Chapter 37
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
SOFIYA
My call with Liza plays in my head for the rest of the day. I hope I haven’t made a mistake by involving her, but it felt like my only choice.
Even if she thinks I’ve lost my mind, I know she has my best interests at heart and will do whatever it takes to keep me safe. Roman, on the other hand, won’t be nearly as calm about any of this. That’s why I had to talk to Liza first. If anyone can get through to him, it’s her.
I don’t know how she’ll pull it off, but if she can manage to arrange a meeting where no one ends up dead, they’ll see things aren’t the same anymore. Niko is not who they think, at least not entirely.
Evening rolls around, and it’s time to get ready for our mysterious date tonight. Niko didn’t give me many details, but he did tell me to wear something special, and that’s what I’m going to do.
Niko had all my clothes moved into his bedroom, but I haven’t explored the walk-in yet since I’ve mostly worn yoga pants or summer dresses.
An idea pops into my head, and I can’t help but grin. I rummage through the racks until I find what I’m looking for. It was the last piece I tried on, one of the many things I bought purely for the joy of spending Niko’s money, but I never thought I’d have the opportunity to wear it.
I strip down to my underwear and slip the emerald dress over my head. The fabric is sheer and gauzy, clinging in all the right places, the deep V neckline showing just enough to tease, as does the dramatic slit up the side.
I stand in front of the mirror, biting my lip. Jesus, it’s sexier than I remember. Niko never did see me try it on at the boutique, so this will be his first look. And it’s one I hope he appreciates.
I step into the gold strappy heels Valeria suggested I pair with the dress, adding inches to my height and making my legs look longer than they are. I keep my makeup simple—a black lash and a bold red lip—a look my sister helped me perfect. That was always our thing, her doing my makeup while we gossiped. Hope flickers at the thought that we might do that together soon.
I leave my hair loose over my shoulders, the dark strands brushing against my back.
When I check my reflection in the mirror, I have to admit—I look good. The ankle monitor even adds a little edge to the whole look. But something pulls at my gut.
Niko is possessive, and this dress is bound to push his buttons, which is fine if we are alone, but just in case we're not, I reach for a shawl, wrapping it loosely around my shoulders. It softens the look and hides just enough cleavage to keep me from feeling completely exposed.
With one last glance in the mirror, I head downstairs.
“So, where exactly are we going?” My voice sounds high to my own ears as I glance at Emil’s profile from the backseat. He’s focused on the road, his expression tight.
“It’s a surprise, remember,” he says, shifting gears.
I let out a soft sigh, turning to the window. St. Petersburg sprawls before me, glittering under the streetlights.
My gaze drops to my lap, where my clutch sits, the ankle monitor visible beneath the hem of my dress. I smirk to myself. Only I could turn an accessory like this into part of an outfit.
Emil clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him. “Look, about what I said earlier, I was out of line.” He sighs, his hands tightening on the wheel. “Things are tense with the Azerbaijanis breathing down our necks. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“It’s fine,” I say, not wanting to drag it out. “I understand. Things are complicated right now. I don’t want to see anyone hurt either.”
He glances at me in the rearview mirror. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Before he can say more, his phone rings. He puts an earbud in to keep the conversation private and answers with a clipped, “Yeah, she is.” A long pause. “Don’t worry. It’s all worked out.”
I frown, glancing at Emil, but his expression is unreadable. Is it Niko on the phone? Is he asking about me? My heart races—part excitement, part nerves. I have no idea what tonight is about, and that only makes my anticipation sharper.
A few minutes later, we pull up behind a low-rise building. As soon as we park, the passenger door swings open, and Nikolai stands there, looking devastatingly handsome. Fitted black pants cling to his muscular thighs, and his dress shirt is unbuttoned just enough to hint at the ink covering his chest. His hair is tousled like he’s been dragging his hands through it, and his jaw is dusted with stubble, but it’s his eyes—those piercing, deep-blue eyes—that steal my breath.
He holds out his hand, and I take it, stepping out of the car. His gaze sweeps over me.
“You’re beautiful, moya sladost,” he murmurs.
A spark shoots through me at his words, and I grin. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
I clear my throat and take a quick look around. We're in the back alley of what appears to be a club, music spilling from under the door. He offers me his arm, and I slip mine through his, as he leads me through the back entrance, down a long, dark hallway.
“Are you finally going to tell me where we are and what we’re doing here?”
