Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
SOFIYA
The room spins, and my chest constricts as if the air has been stolen from my lungs. I flatten my back against the wall to steady myself. He doesn’t react. His face remains calm, unnervingly composed.
“Nikolai.” My voice trembles as his name passes between my lips.
“That’s right.” A flicker of satisfaction crosses his expression.
I shake my head so hard I feel my brain rattle around. What the hell is happening? I went out tonight to celebrate and allowed myself one impulsive decision. And somehow, that choice led me straight to him .
Nikolai Zhukov.
The man who saved me. The man I’ve fantasized about. The man I just had sex with in a bathroom. Who somehow thinks we’re married.
“I’m not your wife,” I insist. It's the only thing I can think of to say.
His gaze darkens, the shadows in his expression growing deeper. “Can you be sure of that?”
Can I?
My mind spins, sifting through all the information I’ve stored away over the years. “Th-there was no marriage to annul. The lawyers said it wasn’t legal, that the certificate was never submitted.”
“I’ll ask you again. Are you sure about that?”
I’m not sure of anything right now, but I refuse to accept what he’s saying. “You’re lying. Why would you marry me? I’m useless to you.”
He adjusts the cuff of his sleeve as if we’re simply having a chat. “I married you for leverage over the Syndicate. As sister-in-law to one of the most powerful men in the Russian underworld, you’re quite valuable.”
I notch my chin up. “It doesn’t matter. I was tricked into this… forced. It can’t be legal.”
He shrugs. “True, but I made it happen anyway. That’s what men like me do: force our will on others.” He trails a finger down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “And the best part is, after five long years, we finally consummated our marriage.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks at the reminder. It’s a mistake I’ll take to the grave but I can’t focus on that right now. I need to keep my wits about me because he’s obviously unhinged.
“Why do this?” I ask. “What is it you want from the Syndicate?”
Shadows cross his face, his jaw taut. “Roman and I are at an impasse over a deal. He needs a little incentive to see things my way. Taking you to live with me and making our marriage known to the Syndicate will help him come around.”
A sick feeling settles in my gut. Does he seriously believe that taking me will make a difference? Yes, Roman cares about me and would do anything for Liza, but the Syndicate’s a massive machine. I’m not the bargaining chip Nikolai thinks I am. And there’s no way in hell I’ll allow him to use me more than he already has.
I lift my chin. “I don’t care what you say. I won’t go anywhere with you willingly. My… my guards are downstairs, and if they don’t find me soon, they’ll rip apart this place looking for me.”
He gives me a nice try smile. “I think we both know that’s not true.”
I swallow hard. I could tell him my friends will start to worry, but I don’t think he’ll care. This situation has gone from bad to worse. My panic sharpens into resolve. I came out tonight to celebrate, and now my future is about to be yanked away. Well, fuck that.
I lift my foot and slam my heel down hard on his toes. The impact is followed by a hiss of pain. He swears a blue streak, and I take the opportunity to spin around and unlock the door. Before I can go anywhere, his arms wrap around me from behind, locking me in place.
“Don’t even think ab?—”
I throw my head back, my skull colliding with his nose. Pain explodes through my head, but it’s worth it. He grunts, loosening his grip enough for me to twist free.
I dart through the door, heading straight for the nearest staircase. Behind me, the bathroom door slams open, and Nikolai’s footsteps echo like gunfire, chasing after me.
Adrenaline floods my body, and I take the stairs two at a time. At the bottom, I veer into the main club, throwing myself headfirst into the chaos of the dance floor. The DJ has the crowd at its peak, the bass pounding so hard I feel it in my bones. Everyone’s drunk, making it easier to slip through the crowd.
I pray like hell Nikolai won’t spot me in this sea of people. I keep moving and don’t stop until I find a dark corner to hide in. Pressing myself against the wall, I try to steady my breathing, my heart hammering in my ears. I may have lost him for now, but I’m sure he’s relentless. A man like him probably has men swarming this place.
And then, a realization slams into me like a freight train—my clutch is gone, left behind in the bathroom. My phone, my money, everything I need is in there. Forcing down the rising panic, I focus on what to do next. Getting out of here is priority number one. Finding somewhere safe to call Roman or Samuil is priority two. Somehow, I’ll also have to let my friends know I’m okay.
