Chapter 16 - Dani
Tangled up in dark sheets that smell like Nikolai was not on my list of ways I expected to wake up this morning, and yet, it became my reality anyway.
For a few disoriented seconds, I don’t remember where I am while my body feels warm and heavy with sleep, and the faint ache in my muscles is pleasantly unfamiliar.
Then memory comes rushing back all at once, and I’m brought back to the kitchen with the teasing, his hands on me, and the way he kissed me like he’d been holding himself back for days and finally snapped.
My cheeks warm instantly, and I groan softly, dragging the blanket over my head in mortification despite being alone.
God, I actually slept with him.
And I didn’t just sleep with him…I practically melted for him, and I acted like he was the only person I’ve ever craved and needed before, without considering the consequences.
Worst of all, I liked every second of it to a shameful degree.
Every touch and look had me completely mesmerized by him, and every rough laugh against my skin when I teased him right back, every sound he made because of me made me feel so important. As if I truly was with him in this, and not just an issue to be sorted out.
The memory of the night plays in fragments in my mind, making my stomach twist in ways I absolutely do not need right now, because this is completely insane.
Nikolai lied to me repeatedly, admitted to being part of organized crime, and technically still isn’t letting me leave his house, and yet, I somehow ended up in his bed.
After getting it out of my system, I slowly lower the blanket from my face and stare up at the ceiling, trying to process the emotional whiplash of my own life.
Before, my day-to-day seemed so boring and uneventful. I went to work, took care of my dad, and had some stolen moments for myself. At best, I would experience one significant life event in a year, but more recently, I’ve experienced several in just a few weeks.
As much as I want to blame Nikolai for that, it started before he stepped into the picture.
The bed beside me is empty and cool enough to suggest that he’s been gone for a while now, and something about that unsettles me more than it should. A piece of me wishes he were still here, regardless of how needy that sounds coming from me.
Last night had felt different, and not just physical.
There had been moments where his guard slipped enough that I could almost pretend none of the ugly realities around us existed, along with instances where he looked at me with this raw intensity that made me feel wanted in a way I’d never experienced before.
In the moment, I mattered, but now, I don’t know what happens next.
My stomach clenches at the thought of facing Nikolai again after everything, unable to picture what that might bring. I imagine it being awkward, or maybe he’ll regret it entirely and leave me feeling inadequate. Maybe it will be perfectly fine, and I’m overthinking too much.
Either way, the unknown bothers me more than I want it to, and it takes a lot more willpower to dispel the thoughts than I like.
Sitting up slowly, I run a hand through my hair as sunlight spills across the massive bedroom.
Evidence of last night is everywhere if I look too closely: the towels discarded near the bedroom door, the imprint of where he slept beside me, and the lingering scent of soap and him. The kitchen has to be worse.
It feels strangely intimate, and it’s annoying how much I don’t hate it, and I wouldn’t mind seeing more of it.
Eventually, I force myself out of bed and into the shower, trying to clear my head under the steaming water, but it doesn’t help much.
Every time I close my eyes, I remember the way Nikolai looked at me afterward, with eyes softer than usual, like he was startled by his own reaction, as if he hadn’t expected any of this either.
By the time I get dressed and wander downstairs, the house is quiet, and to my surprise, the kitchen has been cleared of any evidence of the line we crossed.
I end up making coffee mostly to have something to do with my hands, and I absently eat one of the cookies while I wait. The routine helps steady me a little as it grounds me in something normal while my thoughts keep spiraling in circles.
I don’t know what we are now, and that’s the biggest problem. It’s aggravating to know I even have to ask that question.
The hours pass slowly after that, and I try to read half a book without processing any of it, then I pace around the kitchen before getting nosy and digging around his limited decor for anything interesting.
I know I’m going stir crazy when every sound outside catches my attention automatically, and by the time I force myself to stop looking out the window, that’s when the front door opens.
Instantly, the previous tension returns to my chest, squeezing while I brace myself.
Footsteps echo through the house, sounding unmistakably like Nikolai, and I stand from the couch before I can overthink it, smoothing nervous palms against my leggings as he steps into view.
I prepare myself with everything I want to say. Every defense I’ve been thinking up to plead for even a shred of my old life, but before I can say a word, something feels off.
His expression is harder than it was last night, and more noticeably closed off. Tension pulls his shoulders tight, and it lingers in the sharpness of his jaw, and he walks in carrying the weight of something I likely couldn’t wrap my head around.
For a brief second, his eyes soften when they land on me, then it’s gone again.
My stomach sinks, and I immediately abandon my carefully crafted opening line for something less explosive.
“Hey,” I say carefully.
“Hey.”
His voice is level yet more forced than usual, like he’s trying to convince both of us he’s perfectly fine.
Nikolai shrugs off his jacket and sets his keys down on the counter before loosening the collar of his shirt slightly, and the movement exposes faint scratches creeping down his neck toward his shoulder from last night. Heat instantly creeps into my face before irritation follows right after it.
Regardless of the evidence, he’s acting like nothing happened, as if he can just compartmentalize all of this and move on, while I’ve been stuck on it all day.
