would life become if I stayed? I'd remain this pretender, forever longing for something I'd never allow myself to have.
With a shaky breath, I walked over to the bed and zipped the suitcase shut. I stared at it for a long moment, my hands trembling slightly as I grasped the handle. I needed to go. I needed to leave before Nikita saw through my lies, before he realized I wasn't the woman he thought I was. If I stayed, it would only raise more questions, and I wasn't ready for that confrontation.
Just as I reached for the door, I heard footsteps in the hallway. My heart jumped into my throat, and I froze, the suitcase handle still in my grip. The door swung open, and Nikita stepped inside, his eyes immediately falling on the suitcase.
"Going somewhere?" His voice was cold, his expression unreadable. There was a stiffness in his stance, a dark edge in his tone that made my stomach twist.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "I… I thought I'd take a break. Get some space. Just for a few days."
He stared at me for a long moment, his gaze hard, and for a second, I thought I saw something flicker behind his eyes—something that looked like suspicion. But it passed quickly, replaced by the same cold mask he always wore when he was trying to keep something hidden.
"A break," he repeated, his voice flat.
I nodded, my throat tightening. "Just to clear my head."
His eyes never left mine, and the silence between us stretched, thick and suffocating. I could feel the suspicion in the air, the way he was watching me, analyzing every word, every movement. My pulse quickened, and I could feel the weight of my lie pressing down on me, crushing me. But I couldn't tell him the truth. Not when everything was so fragile.
"I was about to suggest something similar," Nikita said, his voice measured. He took a step toward me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I've arranged a trip for us. A few days away, at one of my private estates."
The air in the room shifted, and I felt my heart sink. This wasn't a suggestion—it was an order. He was keeping me close, ensuring that I wouldn't leave. And the way he said it, the way he looked at me… he knew something was wrong. I could feel it in the way his eyes lingered on mine, as if he was waiting for me to crack.
"A trip?" I echoed, trying to keep my voice steady, but it came out shaky. "When?"
"Tonight," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The car will be ready in an hour."
I stood there, staring at him, my mind racing. I couldn't refuse. If I did, it would only raise more questions, more suspicion. I was already walking a thin line, and one wrong move would bring everything crashing down.
"That sounds… nice," I finally said, forcing a small smile. "I could use some time away."
Nikita's expression remained cold, distant. He didn't smile back, didn't soften.
"Good," he said, his voice clipped. "I'll have someone take care of your things."
With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me standing there with the weight of my deception pressing down on me like a crushing tide. I let out a shaky breath, sinking onto the edge of the bed as I stared at the suitcase. I had been so close to leaving, so close to walking away, and now I was trapped. Trapped in a web of lies of my own making.
The drive to Nikita's private estate was suffocatingly silent. I sat in the back seat, staring out the window as the city gave way to endless fields and forests, the sky darkening as the sun began to set. I could feel Nikita's eyes on me from time to time, watching, waiting, but I didn't dare meet his gaze. I couldn't. Every time I looked at him, the guilt surged inside me, a crushing wave that threatened to pull me under.
The car finally pulled up to the estate, a sprawling property surrounded by dense woods, isolated from everything. It was beautiful, but all I could think about was how trapped I felt. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I had walked into this willingly, and now there was no escape.
As we stepped out of the car, Nikita placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the entrance. His touch was possessive, firm, reminding me that I was his, that I had chosen this path. I could feel the tension radiating from him, the way his fingers pressed just a little too hard, like he was holding something back.
We entered the grand foyer, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the marble floors. The estate was lavish, just like everything else in Nikita's life, but it felt colder, more intimate in a way that made my skin crawl. His men patrolled around, but hardly any staff roamed about, not like at the mansion. It felt like it was just the two of us, alone, with nothing but the truth hanging between us like a dark cloud.
Nikita led me into the living room, where a fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. But the warmth did nothing to ease the tension in the air. Nikita poured himself a drink, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was biding his time.
"Do you like it here?" he asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge to his voice that sent a chill down my spine.
"It's beautiful," I replied, my voice tight. "Very peaceful."
He took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine. "I thought we could use some time alone. To talk."
