Chapter 8 Nikolai
NIKOLAI
She's avoiding me.
I can feel it in the way she hesitates at the top of the stairs.
In the careful silence of her footsteps as she finally descends.
Good girl.
She should be wary of me after last night.
I sit at the head of the long dining table, a cup of black coffee in one hand, my phone in the other as I scan through emails that don't interest me nearly as much as the woman currently hovering in my doorway.
I don't look up from my phone. Let her think I'm distracted. Let her believe she has a moment to compose herself before I acknowledge her presence.
But I'm aware of everything.
Of what she’s wearing. The way her fitted jeans hug her curves. The way her hair falls over one shoulder.
The slight hitch in her breathing when she sees me.
"Good morning, malyshka." I set my phone down and finally look at her, letting my gaze travel slowly from her face down to her boots and back up again. Taking my time. "Sleep well?"
Pink blooms across her cheeks.
There it is.
That delicious flush that tells me she's thinking about last night. About watching me. About whatever dreams followed her back to that bed after she fled.
"Fine," she says, her voice clipped as she moves toward the sideboard where my housekeeper, Katya, has laid out breakfast.
I lean back in my chair and watch her avoid looking at me as she fills her plate with mechanical precision. Berries. Pancakes. Honey.
She joins me at the table but is silent as she plays with the pancake in front of her.
"You know," I say conversationally, taking a sip of coffee, "most people would at least pretend to make conversation over breakfast."
She shoots me a look dripping with venom and defiance. "Most people aren't being held prisoner by a murderer."
I smile. "Fair point."
She stabs a strawberry with her fork, and I have to suppress a laugh.
"Did you find what you were looking for last night?" I ask.
Her fork freezes halfway to her mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"No?" I set my cup down. "So you didn't leave your room after I explicitly told you to stay put? Didn't wander through my home looking for an escape route?"
"I was looking for the bathroom."
"There's one attached to your room."
"I got lost."
"In a straight hallway?"
Her big brown eyes fix firmly on mine. And I see the defiance there.
"What do you want me to say?" she asks. "That I was trying to escape? Fine. I was. But you already knew that."
"I did." I pick up my coffee again, watching her over the rim. "Just like I know you didn’t find an exit last night. But you found something else just as good."
The pink in her cheeks deepens, and I love the way she has to look away. "I was just—"
"Just what?" I interrupt, my voice dropping lower. "Just couldn't help yourself?"
She opens her mouth, then closes it again.
I stand slowly and move around the table toward her.
She stays frozen, watching me approach with those eyes that are equal parts terrified and hungry.
I stop beside her chair and lean down. Close enough that I can see her pulse hammering in her throat. My breath brushes against the soft shell of her ear. “It’s okay, solnyshko, I like it when you watch.”
Her lips drop open.
And I don’t doubt my words hit her somewhere sensitive and warm and achy.
She clears her throat as I reach for my suit jacket hanging on the back of her chair. I shrug it on before sitting across from her again.
"What happens now?" she asks quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean..." She gestures helplessly between us. "What am I supposed to do? Do I just sit in my room all day? I don't know what is expected of me."
"I have work to attend to," I say, checking my watch. "Calls to make. Business that won't wait just because I've acquired a beautiful houseguest. So you will need to entertain yourself."
Her eyes narrow slightly at the word beautiful but she doesn't rise to the bait.
"What kind of work do you do?" she asks.
The question is cautious but still probing. She's trying to understand me. To get a read on who I really am beyond the monster who kidnapped her.
If only she knew who I really am.
Of just how much danger she's sitting across from right now.
But that wouldn’t work in my favor. Not if I want my plan to succeed.
So I give her the same answer I give everyone who asks.
"This and that," I say with a slight smile. "Various imports and exports."
"That's wonderfully vague," she says, unimpressed.
"It's meant to be."
She studies me for a long moment, those intelligent eyes trying to piece together the puzzle. I can almost see her mind working, cataloging details and building a profile.
Good luck, malyshka. Smarter people than you have tried and failed.
"You really are in the mafia, aren't you," she says quietly.
I take a sip of my coffee, considering how much to tell her. "Bratva."
"Bratva," she repeats, testing the word on her tongue. Her gaze sweeps across the dining room, taking in the expensive furnishings. "And you're like, really high up in it, right?"
"The highest."
She brings her eyes back to me. "So, like, the king?"
"Pakhan," I correct her, a hint of a smile playing on my lips as I add, "But you can call me a king if you like."
She gives me an exasperated look, the kind that’s one breath away from an eye roll.
Then she frowns as she contemplates what that means, and I watch her gnaw the inside of her mouth.
"And that man you killed," she says finally. "The one in the alley—"
"He wasn't a very good man."
Her eyes meet mine, and there's something sharp in them now. "But neither are you."
"Good thing I got to him first, then."
She stares at me for a long moment, then asks, “I’m I trouble, aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
The word lands between us like a thrown knife.
“Are you going to kill me?”
It’s such a calm question from someone whose pulse is sprinting.
“If I wanted you dead,” I say, “you wouldn’t be sitting at my breakfast table eating my pancakes.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t reply. She’s trying to process everything.
I lean back in my chair and decide to redirect the conversation.
"You have the freedom of the entire lodge," I tell her, standing and collecting my phone. "Explore. Read. There's a library on the second floor with more books than you could finish in a year. The kitchen is fully stocked if you get hungry. Katya will be here if you need anything."
“Katya?”
“My housekeeper.” I button my jacket. “My loyal housekeeper.”
I move toward the door, then pause and look back at her. She's watching me with those big brown eyes, still trying to figure out if I'm the monster or the man.
Unfortunately for her, I am both.
"You can go anywhere you like," I add, letting a wicked grin spread across my face. "Except my den. I will be working in there today. I trust you remember where that is."
The blush returns to her cheeks immediately.
"I wouldn't dream of disturbing you," she says, but her voice wavers.
I give her a slow, deliberate smile."Enjoy your day, Holly. I'll see you at dinner."
I walk away, leaving her sitting there in the dining room, flushed and confused and thinking about me.
Exactly as planned.
This is going to be easier than I thought.