Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
NIKOLAI
Sofiya is cradled in my arms as I climb the stairs, her cold, fragile body pressed tightly against mine. She’s no longer shivering as violently as she was in the woods, but her skin still feels like ice.
The image of her crumpled form—her dress torn and muddy—is seared into my mind. It’s something I won’t be able to erase anytime soon.
She’s wearing a flimsy sundress and slip-on shoes, the worst possible choice for venturing into the woods. I’d question her sanity if I didn’t already understand her reasoning. She was trying to get away from me, looking for a way to escape. I don’t blame her for that. She hates me for using her to hurt her family.
Husband or not, I’m the monster holding her against her will. But monsters aren’t supposed to feel this way—destroyed by the sight of their captive in pain.
My staff shoot me alarmed looks as we pass, but I ignore them. Yelena rushes up to me, her face etched with worry. “What happened? Is Sofiya okay?”
“Call Dr. Safin,” I order, not breaking stride. “Send her to my bedroom when she arrives.”
My bedroom. Soon to be our bedroom because I’m not taking any fucking chances with her anymore. She is my wife and belongs in my bed. But we can have that discussion once she’s healthy.
Yelena's eyes widen, but she nods and hurries off.
Sofiya shifts, her breath warm against my neck. “P-please don’t make a big fuss. Honestly, I’m okay.”
I hate how pale her face is and how weak her voice sounds. “You’re not. Now, I’m going to take care of you.”
Sofiya is silent as I carry her into my bedroom, her small frame quaking in my arms. It makes me so fucking mad to see her this way. I can still feel the cold radiating from her skin.
I head straight for the en suite and turn up the heat as high as it goes. When I release her onto a little stool in the corner of the room, I make sure to cover her shoulders with several thick, luxurious towels.
She continues to shake and stare at me as I focus on drawing her a bath, getting the water temperature just right. The tub is big enough for both of us, and I intend to get in with her.
As the water is running, I duck into my bedroom and grab a bottle of water from beside my bed. Striding back into the bathroom, I find her leaning against the wall, her eyes half-closed. “A b-bath isn’t necessary. Wrap me in a blanket, and I’ll be fine.”
She stiffens as my hand trails down her cheek. “Jesus, Sofiya, we need to warm you up now. Either get in the bath, or we both get into my bed naked, and I use my body to warm you up.”
Her jaw drops, but she doesn’t realize how deadly serious I am. I open the bottle of water and cup the back of her head. She reaches for it, but I pull it out of her grasp.
“Drink,” I say to her, unwilling to argue.
She does, gulping down the water like she’s been stranded in the desert. When she puts the bottle down, she shoots me a defiant look. “You’re very bossy, you know that?”
I can’t help but smirk. “Comes with the territory. Now, clothes off and into the bath.”
“I’ll get in the bath once you leave.”
“And risk a chance of you falling? I don’t think so. And for the record, you’re as stubborn as I’m bossy.”
She sighs, her eyes glassy with pain and exhaustion. Fuck, I’ve wasted enough time arguing with her. If she’s going to make this difficult, I’ll have to take over. “Get undressed now, Sofiya. Your lips are blue.”
“Turn around… please.”
I do as she asks, but when I hear a quiet whimper, her modesty is the last thing on my mind.
I’m in front of her in a flash. “What happened? What is it?”
“My hands. They’re so stiff. I can’t undo the buttons.” Her voice trembles, and the look on her face cracks something inside me.
“Fuck,” I mutter, dropping to my knees. I reach for the top button of her soaked dress, my fingers brushing her skin.
The fabric clings to her curves as I peel it off her. Then I reach for the clasp of her bra. My pulse spikes as I unhook it and let the lace fall to the floor.
“Hold on to me,” I say, steadying her as I kneel to slide her panties down her legs. My knuckles graze the curve of her thigh. I avert my eyes; the last thing I need is for her to notice me pitching a tent.
She steps out of the pile of clothes, her arms instinctively wrapping around her torso.
“It’s okay,” I murmur softly.
I slip my arms under her knees and around her back, lifting her easily. The tub is filled, steam curling in delicate swirls.
“This again,” she quips softly, and I’m glad she’s well enough to crack jokes.
I lower her into the water, her body sinking beneath the warm surface. A soft gasp escapes her lips, and her shivers subside as the heat works through her.
Taking care to prop her injured foot on the rim of the tub, I place a folded towel under her calf. Thankfully, it’s the ankle without the tracking device. Her soft murmur of satisfaction stirs something primal in me, but fuck, I’m not going there right now.
I don’t think twice before yanking my shirt over my head. My belt and pants follow, hitting the floor in a pile along with my shoes. Finally, I strip off my boxer briefs and step into the tub behind her. Days ago, she teased me about how often I got naked in front of her. Those other times, I was having fun. This time, I’m not.
