Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
NIKOLAI
T he club is hazy and dark and seductive.
It’s not the loud partying kind. It’s the top shelf drinks only with a live pianist playing jazz music kind.
I spot him in the back booth, leaning back with a smug smile on his face. I shake my head with a sigh. I’m only doing this because he’s a power player in the Bratva, and I want to expand.
And now that Maxim and the rest of The Knights want to come for me, I need all the allies I can get.
I stand next to the table.
He glances up at me. “Ah! Nikolai.”
“Dimitri,” I say gruffly and sit down.
Dimitri Ivanov is rich, well-connected, and thinks he’s god’s gift to women. A dangerous kind of man, and one I need on my side.
“Still got that scar I see,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. Scotch, if I had to guess.
I frown.
“You know, doing that doesn’t help make it look better.”
I frown even deeper. “Dimitri, I’m not here for you to mock my appearance. I’m here to discuss expansion ideas. I’m having a little issue with The Knights.”
“The motorcycle club?”
“Yes. And I would rather not cut deals with them any longer. I want to expand into other territories of the city. Seeing as you have a growing hold on Brooklyn, I thought we could discuss the idea of working together.”
“Mmm. What would this entail? Because I heard you worked with The Knights and then fucked them over.”
“They’re bikers,” I say dismissively.
“True. I hate them, too. But how do I know you won’t fuck me over as well?”
I stare him down hard. He’s what I’d call a “pretty boy.” Handsome in a rich, playboy sort of way. I’m the opposite. My scar makes me ugly to many people, but I’ve used that to my advantage. Fear is a great motivator.
Dimitri doesn’t seem fazed by my look. He just smirks and takes another sip of his drink.
“I’m not the kind of man you mess with,” I warn him. “I have a lot more power than you do in this city.”
He shrugs. “Not for long.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Just an observation.”
A waitress in a slinky black cocktail dress comes over and smiles down at Dimitri. He smiles back in a cocky way that grates on my nerves. The waitress glances over at me and doesn’t look long before she turns back to Dimitri.
“Can I get you boys anything else?” she asks.
“I’m good,” Dimitri says. “But I’m missing one thing. Your number.”
She giggles and writes it down on a napkin and then walks away without waiting for my reply. I don’t take it personally. Most women are terrified of me. Even my own fucking wife is scared of me.
I’ve gotten used to it. That doesn’t stop me from doing my job.
“Are you done?” I ask him.
Dimitri sets the napkin aside. “Fine. I’ll admit, teaming up with you would be good for business. I’m struggling to get more guns through the border with my connection in New Mexico. It means I can’t sell as much anywhere and am losing out on money. I know you don’t have a problem with that.”
“I don’t. My connection at the border is secure. It’s never let me down. So, I can offer you a cut of it if we agree to be allies. Your growing territory will also be mine.”
“I have people who work for me all throughout the city. What happens to them?”
“They still report to you. You’ll still be in charge of your own piece of the pie. We’ll just share in the rewards. And same goes for my territory and money I bring in.”
“Huh.” He sits back in his seat, swirling the scotch around. “I do like the sound of that. More money is always a win in my book. All right. If we can stick to splitting things equally, then I’m game.”
“Good.” I don’t bother shaking on it. A handshake is an honorable thing for many people, but for me, it’s bullshit. The only thing that works is results.
I start to stand when Dimitri says, “So, I heard you got married.”
“I did.”
“Who’s the unlucky girl?”
I grit my teeth together and avoid snapping at him. “None of your concern. My private life does not intersect with my business life.”
“Is she pretty? I’m guessing she is. A man like you wouldn’t settle for an ugly bride.”
I don’t respond.
Dimitri smirks and downs the rest of his drink. “I’d love to meet her someday.”
“You’re not going to meet her. She’s mine.”
“Slow down, buddy,” he says with his hands raised in surrender. “I never said I was going to kiss her or anything. I just want to meet my new business partner’s wife. That’s all.”