At first, I want to sit in that anger, but my curiosity and mild concern win out.
“You okay?”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then murmurs, “I’m fine.”
Without having to search too deeply, I can already tell it’s a lie. Even if I shouldn’t, I press.
“What happened?”
“Work.”
He gives me a vague, dismissive one-word answer, and I stare at him for a second longer, waiting for more. Annoyingly, it doesn’t come, and something cold settles uneasily in my stomach.
“Oh,” I say quietly, hoping he might elaborate on his own.
Instead, Nikolai nods once and heads toward the kitchen like that answers everything, and maybe it’s enough for him, but it isn’t for me.
It feels like whiplash, as if we walked away from two very different experiences.
He touched me like I was something precious last night, like all those walls he keeps around himself had finally cracked open enough to let me inside. I never expected him to, but it was enough of a glimpse for me to feel at ease, and now, they’re slamming right back into place.
The shift catches me off guard more than I want it to, and before I can stop myself, I follow him slowly into the kitchen, watching as he pours himself water without meeting my eyes for more than a second at a time.
He’s retreating, and that shouldn’t be very surprising, but it is.
I can feel it happening in real time, causing insecurity to twist deeply in me.
Was I just a distraction or a release for him? Was last night just some temporary lapse in judgment for him, while I stupidly let myself believe it meant something more?
No…
Forcing myself to pull in a deep breath, I stop the thoughts before they go too far, and I force myself to be rational.
This is exactly what I warned myself about, and exactly why I should’ve been more careful about all of this.
Nikolai comes from a world I don’t understand. It’s one built on secrets, violence, and emotional walls thick enough to survive anything. Men like him probably can’t survive by being vulnerable and open as others can.
I’m an idiot if I start confusing attraction with genuine safety, or lust with care.
He might want me physically, but that doesn’t mean he’s emotionally letting me in any more than he needs to.
The realization stings, but I have to face it anyway.
“So,” I say finally, trying to sound casual despite the tension crawling beneath my skin and how hard my heart is racing, straddling the line of curiosity and overstepping. “What exactly do you do all day?”
His gaze flicks toward me briefly, looking too neutral for me to read. “You probably don’t want the real answer to that.”
“That’s likely true.”
Silence stretches awkwardly after that, and every piece of me hates it. I hate how quickly things have shifted back to uncertainty and too many questions left unanswered.
Desperate to reclaim some sense of normalcy, I latch onto the first thing that comes to mind, even if he’s not being very receptive already.
“I’ve been thinking…about my job at the bookstore.”
That gets more of his attention immediately, and he raises his head to meet my gaze again. “From before?”
I nod.
Before everything imploded in my face, the small independent bookstore downtown had been my one escape, even if it came with mundane, repetitive tasks.
It wasn’t glamorous, but I loved the smell of old paper, how it felt to organize shelves and recommend novels to regular customers who trusted my taste.
It had been safe, simple, and something that couldn’t be taken away from me. Of course, until it was.
“I want to go back eventually,” I continue quietly, urging the words out. “I know things are complicated right now, but I miss it.”
Nikolai’s expression barely changes, not given an indication that he’s considering anything. “That’s nice, but you don’t need the job.”
I blink back at him, startled by the simple response. “What?”
“You don’t need to work there anymore. Not when you have everything you need here.”
Something about that claim feels far too permanent, and not at all what we’ve discussed. Without warning, that dismissal sparks irritation under my skin.
“That’s not the point.”
“It’s not safe right now anyway. You know that.”
“I said eventually,” I return, hating how it feels to not be considered. “And it would be nice to have something that doesn’t make me feel like a prisoner.”
Nikolai sighs at that, closing his eyes briefly before sidestepping that last part. “Regardless, you still don’t need it.”
There’s something in his tone that instantly rubs me the wrong way. It’s too definitive, like he’s already decided for me and assumes he knows what’s best.
I cross my arms. “I liked working there.”
“You can like doing something else…here.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I utter, staring at him in complete disbelief. “You said this was temporary.”
“It is,” Nikolai mutters, but the way his jaw tightens seems to say otherwise. “Christ…I’m trying to make things easier for you. You don’t need to worry about all of this.”
“By deciding what I should do with my own life?”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“It absolutely is,” I fire back, losing any sort of grip on my anger now.
He exhales slowly, like he’s already getting tired of the conversation and is tempted to say whatever he needs to. “Danielle—”
“No,” I cut in sharply. “You don’t get to tell me what parts of my life matter and what don’t. That bookstore mattered to me, and I’ll be damn lucky if they offer me a position again after I disappeared.”
His gaze sharpens slightly at my tone, but instead of arguing further, he just mutters, “We’ll talk about it later.”
And just like that, the conversation is over because he says so.
I stare at Nikolai in disbelief while frustration burns in my chest all over again, instantly reminded that no matter how gentle he was last night, and no matter how soft he looked touching me in the dark, he’s still Nikolai.
He’s still dangerous and someone used to getting his way.
Before I know it, the warmth lingering from last night feels a lot colder than it did this morning.