My heart pounded in my chest, the guilt surging inside me like a tidal wave. I couldn't do this. I couldn't keep lying to him, pretending that everything was fine when I was planning to leave. But I couldn't tell him the truth, either. If I did, it would destroy him. It would destroy both of us.
"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Nikita set his glass down on the table, stepping closer to me. "Us."
The word hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. My chest tightened, and I took a step back, needing space, needing air. But there was no escape. I was trapped. Trapped in this house, trapped in my lies, trapped in my feelings for him. Feelings I wasn't supposed to have.
"Nikita, I…" I started, but the words caught in my throat.
He raised a hand, silencing me. "I know something's been bothering you," he said quietly, his voice low and intense. "I can feel it. The distance between us. The tension."
I froze, my breath catching in my throat. He knew. He knew something was wrong. The way he was looking at me, the way his voice had that dangerous edge—it was clear he was waiting for me to slip.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered, but even I didn't believe that.
Nikita's gaze darkened, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker behind his cold eyes—something dangerous. His jaw tightened, and without warning, he grabbed my arm, his grip firm and unyielding. Panic shot through me as he pulled me closer, his fingers digging into my skin just enough to make me wince.
"What are you doing?" My voice trembled, but I tried to mask the fear creeping up my spine.
Nikita said nothing, his expression hard and unforgiving. His silence was more terrifying than words, and I could feel the shift in the air between us—the crackling tension that had been simmering for days finally reaching its breaking point.
I tugged against his grip, but it was useless. He wasn't letting go. My heart raced as he dragged me toward the stairs, his pace quick and determined. The house felt colder now, the shadows on the walls stretching and twisting as we ascended to the second floor. My mind raced, a thousand questions swirling, but I couldn't find the strength to ask any of them. All I could focus on was the growing fear—the realization that something had changed in him.
He pushed open a door, revealing a bedroom. The room was dark, the bed large and imposing, the walls lined with heavy curtains that blocked out the outside world. I stumbled inside as he shoved me forward, my pulse quickening as the door slammed shut behind us.
"Nikita," I breathed, panic creeping into my voice. "Answer me."
He didn't, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. There was something possessive in his gaze, something raw and primal. It wasn't just anger—it was something deeper, something I couldn't quite understand.
The chill of the room pressed around me as Nikita closed the distance between us, his presence dark and overpowering. His expression was unreadable, but there was something dangerous in the way he moved, in the way his gaze burned into mine. My pulse quickened as I stood frozen, unable to escape the weight of his intensity. His silence was suffocating, each second stretching as I waited for him to say something—anything.
But he didn't. He didn't need to.
Before I could react, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist in a punishing hold. His fingers dug into my skin, the pressure making me wince as he yanked me closer. I gasped, my heart racing as I stumbled forward, but his grip remained firm, unrelenting. His eyes never left mine, devoid of any softness, as he moved us toward the bed with brutal efficiency.
"Nikita—" I started, my voice trembling with both fear and anticipation.
My heart pounded as I tried to keep up with him, my legs barely moving fast enough as his hand guided me with a force that left no room for resistance. I stumbled against the edge of the bed, and before I could catch myself, Nikita shoved me down, his strength overpowering me in an instant.
I fell back onto the mattress with a soft cry, my body sinking into the plush covers as he towered over me. He grabbed my other wrist and yanked it toward the bedpost with brutal force. I barely had time to process what was happening before he pulled a length of rope from his pocket and tied my wrists, one after the other, to the bedposts with quick, decisive movements.
The rough fibers of the rope bit into my skin, the pressure intense as I struggled against the bindings. But it was useless. The knots were too tight, leaving me completely helpless beneath him.
"Nikita… what are you doing?" I whispered, my voice shaking. But my body. My body was such a traitor.
He ignored me. His cold eyes locked onto mine as he finished securing the ropes. There was no hesitation in his movements, no gentleness. Only raw power. Only control.
He stood back for a moment, his gaze roaming over me like a predator assessing its prey. The weight of his stare was crushing, and I felt my breath quicken, my chest rising and falling rapidly as panic surged through me. But beneath the fear, excitement raced through me. Anticipation.
He reached for the hem of my shirt with both hands, then the sound of ripping fabric filled the room as it yielded to his strength. He didn't stop tearing at my shirt until it was a mess of useless shreds at either side of my body. Next, he got to work freeing my breasts, pulling them halfway out of the cups of my bra. It felt more humiliating than just having them completely bare.