“This”—I motion between us— “is strictly business. If you want a woman to fuck, go fuck that waitress.”
He grabs the napkin with her number on it. “You’re right. I’m sure she’ll be a fun and easy lay. I look forward to working with you, Nikolai.” He claps me on the back and walks over to the bar, saying something to the waitress that makes her laugh.
I don’t trust Dimitri, but logistics wise, he’s a smart decision.
It better not bite me in the ass. If it does, there will be hell to pay.
AVA
My wedding ring is burning a hole in my finger.
Not literally, but it feels like it.
I haven’t left my bedroom since our wedding night, and that was a couple of days ago. Mrs. Brown has brought me food, and I eat—barely—and she collects the plates and leaves. My room has its own bathroom, so all my basic needs are met. I don’t need to leave. I don’t need to see Nikolai.
I don’t need to accept I’m married. None of this is real. If I just stay in this room, then maybe all of it goes away.
But this ring on my finger won’t let me forget the truth. That I’m married to a man I barely know. He’s dangerous and terrifying.
Yet he didn’t touch me on our wedding night. I was so sure he was going to throw me down on the bed and have his way with me.
But he didn’t.
And now, I don’t understand. He told me he has “a code” about not hurting women. I think his “honor” is bullshit. If he were truly a good man with a code to not hurt women, I wouldn’t be in this position right now. I’d be back at my apartment with my mom.
It wasn’t perfect, but we were truly happy.
I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again.
With a quick inhale of breath, I take off the ring and chuck it across the room. I can hear it clatter to the ground, but I don’t see it. Good riddance.
For the first time since marrying Nikolai, I feel like I can breathe again.
Right on cue, Mrs. Brown comes into the room with dinner. “Here you go, dear.” I eye the food—piccata with mashed potatoes and broccoli.
“I hope you enjoy it,” she says. I ignore the subtle jab. I haven’t been eating a ton, and everyone in this house knows it.
It’s just hard to eat when my stomach is constantly in knots.
She starts to leave without a word when she gasps. “Ow!”
“Mrs. Brown?”
“I stepped on something sharp.” She bends down and picks something up. “Oh, dear, it appears you lost this.” She sets my wedding ring down on the table. “You wouldn’t want to lose this.”
Dread settles in my stomach. Even when I try to throw the ring away, it comes back not even five minutes later.
Mrs. Brown smiles, thinking she’s being helpful, then leaves the room.
There’s only one way to get rid of this ring.
I grab it, go into the bathroom, and flush it down the toilet.
Claude still isn’t happy with me for not eating his food.
“What do you want from me?” he mutters, pacing the kitchen. I just brought down my half-eaten breakfast of waffles and fruit, setting him off.
“I slave all day and night making you food,” he continues, motioning at the sad waffle on my plate.
“I’m just … not hungry.” I’m grieving, is what I really want to say, but I don’t think Claude would understand. And I don’t want to give anyone in this house an ounce of my mom’s memory. I can’t risk someone ruining it.
He mutters even harder under his breath. “How can you not be hungry? You Americans eat all the time.”
“Not all of us do. Some starve themselves.”
“That’s it, then. You have an eating disorder. Well, the best cure for that is to eat.” He hands me another plate of waffles. “There. Eat them all.”
I push the plate over the counter to him. “I can’t, Claude. I’m sorry.”
“You may be the new lady of the house, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy with this.” He turns away and starts angerly peeling a potato. Its skin flies everywhere.
Mrs. Brown enters the kitchen and clucks her tongue. “Someone’s in a bad mood today.”
Someone always is , I think but don’t say aloud. No need to piss off Claude more. He makes the food. He could easily spit in it, and I wouldn’t know.
“How are you, dear?”
I glance at her, then look away. Mrs. Brown’s calm, sweet demeanor reminds me too much of my mom. “I’m trying,” I admit.
