Chapter 13
I wait in the bedroom until I hear the front door shutting behind Nikolai.
The silence of the apartment is almost worse than his presence.
Walking through the living room, my eyes drift to the mountain of luggage cluttering the foyer, and his order echoes in my ears.
Use the time to put away your things. It’s a ridiculous command.
I have never had to put my own belongings away.
At home, staff managed every suitcase, the placement of every hanger, and the folding of every blouse.
But there is no staff here. Just me and his command…
A command I actually intend to follow. Just not as he expects.
Grabbing a suitcase, I immediately wish I had one of my brother’s muscle-bound idiots to carry it for me.
It has to weigh almost as much as I do. With determination burning in my veins, I grit my teeth and drag it out of the room.
“You said unpack,” I grumble, pulling the suitcase past the master bedroom.
In the guest room on the other side of the hall, I let the suitcase fall to the floor with a heavy thud. “But you didn’t say where.”
I unzip it and flip the lid open with more force than necessary, relishing in how good this tiny act of defiance feels. Every item hung or tucked away in the large walk-in closet is a minuscule cry of victory.
By the time I finish, my arms ache and sweat beads at my temples, but satisfaction hums through me at the sight of my things neatly arranged in my bedroom. I can hardly pull the smile from my face as I shower and get ready for dinner, like the compliant little wife Nikolai is expecting.
Is having a drink waiting for him too much? Yeah… going full Stepford wife is probably too obvious.
The lock clicks on the front door, and I slide from my stool at the kitchen island, smoothing my hot pink Valentino mini dress over my thighs as I find my footing in my matching stilettos.
Nikolai strides in, his tie askew yet somehow still looking immaculate.
And tempting. He stops in his tracks when he sees me.
His eyes skim the length of my body, either surprised I listened or enjoying the view before him.
“Ready,” I chirp with a huge smile before he has a chance to say anything.
His lips curve up faintly with his approval. “You look good when you listen.”
“Bite me.” Lifting my clutch from the counter, I cross my arms over my chest.
He chuckles, the dark rumble rising from deep in his chest. “Is that a request or an offer, my little pet?”
Traitorous heat flushes my cheeks, and I shove past him before he can notice, my heels clicking furiously against the hardwood floor. He follows immediately behind me into the hallway. “Up,” he corrects when I reach for the down button of the elevator.
“Up?” I echo in confusion, pushing the button. When the cab arrives, he swipes a card granting access to the top floor. The elevator doors open, and Nikolai lets us into the apartment like he owns the place. Maybe he does.
“You must be Ani!” a radiant redhead exclaims as we step past the foyer, lightly pushing Enzo’s hand from the small bump of her belly. Her smile is warm and genuine, disarming me as she steps forward to hug me. “Welcome. I’m Eavan.”
I freeze. Hugging is not in my nature, but she pulls me in so tightly, I find myself awkwardly patting her back. “Uh. Thanks.”
Nikolai’s hand brushes the small of my back, guiding me forward when Eavan releases me. His touch is a brief yet firm reminder to behave myself. I bristle, but I don’t shrug him off.
“About time,” a smooth, dark voice teases from the corner of the room. I turn to find Cillian standing at the bar, sipping an amber-colored drink. His free hand is possessively laced with the beautiful, slim brunette’s standing next to him.
“Hey, Ani. I’m Madison.” Her smile is small, but kind. Thank God she isn’t a hugger, too. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I glance briefly at Nikolai and arch a brow. “All good things, I hope.”
“Depends who you ask,” Enzo snickers, earning a sharp elbow from Eavan and a laugh from Cillian.
Nikolai is much less amused as he pulls out a chair for me at the dining room table, waiting silently until I sit.
The gesture is polite on the surface, but I know better.
It’s not a gentlemanly act. It’s control.
The food is decadent, course after course of Italian dishes that I barely touch.
Not wanting to be here or part of his family, my appetite is poor.