He smiles, his hand warm on my back, leading me through the halls. “This is one of the nightclubs I own. Tonight we’re closed to the public for a birthday party for one of my men.”
My head snaps toward him. “Does that mean I’m going to meet your people?”
“That’s exactly what it means.” His hand twines with mine. “I think it’s time everyone meets the pakhan’s wife, don’t you? If anything should happen to me, my men need to know who to lay down their life for.”
I shake my head, at a loss for words. “Are you sure? With the way things are going?—”
In a flash, he has me pushed up against the wall, his thigh wedged between my legs. His gaze narrows as he tips my chin so I can’t look elsewhere. “You. Are. My. Wife.” He lifts my hand and drops a kiss onto his tattoo. “One day, I’d like it if you wore my ring. Not just my mark.”
My heart takes off at a gallop in my chest, but I can’t help giving him sass, anyhow. “Does that mean you plan on asking me like a proper gentleman? Not just a savage who takes what he wants?”
He smirks. “Both.”
Then he crashes my lips against his, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth. My hands grip his shoulders as I pull him into me, kissing him back. My body is on autopilot, moving on instinct, fingers tunneling into his hair as his tongue plunges into my mouth, practically eating me alive.
When he pulls away from me, I'm gasping for air like a fish out of water, and he seems perfectly composed. “Now, we better join the party,” he growls, “because if I have to spend another minute alone with you, I’m going to fuck you against this wall.”
I bite my lip because that doesn't sound like a terrible idea.
With a possessive hand on my back, Niko leads me down a long hallway and up a flight of stairs. We stop in front of a door that, from the sounds of it, leads to the actual club. He pauses, taking in the shawl wrapped tightly around my shoulders. “Are you cold?”
Nerves settle in my gut. If I knew I’d be meeting his men, I wouldn’t have worn this, but there’s no point in calling attention to it now. I wrap it tighter around me.
“Uh, a little. Who is this party for?” I ask to change the subject.
“Stanislav. One of my lieutenants. You’ll meet him soon.” He stares into my eyes. “I told Igor I’m out of the casino deal today. Tomorrow, I’ll reach out to Roman. Not that it’ll be easy.”
Warmth fills me, but it’s tinged with the slightest bit of guilt. I should tell him about the stolen phone and the call to Liza. I will tomorrow. He may not be happy about it, but I owe him the truth.
I nod, and he grasps my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and leads me through the door into the main club. Subtle electronic music and the heat of a crowd greet us. The party is in full swing.
As we move through the room, the sea of people parts for us. Well, for Niko. People greet him with nods and respectful gestures, but they keep their distance, giving him the space he clearly commands. Nikolai dips his chin, acknowledging the people we pass. Curious gazes follow us, particularly me, and I find myself grateful for the anchor of his hand in mine.
At the far end of the room, we approach a small table that appears to be reserved for a select few. Everyone stands, and I suddenly feel nervous with all eyes on me. Nikolai pulls me into his side. The only person I recognize is Vadim.
“You remember, Vadim?” Niko asks.
“How could I forget? The cereal lover, right?”
Vadim makes a move to kiss the back of my hand. It’s about halfway to his lips when Niko scowls and clears his throat in warning.
“Nice to see you again,” he says, with a mischievous grin, letting my hand go. Vadim then introduces me to his friends, a blonde woman named Tatiana, and her sister, a redhead named Galina.
“Why don’t you take a seat? Vadim and I have a few people to talk business with first, but I’ll have champagne brought over. Loosen you up a bit before I introduce you to everyone.” He trails a hand down my arm, leaving little sparks in its wake.
As soon as we’re alone, both women give me their full attention.
“Okay, I've got to ask about you and Nikolai,” Galina says, leaning forward conspiratorially.
“Tell us everything. I mean, he’s been a confirmed bachelor for years, and then suddenly, he shows up with a wife? The sister-in-law of Roman Vasiliev, no less.” She rubs her hands together. “There's got to be a juicy tale there.”
Tatiana shoots her sister a look as glasses of champagne appear at our table. “Don’t be so nosy,” she scolds.
Galina rolls her eyes. “Give me a break. You know that’s all anyone here is talking about.”
Tatiana turns toward me. “I mean, we are curious, but I don’t want to pry into your business.”
I laugh. At least they’re being honest. “Let’s start with what you do know.”