At least I don’t see Nikolai or anyone who looks like his crew lurking nearby. And the club’s exit isn’t far from where I am. I can dash out of here unnoticed.
One more glance over my shoulder, and then?—
An arm snakes around my waist, yanking me flush against a hard body.
“So you fuck me and run? Is that how it’s going to be?” Nikolai’s breath warms my ear, tightening the knot of fear coiled between my ribs.
“Let me go,” I demand, my voice barely audible over the music. “I don’t deserve this.”
“Deserve? No, you don’t deserve it. But it isn’t personal.”
His grip tightens like a python coiling around its prey. One arm pins me in place while the other extends in front of me, holding up a phone. Horror fills me when I see what’s on the screen. Daria and Alex. They’re standing in the VIP section, talking. Alex glances at his watch, his face tense.
“Your friends are worried about you,” Nikolai taunts. “And they should be. But they should also worry about themselves. I’ve got a man trailing them, and if you don’t do as I say, they’ll pay the price.”
The blood drains from my face, and tears blur my vision. I stare at the screen, horrified. I’ve heard Roman talk about Nikolai—how he’s only become more dangerous—more ruthless, calculating, willing to burn the world down to get what he wants.
My knees wobble, and I curl forward. If he weren’t holding me up, I’d collapse.
All my future plans of living in Berlin, dancing, and my freedom—it all evaporates in an instant.
“Are you going to glare at me the whole flight? Because it’s another half hour until we land in St. Petersburg. You might want to give that beautiful face of yours a break.”
Nikolai looks up briefly from his phone, where he’s been typing away since I was forced onto his private jet. He didn’t need a gun to my back to get me here, only the threat of harm to my friends.
He must have been watching me for long enough to know where I’d be tonight and that my friends are important to me. And he’s right—I won’t put them in danger. I believe him when he says he’ll hurt them. He’s demonstrated precisely what he’s capable of.
I can’t believe I once thought he was a decent person. My savior. I was so very wrong.
“I’ll glare at you if I want to,” I bite out, clutching the blanket tighter around my body.
I lean back, studying him.
He’s no longer wearing glasses. I guess they were for show. Without them, there’s nothing to soften his features. He looks savage. Harder than the man I met five years ago. Faint lines frame his eyes, and his near-black hair is grown out, just brushing his collar. His appearance might be more polished, but instead of dulling him, it only sharpens his edge.
“Suit yourself,” Nikolai rumbles, his voice calm. “Dirty looks don’t bother me, Sofiya. I’ve dealt with much worse in my life.”
I scoot forward in my seat, narrowing my gaze. Now that the initial shock is fading, I have so many questions. “How long were you watching me?”
He sets his phone down slowly and leans back in his seat, resting an ankle casually on the opposite knee. “Long enough.”
“That’s not an answer,” I snap. “Did you plan this all along? The bartender, the flirting… th-the sex.” A bitter taste rises in my throat. I’ll hate myself forever for falling into his trap so easily.
He takes me in, a slow, sexy grin curving his lips. It pisses me off how attractive he is. I try to ignore it, but it's like trying to block out the sun. Impossible. But hot doesn’t cancel out evil.
“My only agenda tonight was taking you. The sex…” He leans forward so I can’t miss a word he says. “Was a nice bonus. As was watching you dance for me at the club. I admit, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Blood rushes to my face, anger tightening my throat. “I thought you were the Zhukov brother with a shred of decency. But you’re not. You’re just as sick and twisted as Sergey was.”
His mouth flattens into a thin line, and the slightest flicker of something raw crosses his expression. It seems Sergey is a sensitive subject, something I file away for later.
He rests his elbows on his knees, eating up the space between us with his large frame. “You’re right. Sergey and I were not so different. Maybe the biggest difference between us is that I was willing to kill him before he killed me. That makes me worse than him, don’t you think?”
I don’t respond. Instead, I turn my attention out the window, where the first streaks of pale light creep across the horizon. Dawn is near. Has anyone noticed my absence yet? Probably not.
Before takeoff, Nikolai used my phone to text my friends, telling them I’d gone home with my hookup and not to worry. It’s out of character for me, but so was everything else I did tonight, so it may not throw up red flags.
