Chapter 37 Aria
ARIA
Ishove away from Nikolai so violently that water explodes over the tub's edge, cascading across the marble floor in a miniature tsunami.
My body still thrums with the aftershocks of what we just did, which makes his request feel like a knife sliding between my ribs.
I climb out on legs that shake with more than exertion, wrapping myself in a towel that suddenly feels as substantial as tissue paper.
"No." The word tears from my throat, raw and jagged.
He rises from the water like some ancient god, droplets streaming down the tattooed landscape of his body, and I force myself to look away. I can't think when I'm looking at him, can't hold onto my fury when my traitorous body still remembers the feel of his hands on my skin.
"Aria." His voice carries that rough edge that does things to my pulse I refuse to acknowledge. "Listen to me."
"I did listen." I spin to face him, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "I listened to you ask for proof that this baby is yours. After everything. After I've given up everything to be here, you still don't trust me."
"It's not about trust." He takes a step toward me, water pooling at his feet.
"Don't." I hold up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. "Don't you dare tell me this isn't about trust. That's exactly what it's about. You're asking me to prove I didn't betray you. That I'm not some gold digger who got pregnant by someone else and decided to trap a billionaire."
His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. "That's not what I think."
"Then why?" My voice cracks on the question, and I hate myself for the weakness. "Why do you need a test if you believe me?"
He moves closer, ignoring my earlier command, and I find myself backing up until my spine hits the cool tile wall. He cages me in with his body, his hands braced on either side of my head, and the heat radiating from his skin makes my breath come faster.
"Because my captains whisper," he says, his accent thickening with emotion he's trying to suppress. "Because the Bratva council questions how a man they know was left sterile suddenly has a woman pregnant. Because Matvey Ignatyev is using that doubt as a weapon to undermine my authority."
"So this is about your reputation." The accusation hangs between us like smoke. "About maintaining your image as the all-powerful Pakhan."
"This is about protecting our child." His thumb brushes my cheekbone, the touch so gentle it makes my chest ache. "About legitimizing the heir so no one can question their right to what I've built. About silencing enemies who would use uncertainty to destroy everything."
I search his face for deception, for the cold calculation I've seen him use on others, but all I find is exhaustion that mirrors the bone-deep weariness pulling at my own limbs. His eyes hold mine with an intensity that steals what little breath I have left.
"If I refuse?" My voice comes out barely above a whisper.
Something flickers across his features, too quick to identify before his mask slams back into place. "Then I'll respect your decision. But the whispers won't stop. The doubt will fester. And when our child is born, there will always be questions about whether they're truly mine."
The brutal honesty in his words cuts deeper than any lie could.
I think about the Bratva wives I've met, the way they assessed me with calculating precision, measuring whether I'm worthy of being in their world.
I think about the captains who congratulated Nikolai with carefully neutral expressions that couldn't quite hide their skepticism.
I think about Matvey's text, the venom in those words about looking forward to meeting the child "if it's yours. "
This is the price of his world. Privacy and trust are luxuries we can't afford, not when enemies circle like sharks scenting blood in the water.
"I hate this." The admission costs me something, strips away another layer of the independence I've fought so hard to maintain. "I hate that we can't just be two people having a baby. That everything has to be calculated and strategic and weaponized."
"I know." His forehead drops to rest against mine, and I feel the tremor that runs through his body. "I hate it too."
The confession surprises me. The Pakhan admitting weakness, admitting he hates the rules of his own world. I close my eyes and let myself lean into him for just a moment, let myself take comfort from the solid warmth of his body despite the fury still simmering in my veins.
"One test," I say finally, my chin lifting with defiant pride even as the word tastes like surrender. "One time. And then this conversation never happens again."
His breath releases in a rush that might be relief. "Agreed."
"And when it comes back proving you're the father, you're going to apologize." I poke a finger into his chest, right over his heart. "Properly. On your knees, if necessary."
His lips curve into something that might be a smile. "On my knees, huh? I can think of other things I'd rather do on my knees."
Heat floods my cheeks despite everything, and I shove at his chest with both hands. "Don't. Don't try to charm your way out of this with sex."
"Is it working?" He catches my wrists, his thumbs brushing across my pulse points where my heart hammers visibly against my skin.
"No." But the word comes out breathier than I intend, and we both hear the lie underneath.
He pulls me closer, his mouth finding the sensitive spot just below my ear that makes my knees weak. "Liar."