“Not much,” Tatiana admits. “Nikolai went to Moscow and came home married to you. Everyone’s been tight-lipped, but I can assure you, all the single ladies in St. Petersburg had a good cry about it.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. I’m surprised that’s all that’s known about us, but I guess when the pakhan wants people to keep their mouths shut, they do.
Before I can say anything, Galina jumps in, resting her chin in her palm. “I bet it was a whirlwind romance. Love at first sight, swept off your feet, all that fairy tale stuff, right?”
I nearly choke on my champagne. If only they knew how far from a fairy tale this marriage started—more like a horror story, complete with a villain who's all too real—one whom I fell head over heels for.
“Not exactly,” I say, taking a sip for liquid courage. “Niko and I started as an arrangement, of sorts. It’s… complicated.”
Galina's eyes widen as if I’m about to spill some juicy gossip. “Complicated how?”
I fiddle with the stem of my glass, choosing my words carefully. “Let's just say the marriage wasn’t my choice.” I peer across the room and see him standing, talking to a group of men. When his eyes catch mine, he gives me a little wink, and my stomach does a summersault. “I feel differently now.”
Tatiana nods thoughtfully. “That’s the case with most bratva marriages. You’re just lucky that your husband’s not some old fart twice your age and three times your weight.” She makes a face. “Like my betrothed.”
Galina smirks. “Well, Nikolai is three times your size… but in a good way.”
We share a laugh, but when I look over at Tatiana, she looks down. “But aren’t you here with Vadim?” I ask.
“He’s just my older brother’s best friend. That’s the guy my parents promised me to.” She nods toward an older man scolding a waiter, his face twisted in irritation as he waves an empty glass in the air.
“I’m sorry,” I say, not even trying to sugarcoat it. “You guys come from a bratva family?”
Galina frowns. “Unfortunately. Once Tatiana is married off, I’m next. That’s why I’m having as much fun as possible until my parents force me kicking and screaming into a wedding dress.”
A warm hand skims down my back, stealing my attention. Nikolai leans in, his breath tickling my ear. “Ready for me to introduce you?”
I’m feeling nervous, but I agree, anyhow, and excuse myself, allowing Nikolai to lead me across the room.
“I’m going to introduce you to the birthday boy, Stanislav.”
As we approach, Stanislav, a man in his early thirties with sharp cheekbones and a neatly trimmed beard, rises from his seat, as do a dozen or so of the men around him.
“Pakhan,” they say nearly in unison and bow their heads in a sign of respect.
He allows them a moment, before he speaks again. “I want to introduce you to my wife,” he says. Nikolai clears his throat, and the room falls dead silent. “This is Sofiya. From this moment on, her life is as valuable as mine. You will protect her, obey her, and, if necessary, die for her.”
This isn't what I expected. Nikolai's hand tightens on my waist. “Any man who fails in this duty answers to me. You will treat her with the respect and care due to the wife of a pakhan, understood?”
A chorus of “Yes, boss” fills the air. They bow their heads, as they did for Nikolai a moment ago.
“Thank you,” I say, trying not to fidget with the end of my shawl. These men barely know me, yet they’ve vowed to protect me like I matter. It’s touching, but that kind of loyalty has its risks. If the Syndicate refuses to negotiate, if Nikolai and Roman can’t reach an agreement, it could cost them their lives.
It’s one more reason why I need to come clean with Niko tonight about my contact with Liza. I don’t want anyone hurt because of me.
“Happy birthday.” I direct that comment to Stanislav. “Quite a turn-out you have.”
It's true. The party is in full swing, and it's nice to be out in the world, talking and drinking. A small dance floor is off to the side with a few people enjoying themselves.
Stanislav gives me a broad smile. “Thank you for attending. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you. No man is more deserving of a beautiful woman by his side than our pakhan.” Apparently, everyone else agrees, with heads nodding and men stepping forward to shake Nikolai’s hand.
Nikolai wraps an arm around me. “I agree. My wife is very beautiful.”
I flush with pleasure but have no time to respond because Tatiana and Galina are waving to me from the dance floor.
“Enjoy yourself,” Niko whispers in my ear. “We still have some business to discuss.”
“Oh, you men and your important mafia business,” I tease, but I don’t mind taking the opening he provided. It’s been so long since I let loose.
Galina throws her arms around me as soon as I step onto the dance floor. I get the feeling she made quick work of that bottle of champagne.