She taps my hand. “You’re not wearing your ring.”
I fold my hands together. “Mrs. Brown, what can you tell me about my husband?”
“Why do you ask?” She grabs a broom from the pantry closet and starts sweeping up Claude’s potato peels.
“I don’t even know him. What does he do … exactly?”
“We don’t ask questions,” Claude reprimands.
“I know he’s the Mafia. My father told me. But what does that mean? He came home that one day covered in blood.”
Mrs. Brown and Claude share a look. “Dear, I think that tells you everything you need to know. It’s better to not know everything. It’s safer that way.”
“Are you two not afraid to work here? Is Edmund? If Nikolai is so dangerous, then …”
“He keeps what’s out there,” Claude says, pointing toward the kitchen door, “from getting into here. He pays me well. I love to cook. I will not lose this job for asking silly questions. So, don’t ask me silly questions.”
I grip the counter so tight, my knuckles turn white. “Are you worried he’ll hurt you?”
Mrs. Brown laughs. “Heaven’s no! He’s never hurt any of us. He mostly keeps to himself.”
“Then why get a wife if he doesn’t even talk to me?” Not that I’m complaining. The fact that Nikolai has given me space after our wedding is a relief. But it also doesn’t make sense.
“You’d have to ask him that, dear.” She pats my hand. “And I would put that ring back on your finger before he sees it.”
I’m not going to tell her I flushed it down the toilet.
“I just need to know,” I say in a quieter voice to Mrs. Brown, “how powerful is he?”
“What do you mean?”
“What can he get away with?”
She sighs deeply. “Dear, he already got away with buying you and forcing you into a marriage. I think you know the answer to your own question.”
My heart constricts. I know she’s right, and I know asking these questions won’t get me what I want—my mom back. My freedom back.
I blink back tears and rush out of the kitchen before Claude can mock me for them.
Nikolai wants to have dinner with me tonight.
After ignoring me since our wedding, I find it interesting he finally wants my attention.
Of course, he doesn’t tell me himself. Mrs. Brown gives me the information through a note from Nikolai. It reads— Meet in the dining room and wear something nice .
The moment Mrs. Brown is gone, I crumple up the note and throw it away. It gives me some small satisfaction, but it doesn’t last long.
The dress I choose is black, hugs my body, and ends right above my ankles. It’s not too revealing, and yet it reveals everything.
I look like a mature woman in the mirror. Not the innocent girl I used to be. I’ll never be her again. Nikolai and my father have made sure of that.
The thought of my father reminds me of my mother. I have no idea what happened to her body. Did someone bury her? Did the police find her? The fact I haven’t had a funeral for her yet eats at my heart.
I head downstairs in my low heels. It’s strange to wear shoes in the house. At mine and my mom’s apartment, we were always barefoot.
Edmund stands at the double doors that lead to the dining room. “You look lovely tonight, Ava.”
“Thank you, Edmund,” I reply on autopilot. His kind words never help me like he probably thinks they do. They only serve to remind me of how messed up this situation is.
He opens the door, and there he is. My husband. Standing at the head of the dining room table.
I pause in the doorway. Nikolai takes a moment to look me over. It’s both clinical and full of desire at the same time. I don’t know how he does it.
Once more, I feel a flicker of something between my legs. I know what it is, but I don’t want to say it. To say what I felt for just a second would be to betray myself.
“It’s nice of you to join me this evening,” he says.
“Did I have a choice?”
He ignores my jab. “Let’s eat, shall we?”
Edmund starts to pull out my chair, but Nikolai waves him away and walks over to me himself. There, he pulls my chair out the rest of the way and waits until I sit down. Once I do, he skims his fingers just lightly over my shoulders before heading to his seat.
Goosebumps break out onto my skin.
Edmund walks out of the room, leaving us alone together.
“I would ask you how you’ve been, but I think I know,” Nikolai says.
“What do you think?”