My skin prickled in the cool air, exposed and vulnerable, and I shivered as his eyes darkened, his lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smile. I struggled against the ropes, but it was futile. He gave me a sharp look. It pinned me in place, more ruthless than the bindings that held me to the bed. He didn't need to speak. I could see the intent in his eyes, the dark hunger that radiated off him in waves.
He was going to take me.
The ache growing in intensity between my thighs began to overpower everything else I felt. When we came together like this, it blasted through the things unspoken and pulled us closer. I wanted our union, the chaos of it. I wanted to release everything, all over again.
I wanted to be helpless to the fire melding us together.
He leaned down, his body pressing against mine, his weight pinning me to the bed as his lips hovered inches from mine. I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin, and my body squirmed beneath his, an itch racing across my skin that demanded to be scratched.
His hand gripped my jaw, forcing me to look at him, his fingers digging into my flesh with a pressure that sent a wave of surrender through me.
"You will scream my name today," he growled, his voice low and rough, the sound vibrating through me like a shockwave. "Do you understand that?"
I swallowed hard, my body trembling beneath him, but I couldn't speak. My mind was spinning, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I felt that familiar feeling creep over me—submission.
His hand tightened on my jaw, his fingers bruising as he forced my head back. Then his lips crashed against mine with bruising intensity.
The kiss was punishing. There was no softness, no tenderness. Only raw possession, his tongue invading my mouth, demanding everything from me. I whimpered, my body straining against the ropes, forcing the coarse restraints to bite me again.
Nikita's legs parted my thighs, forcing through my resistance, something I only put up because I knew how my body would react. And I didn't want him to know how badly I needed to feel him rubbing demandingly against my core.
I felt him inching closer, sinking between my legs, and I arched to meet him, trembling as I gave in, moaning into his mouth. With a grunt, he shoved a hand between us and hiked my skirt up, not breaking the kiss. I felt his urgent groping and wrenched my mouth away to suck in air. His teeth found my throat as he tore my panties off, and I hissed as I felt the sharp complaint of the fabric before it ripped apart.
I clung to the pain he gave me. The burn of the rope, his rough touch and bruising teeth, they all came together to ease the guilt—if only temporarily—and let me believe that I could make it all better.
If only for tonight.
And when he demanded entrance into my slick hole, taking me in one hard thrust, I arched off the bed, crying out as I clenched my fists. I completely lost control at the moment. His thrusts only increased in intensity, in urgent need, his breath hot in my ear as he continued to whisper between grunts and ragged breaths.
"Scream my fucking name."
I screamed, alright. My cries filled the room as he pounded me into the bed without restraint, not a thought in my head, my brain unable to form words. There was only Nikita, only us, and as each second passed, I was more and more a greedy little hole for him.
I fucked him back, spreading my legs wide, urging him deeper, harder, deeper!
I had tried to run away, but pinned beneath him and starving for his cock, it was like I was sprinting much faster back into his arms, feeling like I never wanted to part again.
Emotion welled in my chest like a flood. How I wanted to be deserving of this, how I wanted to offer him an untainted love. But all I could offer him was submission, greedily taking what he would give me until he left me meek and guilty again.
"Scream my fucking name!" he demanded, his fingers like a vice on my hip.
"Nikita!" I finally yelled. "Nikita, take me!"
The moment I said his name, his hand moved between my legs, his fingers finding the sensitive spot that made me cry out in the sweetest pleasure. My body bucked against him, my breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps as the orgasm ripped through me, powerful and all-consuming.
Nikita groaned, his grip on my hips tightening as he chased his own release, his body tense as he took everything he wanted from me. His thrusts became harder, more erratic, until finally, with a low, guttural sound, he found his release, his body collapsing against mine as he spilled into me.
We lay there for a moment, tangled together, both of us breathing heavily as the intensity of what had just happened settled over us. Nikita didn't move, his weight pressing down on me, his breath hot against my skin. The ropes still held my wrists to the bed, and the marks they left on my skin would be a reminder of the ruthless way he had claimed me.
And I knew, in that moment, that there was no escape, not from my lies, not from the guilt.
And not from him.