“I love this song,” she announces loudly in my ear. It is a good song—a massive pop hit from last year over a techno beat. “Take off that stupid wrap and dance with us.”
Wrap? Right, the shawl hiding the super sexy dress I have on underneath. The one that seemed like a good idea earlier, but with a roomful of his men, I get the feeling it won’t be appreciated.
“No, that’s okay. I find it a little breezy in here.”
Tatiana laughs. “Breezy? Are you kidding, I’m dying.” She lifts her thick mane of hair off her neck.
“I’m good, honestly.” Both women shrug and continue to dance. It feels so good to let loose and move, to just enjoy myself like any other woman my age. I sway my hips to the beat, spinning slowly, letting the rhythm take over.
I glance at Nikolai, deep in conversation with Stanislav, but his eyes remain locked on me. His lips curve into a familiar smirk, and his raised brows remind me of the night we met at the club. Judging by the heat in his stare, he remembers, too.
“I’ve never seen the pakhan look at a woman the way he looks at you,” Tatiana half-yells in my ear to be heard over the thumping music. I flush. I doubt that’s true, but it still makes me feel good.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of blonde hair and a supermodel-like figure—Eva. She looks stunning, as always, her skin-tight black pants and halter top drawing attention with every step. She walks up to Nikolai and leans in, kissing him on both cheeks.
I know there’s nothing between them anymore—Niko told me as much—but I can’t help the prick of jealousy that creeps in. I liked being the one to hold his attention, the one he couldn’t look away from.
I realize I’ve stopped dancing when Tatiana touches my shoulder. “Everything okay? You need a drink or something?”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. My voice is tight, but I force myself to smile. “But yeah, maybe a drink’s a good idea.”
“No! You can’t leave yet. This is the best song.” Galina throws her head back and her arms in the air as the music shifts to a more sensual, hypnotic beat.
I glance at Nikolai, who’s still smiling at whatever Eva just whispered in his ear. A spark of defiance ignites in me. If he’s going to let himself get distracted, then I’ll just have to remind him exactly where his attention belongs.
“You know… it is a little warm in here,” I say, my tone light. With a flick of my wrist, I toss the shawl over a nearby chair.
Cool air glides over my skin, and I feel a rush of boldness. I sway to the music, rolling my hips in time with the beat.
Galina gives a low whistle. “Damn, you’ve been hiding that body all night. If I had a figure like yours, I’d live in that dress.”
Tatiana spins me, and I stumble into her, laughing as I catch my balance. The heat of the room and the pulse of the music crackle like electricity under my skin.
Galina nudges me, smirking. “You’re turning heads, you know that, right?”
I shrug, throwing her a mischievous smile. “Good.”
I sense his stare first—a simmering heat that sends a shiver through me. When I finally glance at him, Nikolai’s eyes are locked on me, dark with a dangerous edge. Welp. I’ve definitely got his attention.
I look away first, tossing my hair over my shoulder, my heart pounding as I keep dancing. I’ve poked the bear; now I have to see it through.
“Uh-oh.” Galina’s voice is barely above a whisper, but I don’t miss the warning. My head snaps up just in time to catch Nikolai storming toward me, his jaw clenched, his arms rigid at his sides, and his fists curled tightly.
“Sorry,” Tatiana whispers with a grimace as she and Galina quickly retreat. So much for girls sticking together. Not that I can blame them. Nikolai looks absolutely lethal.
The dancers step aside as he cuts straight through the room, clearing a path to me. I keep swaying, pretending I don’t notice him until he’s right in front of me. My nose brushes against his solid chest, but I refuse to look up.
“What are you doing?” he asks with a lethal calm that sends a shiver of both fear and excitement through me.
I tilt my chin up, feigning innocence. “Dancing. What are you doing?”
“Wondering why my wife thought it was a good idea to wear that sexy little number,” he says roughly. “Especially when she knows I don’t like sharing.” His gaze drags over me possessively. When his eyes linger on my breasts, my nipples tighten—and he notices.
Is it my imagination, or has the room gone completely silent? My hands land on my hips. “You didn’t tell me where we were going. I thought tonight would be just us.”
Before I can blink, his hand wraps around my arm, and he’s leading me off the dance floor. The air feels charged, and I catch glimpses of men glancing away as Nikolai cuts through the room with me in tow.
“Where are we going?” I ask, unable to hide the tremor in my voice.
“To show you what happens when you act like a brat, wife.”