“I’m sure you’re miserable. I know you don’t want to be here … Ava.” The way my name rolls off his tongue sends shivers over me. “I know you didn’t choose me.”
“I didn’t want to choose anyone. I just wanted to go to school.”
“School?”
I take a sip of my wine. It’s red and too bitter for my tastes. “You’re telling me you don’t know? I feel like a man, such as yourself, would know a lot about me. At least do a background check.”
A small smile passes his lips. “I know you were going to Yale. I have to say, that’s impressive. Your father never mentioned that part to me.”
My hands go cold, and I almost drop my glass onto the floor. I catch it at the last moment. “My father?”
“Yes. When he gave you to me to pay off his debts.”
“How … how could you accept? Why did you want me?”
Nikolai steeples his fingers together under his chin, giving me an intense look. “Because if I didn’t take you, he was going to give you to someone else. Anyone else to pay off his debts. And I didn’t want that.”
I press my legs tighter together. The silky fabric of my dress makes me very aware of my body in ways I’ve never been before. “Why not?”
“Because you’re mine, Ava. And who knows what kind of man he would have given you to?”
I lick my dry lips. His eyes catch onto the movement. “Are you saying I got … lucky with you?”
“If you want to look at it that way, then sure. You got lucky with me. But the truth is I just wanted you for myself. I took one look at your picture and knew you belonged here. In my home. With me. I couldn’t stand the thought of some other man getting his hands onto you. So, I took the deal. Your father’s debts are paid off. And you’re here. I’m not a good man, and I never claimed to be. Don’t mistake me wanting you as me saving you.”
“Are you going to abuse me?”
“What an interesting question,” he says, taking a sip of his wine. “If I was going to abuse you, wouldn’t I say ‘no? That I would never hurt you?’”
“I guess.” I hate how breathless I sound. “But you told me you have a code. That you don’t hurt women.”
He lifts one eyebrow. It stretches his scar across his face. “And you didn’t believe me? Or did you?”
“I don’t know what to believe. Not yet. But I do know you took me away from my education. You’ve kept me in this house. You forced me to marry you. You’re right—you’re not a good man.”
He raises his glass to me. “And now, you’re finally figuring it out. I’m part of the Bratva. It’s the Russian mob. I wasn’t raised to be good, and I’ll never be good.” For just a moment, his eyes soften. “But I will never hit you. I can promise you that. I have no desire to do that.”
“You just wanted to own me.”
“Yes. Yes, I did.” The fact he doesn’t deny it makes me feel … weird. On one hand, it’s disturbing. He’s completely comfortable with the darkness. On the other hand, his honesty is refreshing. At least if he’s always being honest, I’ll know what I’m getting with him.
And maybe—just maybe—I can work with that.
“Can I at least go back to school?” I ask. “I worked so hard for it. I can’t give it up.”
Nikolai stares down at the table for a long moment. “We’ll see. In time. I’ll let you return when I know I can trust you. When I know you won’t run from me.”
“But if you let me go and I come back, wouldn’t that earn me trust?”
He smirks. “You are smart. I can see why you got into Yale. And yes, you have a point. But we’re not there yet in our marriage. I suggest you get comfortable with the idea you belong to me now, Ava. You’re mine.”
How can I forget ?
Claude brings our food in, breaking the tension. It’s a relief.
Tonight’s dinner is duck with some fancy sauce that Claude explains, but I forget the moment he says it. He gives me a hard look so I take a bite.
“It’s delicious,” I tell him.
Appeased, Claude leaves.
“He doesn’t like me,” I say.
Nikolai laughs softly. It’s a strange sound—like he doesn’t do it much. “Claude doesn’t like anyone. He just doesn’t get angry with me because of who I am.”
“And who are you?” My fork scraps across the plate, making me wince.
“I’m someone you don’t want to make angry.”
I set my fork down and press my hands together under the table. I need to ask the question I’ve been dreading asking. If I don’t, then I’ll never find closure.
