Chapter 13
ELLE
Idon't even try to sleep at first. I just lie on my side, tucked under the covers of Nikolai's ridiculously oversized bed, staring at the ceiling like it's going to give me a sign on what comes next.
This is his room. His space. I've spent two weeks wondering if I'd ever end up here, and now I am. The sheets smell like him, like the scent has soaked into the fabric and isn't planning on leaving.
All I have to do is breathe and act normal.
Except I'm lying next to a man who has been ignoring me for two weeks after wrecking my soul on our wedding night. So yeah. No pressure.
He slides in beside me quietly, the mattress shifting with his weight. He doesn't say anything right away. Just pulls the covers up and settles in close enough that I feel his arm brush mine under the blanket.
We lie there while I rack my brain for something to say that isn't painfully awkward.
Nikolai solves the problem by turning off the lamp. The room plunges into darkness, and I feel him shift closer.
"Come here," he says. His voice a low rumble in the dark.
I hesitate for only a second before scooting toward him.
He turns toward me, slips one arm under my head, the other around my waist, and pulls me against that solid wall he calls a chest. I tense at first, not knowing how to just be. But then he strokes a hand down my back, and my body purrs, melting into his.
I close my eyes.
Savor the moment.
Because this is what I've wanted. Him, close. Him, real.
"This is good," he murmurs, his breath warm against my hair. "You didn't fight the move."
I can't help the laugh that bubbles up. "Honestly? I was wondering how long it would take you."
"Were you now?" He breathes into the back of my neck and I shiver.
"Mmhmm. Two weeks of strategic bikinis." I press my face into his chest to hide my smile.
"I noticed."
"And yet you made me wait."
"I was..." He searches for the word. "Adjusting."
"To what? Having a hot wife?" Look at me, flirting like I'm a pro. I don't know what I'm doing. But tonight it comes easy with him. Like my mouth bypasses the overthinking part of my brain entirely.
He huffs out something that might be a laugh. I'm calling it a win.
For a minute, neither of us speaks. It's not awkward. Just still. Comfortable in a way that makes me almost forget how strange everything is between us.
I shift and tilt my head up so I can see his face in the dim light.
"Can I ask you something?"
His hand tightens slightly on my waist. But he nods. "Yeah."
I hesitate for a second, then remind myself I don't need liquid courage every time a tough conversation comes around. You're a grown-up, Elle. Act like it.
"Pasha's mom. What happened?"
He goes quiet. Not tense exactly, but I feel his body still, like he's preparing himself to answer.
"I was different back then," he says finally. "Wild. Reckless."
"Some things never change," I tease, keeping my voice light.
For once, he chuckles. "True enough." His hand resumes its slow circles on my skin.
"Go on, wild one."
"I was in my early thirties. Working for Uncle Viktor, but going through a rough patch. Living in Brooklyn, in a shitty apartment with no heat and a mattress on the floor. Staying off the grid after a job went sideways. I drank too much. Fought more. Slept around. Thought it made me untouchable."
I stay quiet and just let him speak, realizing this is one of those rare moments, maybe the only one, where he's opening up to me.
"One day I came home and there he was. Sitting in a car seat outside my door.
Six months old and so damn tiny I couldn't help but hate whoever left him out there.
Diaper bag. Cheap blanket. A note. Just a couple of lines.
Said he was mine. That she couldn't raise him.
No phone number. No return address. Not even the baby's name. "
I blink. "Must have been a shock."
He nods. "Thought someone was messing with me. Some rival trying to bait me. But the second I picked him up, he looked right at me. And I just... knew."
"I named him Pasha," he says quietly. "After my grandfather. Figured if I was going to keep him, he deserved a name that meant something."
"You never questioned it?"
He shakes his head. "Didn't have to. Same birthmark on our right hip. Clear as day."
I chew the inside of my cheek. "You didn't think about walking away?"
His eyes meet mine. Steady. "Not once."
I study his face. Not to poke holes. Just to see the loyalty, and the weight of that kind of decision, written across it.
"That's kind of incredible," I say quietly.
He doesn't respond right away. Then: "It wasn't heroic.
It was survival. I couldn't leave him there, and I sure as hell wasn't equipped to raise a baby.
I had no idea what I was doing. I fed him formula from the bodega and tried to figure out how to keep him from crying all night. Almost lost my damn mind."
I can picture it. A younger version of him, worn out, unsure, angry at the world, and yet holding a baby to his chest like that was the one thing that mattered.
"It was Uncle Viktor who showed up when I needed it most," he goes on. "Said I couldn't raise a child in that dump with a target on my back."
I nod. "Because of your job."
"Yeah. I'd been promoted to enforcer by then. Made a lot of enemies. Viktor was worried. He values family above everything. Always has. His wife was the one who helped the most. She used to rock Pasha to sleep when I couldn't stop him crying. Changed him. Fed him. Loved him like he was her own."
"She sounds amazing."
"She was. We miss her."
The quiet that follows is heavier but not bad. Just real.
"And the rest of them?" I ask gently. "Your family?"
He nods. "Everyone pitched in. It wasn't perfect, but it worked. I couldn't have done it alone."
My throat tightens, but I don't cry. I just let myself sink deeper into the comfort of being held by someone who has fought for something bigger than himself.
"I didn't know that," I whisper. "About all of you. What it's really like being part of... all this."
He doesn't say anything, but I know he's listening.
"I used to imagine what it would be like to have that kind of family," I say. "Not the blood kind. The real kind. People who show up. Who don't disappear."
He pulls me in tighter. "You have it now."
I nod into his chest, the weight of his promise settling somewhere deep. Warm and heavy and solid.
I don't say anything right away, but in my head, I make a quiet promise back: I will earn my place here. Not just as Nikolai's wife, but as a part of this strange, dangerous, fiercely loyal family. I will be someone they choose to keep, not just someone they were forced to accept.
We stay like that for a while. Steady breathing and warmth between us. The kind that doesn't ask for anything except to exist.
Eventually, I feel myself start to drift, feeling safer than I ever have in all my life.