I should push him away. Should maintain the distance that might protect what's left of my dignity. Instead, I find my hands sliding up his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath my palms, the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
"I'm still angry at you," I manage, even as my body melts against his.
"I know." His teeth graze my earlobe, sending electricity cascading down my spine. "Be angry. Hate me if you need to. But don't leave."
The vulnerability in those last words makes something crack open in my chest. This man who commands an empire with brutal efficiency, who makes grown men flinch with a single look, is asking me not to leave him. The power in that admission is intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure.
"Fine." The word tastes like surrender, like ash on my tongue. My fingers thread through his wet hair one last time before I pull away. "You'll have your proof."
His hands slide down to cup my hips, pulling me back against him. "Aria…"
"No." I push at his chest, this time with enough force that he actually steps back.
"I agreed. That's what you wanted, isn't it?
Now get out. This is my room, and I need you to leave because I'm still furious with you and I need space to process the fact that you just asked me to prove I didn't sleep around and claim you as my baby's daddy! "
His expression shifts, something that might be hurt flickering across his features before he buries it. "Aria."
"Don't." I wrap the towel tighter around myself, suddenly desperate to be anywhere but here, trapped in this bathroom with him and the wreckage of what I thought we were building. "Just don't. I agreed to your test. But I don't have to pretend this doesn't hurt."
I move past him toward the door, my bare feet slipping slightly on the wet marble. His hand catches my elbow, stopping me, and when I turn back, his eyes hold mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"I'm sorry." The words come out rough, almost painful, like he's not used to saying them. "For hurting you."
The apology lands like a physical blow, stealing what little air remains in my lungs. I want to accept it, to let it smooth over the jagged edges of my fury, but the wound is too fresh, too raw.
"Save it for after the test results come back," I say quietly. "When you know for certain I'm not lying."
I pull free from his grip and point toward the door. "Get out."
He doesn't move, just stands there with water pooling at his feet, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch despite my fury.
"I said get out." My voice shakes with the effort of holding back tears. "This is my room. You don't get to—"
"No." The single word cuts through my anger like a blade. He takes a step closer, his presence filling the space between us. "I'm not leaving you like this."
"Like what?" I laugh, the sound bitter and broken. "Furious? Hurt? Feeling like you think I'm a liar?"
"Like you're planning to run." His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. "I see it in your eyes, Solnyshka. You're calculating distances, weighing options, figuring out how to disappear."
The accuracy of his observation steals my breath. Because he's right. Part of me is already planning escape routes, considering how far I could get before his resources tracked me down. Even though I didn't realize it until he mentioned it.
"Maybe I should run," I whisper. "Maybe that would be better for everyone."
"Better?" He closes the remaining distance between us, his hands framing my face with surprising gentleness. "Better for who? Our child, who deserves both parents? Me, who would tear this city apart looking for you? Or you, who would spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?"
I want to pull away, to maintain my anger like armor, but his touch undoes something inside me. "You asked for proof, Nikolai. After everything we've survived, after I jumped into a storm-tossed ocean to save your life, you still need evidence that I'm not lying to you."
"I know." His thumb brushes across my cheekbone, catching a tear I didn't realize had fallen. "And I hate myself for it. But this is my world, Aria. This is the price we both pay."
"It's too high." My voice breaks on the words. "The cost is too high."
"I know that too." He rests his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my lips. "But I'm asking you to pay it anyway."
We stand there in the silence, the only sound our ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city beyond the windows. My hand moves instinctively to my stomach, to the life growing there, and I feel him tense against me.
"I'm exhausted," I finally whisper. "I'm so tired of fighting. Of proving myself. Of wondering if anything I do will ever be enough."
"Then stop fighting." His hands slide down to my shoulders, steadying me. "Just for tonight. Let yourself rest."
"I don't know if I can do this," I admit, my voice barely audible.
"You can." His certainty would be comforting if it didn't feel so much like a cage. "You're stronger than you know, Solnyshka. Strong enough to survive the island. Strong enough to survive me."
The towel slips slightly, and I clutch it tighter, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I am. Not just physically, but emotionally. He's seen every part of me. My fear, my fury, my desperate need for him despite everything. And now he's asking me to prove what should never need proving.
"Tomorrow, we marry," he says quietly, his thumb brushing across my lower lip with devastating tenderness. "Tomorrow, you become my wife, Aria. No matter what anyone whispers, no matter what the council demands, you're mine."