A flight attendant glides into the cabin, wheeling a cart of food before stopping in front of us. “Breakfast,” she announces with a bright smile as if this scene is perfectly ordinary. Like I don’t have raccoon eyes, and I’m not curled into myself miserably.
“I’m not hungry,” I reply flatly, still looking out the window.
Nikolai straightens in his seat, a slow, deliberate movement that feels like a warning. “It wasn’t a question,” he says quietly.
I frown at him. “I said I’m not hungry.”
His voice is calm, but it carries an edge. “You’ll eat, Sofiya. Hungry or not. Or I’ll drag you into my lap and feed you myself. Is that what you want?”
The way he says it, low and full of intent, sends a shiver through me. My stomach tightens, and I know he’s not bluffing. I grab the tray the flight attendant hands me, glaring at him as I set it on the table.
“There,” I say, picking up a fork. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic.”
I shovel a forkful of eggs into my mouth, holding his stare as I chew. He doesn't touch his food, just sips at the orange juice she poured for us… and continues to watch me. “You’re my wife, Sofiya. That means you’re my responsibility. Whether you want it or not, I’m going to take care of you… in every way.”
His focus drifts to my lips, lingering long enough to make my pulse spike. What does he want from me? What will he expect? Will he make me submit, bend to his will? Will he keep me locked away or expect me to play the part of a doting wife? The way he looks at me, like he already owns me, makes my skin prickle with unease.
I don’t voice any of these questions out loud, too fearful of his response. “I don’t care what you say. Our marriage will never be real to me. I’ll never touch you again. You make me sick.”
His jaw flexes, his expression darkening. “I don’t force myself on women. I don’t need to. But considering how fast and hard you came in that bathroom, maybe you should think about making yourself available for conjugal visits.”
Heat floods my face as I lift my middle finger at him. It’s immature, but I don’t care.
His body shakes with quiet laughter. “Good to see how deeply I affect you.”
“If I could take back those five minutes, trust me, I would.”
“Oh, I could’ve gone all night. It was you who came all over my cock in record time.” His tone shifts, the teasing edge replaced by something heavier. “If you require a repeat performance, just say so, wife.”
I force myself to hold his stare, but something inside me breaks wide open. The same cracks I thought I’d sealed long ago. He’s doing what my parents did to me. He’s reduced me to a pawn, a means to an end.
“You act like my life doesn’t matter. You robbed me of my future. I was about to move to Berlin and live like a normal person. You stole that from me, and you couldn’t care less.”
His face hardens, the teasing edge gone. “I know this, moya sladost,” he says, his voice low and cutting. “And it still doesn’t matter to me. I don’t prioritize anyone’s life or well-being above my own, and you shouldn’t either.”
I shake my head, glaring at him. “What is it you want? What is this actually about?” When he doesn’t respond, I continue. “I have a right to know, don’t I? You’re ruining my life for your gain.”
He rubs a hand over his chin, his expression cool. “The minister of finance is about to hand me a string of casinos to run across Russia, but I won’t get the contract unless I secure Moscow.”
“Let me guess. The Syndicate doesn’t want you in their territory.”
He shrugs. “It’s a fair deal, but Roman and Pavel don’t see it that way. And quite honestly, it pisses me off that after everything, they have so little faith in me. It’s a slap in the face.” He leans back, his gaze steady. “So here we are. If they want you back, they’ll have to agree to my terms.”
Dread pools in my gut. It sounds like this situation is far more complicated than I’d hoped. “You’re wasting your time using me to get to Roman—or anyone, for that matter. The only thing you’re going to accomplish is getting yourself killed when the Belov Syndicate comes for you.”
He folds his arms in front of him, his broad shoulders pulling taut beneath his shirt. “The Syndicate won’t find you. The location of my estate is a well-guarded secret. And even if they did, your sister would never let Roman risk your safety in an attack.” His eyes bore into mine. “Follow my orders, and you’ll have nothing to worry about. If that’s a problem...” His lips curve into something wicked. “I’ll teach you how to follow orders. And believe me, I’ll enjoy every moment of it.”
A chill runs through me, but I’m too tired to continue this conversation. I doubt there’s anything I could say to change his mind. I pull the blanket tighter around me, wrapping it like armor, and lean my head against the window.