“Nikolai.”
“Mmm?”
“I need to go back to my old apartment.”
He stops eating. The silence in the room is deafening. “And why is that?”
“Because my mother was killed there. I need to bury her body. Give her a funeral. Please. I’ll never be able to move on without it.”
Nikolai’s eyes soften again. “Well, I can understand that. I can go with you.”
“Really? You’ll let me go?”
“Together.”
“Right. That’s fine. I just need to put her to rest.” I place my hands over my heart. “Thank you.”
His eyes flick to my hands. More specifically, my left hand and ring finger. Absent a ring. “Why aren’t you wearing your ring?”
“Because I … didn’t want to wear it.”
“Go put it on.”
I gulp. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I flushed it down the toilet.”
Nikolai’s face tenses. His fingers around his fork turn white. “You flushed the ring I gave you down the toilet.” It’s not a question.
“I did. Yes.”
“I seem to remember saying you’re a smart woman. Right now, Ava, you’re not being very smart. I take back our deal. You don’t get to go to your old apartment.”
My heart drops right out of me. “What? But my mom?—”
“Can wait there until you have a new ring on your finger. You are mine, Ava, and the sooner you accept it, the sooner you can earn my trust.”
“But you can’t take this from me. Please.”
“Need I remind you? I’m not a good man.”
For a just second, I saw a glimmer of goodness in him, and now, it’s all gone.
I push my plate away and stand up. “I can’t eat.”
He sighs and motions to the door. “Fine. You may leave.”
I rush out of the room, but before I turn the corner, I glance back at him …
… and see Nikolai still seated at the table with his head in his hands.
I’m not even changed out of my black dinner dress by the time Nikolai shows up in my room with a ring box in his hands.
“I had spares,” he admits, opening the box. It’s the same exact ring.
“You expected I would throw my ring away?”
“I figured it could happen. I like to be prepared.” He grabs my hand and slips the ring on my finger. “Keep it there this time.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand.
His fingers are strong and long. He has handsome, manly hands. I think back to Jason’s hands, and his were always so skinny. Nikolai has hands I could stare at for a long time and never get bored.
He runs his thumb over the ring and my finger. “I know none of this is what you wanted.”
“So, why do it?” I don’t pull away. “You didn’t choose me to save me. You said so yourself. So, why exactly did you want me?”
“I just did,” he says in a low voice. “There wasn’t a reason to it. I just knew.”
“Nikolai …”
He lets go of my hand. “Take off your dress for me.”
I blink, then my cheeks run hot. “Why do you want me to do that?”
“Because I want to see you.” His strong, physical presence is messing with my head. He’s just … manly. He smells of it. It oozes from his pores.
I hate him. But there’s that flicker again between my legs. I still refuse to say the word.
“Will you force me?” I whisper.
His eyes darken. “No.”
“If I asked you to leave, would you?”
“I would.”
The words are right on the tip of my tongue. Leave . But I don’t say it.
I bring my hands to the straps of my dress and tug them down. Slowly, the dress falls over my body until it pools at my feet. I keep my eyes glued to his face—scar and all.
My black bra and underwear set is provocative. It’s something I never would have worn, but it was the only color in the closet to choose from.
Nikolai’s hands turn into fists. I trust he won’t hit me.
Why am I even doing this? A part of me wants to regain my power and make my own choices. Another part of me just wanted to see his reaction.
I want to learn more about Nikolai.
If I’m going to be stuck in this house with him as a husband, then I don’t want him to be a stranger to me.
I keep my arms down at my sides and let him look. Finally, I speak. “Are you going to let me see you?”
His fists unfurl. “You’re not ready to see me.” I wonder if he’s speaking about his body or something deeper.
Nikolai keeps his eyes on my face, not even looking at my body, before he walks away without a word.
I let out a breath and slump onto the bed.
My ring glints in the soft lighting. This time, I don’t take it off.
I curl my hand against my body and hold it there.