The water laps against my skin as I pull her back against me. My arms wrap around her waist, her bare skin slick against mine.
“Better?” I murmur against her ear.
She nods faintly and relaxes against me. “So much better.”
I hate how close of a call that was. Heads will roll. But first, I need to take care of my wife.
My wife.
Sofiya fits perfectly into the curve of my frame. I run my hands up and down her arms, trying to chase the last of the chill away and steady her nerves.
I bury my face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the clean scent of her skin. “When I couldn’t find you, I almost lost it.”
Sofiya looks back at me. Her lashes lower, but not before I catch a flicker of hurt. “Because I’m your bargaining chip?”
I shake my head, cupping her face with one hand. “No.”
Her jaw tightens. “I don’t believe you.”
My lips crash against hers, the taste of salt and rain lingering on her skin. Her breath mingles with mine, warm and uneven, setting my pulse racing. I’m supposed to be unbreakable, a man without a weakness. Yet here I am, fucking powerless to resist her.
A knock on the bathroom door is followed by a familiar voice. “Nikolai, it’s Dr. Safin. Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
The doctor swings the door open, surprise flickering in her expression at finding me and Sofiya in the bath—a look she quickly tries to mask.
With her hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun and glasses perched on her nose, she looks as professional as she is. Dr. Safin doesn’t bother with small talk—she’s here because she’s the best money can buy, and I pay her a fortune to be at my beck and call.
Her eyes settle on Sofiya, giving her a quick, clinical once-over. “What happened?”
“She was lost in the woods for hours. Hurt her ankle, and was freezing when I found her.” The guilt still presses down on me.
The doctor nods and starts to unpack her equipment. “Can I have the room, Mr. Zhukov?”
“She’s my wife. I’m not leaving,” I say firmly.
Dr. Safin blinks rapidly, caught off guard. My marriage is obviously news to her.
Sofiya’s hand finds mine under the water. “It’s okay, Niko. I already feel better. Give us a few minutes. I need some privacy.”
Fuck. I hate the idea of leaving her, but she called me ‘Niko’ for the first time—and with the look she’s giving me, I can’t say no.
I point a finger at the doctor. “You have twenty minutes. And she sleeps in my bed tonight.”
“Of course,” she responds as I rise from the water, taking care to be gentle. The doctor averts her eyes as I leave the bath and wrap a towel around my waist.
“I’m serious. I’m putting you on a timer,” I say, holding up my phone.
I find Emil pacing in my office like a restless animal. The moment he sees me, he freezes, hands clenched at his sides.
“Sofiya’s fine, right? Yelena said she didn’t need to go to the hospi?—”
I don’t let him finish. Grabbing the front of his shirt, I slam my fist into his face.
“Fuck!” He presses a hand to his bloody nose. “I said I’m sorry.”
Anger courses through me, and I press my fingers to my temples. “Keeping Sofiya safe was your only job. How the fuck did you screw it up?”
He glares at me. “She snuck off when I was distracted by Igor. I told her not to wander off outside without me, but she doesn’t listen to instructions all that well.”
“Watch your fucking mouth,” I spit, my face inches from his. I suck in a deep breath and step back from him, attempting to calm my nerves. “And what the fuck do you mean you were distracted by Igor?”
“He stopped by with paperwork for you. What was I supposed to do, blow him off?”
Since when does Igor swing by to drop off paperwork? But I don’t have time for this right now. I only have one priority, and she’s waiting for me upstairs.
I shake my head. “You ask me for more responsibility but can’t even handle the most basic fucking job.”
He sneers. “I’m not a babysitter, Nikolai. If you wanted her under lock and key, you should’ve put her in a cage.”
I grab him by the collar and shove him into the wall with enough force to rattle the frames nearby. “You think this is a joke? Say something like that again, and you’ll find out just how expendable you really are.”
I release him and take a step back, breathing hard. He doesn’t know when to back down—he never has. I used to think that fire would make him invaluable once he matured, but now it feels more like a liability.
“I don’t offer second chances, but I’m giving you one because of our history. If anything happens to Sofiya again on your watch—if she gets so much as a fucking paper cut—there won’t be a next time. Do you understand?”
His gaze drops to the floor, a defiant curl to his lips. “Yes, pakhan.”
I run a hand over my face, trying to tamp down the frustration simmering in my gut. “Don’t make me regret the decision to trust you.”
He glances away for a moment before forcing himself to meet my eyes again. “I won’t.”
I watch him leave, tension rolling off his back like steam. Emil is arrogant and headstrong—a lot like Sergey was.
I’ve killed one brother in this lifetime. I’d prefer not to kill another.