The men talk business in clipped sentences, half of it a code I don’t understand.
The women chatter about lighter things—baby names, clothes, and an upcoming coffee date.
Eavan keeps trying to include me, asking about Armenia, my favorite foods, and my family.
Madison is quieter, but I catch her watching me with a thoughtful, knowing gaze.
Surrounded by laughter and chatter, I’m suffocating. I am too aware of Nik’s presence beside me—silent, controlled, and somehow dominating every inch of the air we are sharing. Every time I shift in my seat, his eyes follow. Every time I open my mouth, his attention sharpens.
“So, tell me…” My voice is soft and sweet as I interrupt Madison’s story about some drunk customer at the family strip club. Which I guess is a step up from a family brothel. “Did all of you marry women without their consent, or is Nikolai just the charming catch of the group?”
The table stills, and the air freezes before the sass finishes dripping from my tongue. Eavan blinks blindly as Enzo chokes on his food. Madison hides a smile behind her glass, and Cillian leans back in his chair, grinning like we’re the best entertainment he has had in weeks.
Slowly setting down his fork, Nik clenches his teeth so hard that the muscles tic in his jaw. “Careful,” he whispers slowly.
“No,” I shoot back, dropping my fork to my plate with a ting.
“I can’t sit here and act like this is normal.
Like I wanted any of this.” My hands gesture at his family staring back at me from around the table.
The silence is deafening, and for a second, I think I’ve gone too far.
I tense, thinking Nik will drag me out of here, kicking and screaming—proving every one of my worst fears.
“Jesus Christ, Nik.” Cillian laughs, loud and genuine. “Looks like you finally met your match.”
A smug smirk pulls at the corner of Enzo’s lips. “She’s got teeth.”
“Fangs,” Cillian corrects.
Nikolai doesn’t join their laughter. His eyes lock on mine—dark and heated—hungrily burning through me.
His hand slides under the table, and his warm palm brushes against my leg.
He curls his fingers tightly around my knee, squeezing just hard enough to cause my breath to catch in my throat.
The corners of his mouth curl into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he leans toward my ear.
“Watch yourself,” he whispers soft enough that only I can hear.
“Or you will be finding out exactly what happens to disobedient little pets.”
Heat prickles down my spine, a mixture of fury and dark need coursing through my veins. I take a slow, measured breath to slow my racing heart. “What?” I shoot back sweetly, my voice carrying just enough for the whole room to hear. “Will you swat me with a rolled-up newspaper?”
Enzo grins wide, his gaze flicking between the two of us.
It’s not judgmental, but knowing. Nikolai doesn’t loosen his grip.
If anything, his hold tightens. His thumb strokes slow circles against the bare skin of my thigh.
While his face is a composed, mask of calm, his eyes burn hotter than his touch.
The rest of dinner is a battle between us.
Every barb I toss after that—every sugar-coated insult, every deliberate provocation—is answered by the unrelenting weight of his hand on my thigh.
The repeated squeeze of his fingertips reminds me which of us holds the reins.
By dessert, my pulse is erratic, my nerves are frayed, and the smugness radiates off him.
When we finally leave, Nikolai holds the door open for me.
I sweep past him with my chin held high.
He lets me enjoy it until the elevator doors slide closed.
His arm snakes around my waist, and his hand splays across my stomach, pulling me firmly against him.
My back hits his chest with a thud. Holding me flush to him, his lips brush against my ear, and he whispers, “You think you embarrassed me tonight?”
Refusing to look at him, I smugly retort, “Didn’t I?”
A dark laugh rises from his lungs and vibrates against my back. “No, little pet. You just made me want to earn your obedience even more.”
The elevator dings, and he steps back, slipping his hands into his pockets, calm as ever. Like he didn’t just set my entire body on fire with one whispered threat. Fuck, I hate him. But God help me, I hate myself more for how much part of me wants him to keep that promise.