Chapter 2
Two
Nadia
I stare at the three stories of stone and glass, with massive windows and perfect landscape, even in the dark. Zak’s house is the kind of place that screams old money and ‘don’t fuck with me’. I swallow hard, my eyes wide.
He opens his door, then reaches for me. “Come on.”
I don’t move. “Take me home.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re staying here.”
“I am not…”
“Nadia.” He stares back with a deep frown that does something to my insides. Something I’m definitely not acknowledging… “Get out of the car.”
I huff and climb out. Zak puts a hand on my lower back as we walk toward the entrance. The two men in black suits standing at the door nod at us.
“Boss.”
He nods back and guides me inside. The foyer is absurdly luxurious. Like no place I’ve ever been. With marble floors, a chandelier that probably costs more than my car, and a magnificent staircase.
I’m still staring when an older gentleman approaches us, carrying a leather doctor’s bag.
He inclines his head. “Mr. Maksimov. Miss.”
Maksimov. So that’s his last name…
Zak nods, then turns to me. “Come on.”
I’m still too shocked to protest when he wraps a large, warm hand around mine and pulls me along to head down a hallway into what looks like an office. All dark wood, leather chairs, and a massive desk.
The doctor sets his bag on the desk and gestures to a plush club chair. “Please.”
Zak sits and unbuttons his shirt. I stand by the door with my arms crossed, trying not to stare.
He shoulders off the shirt… and… This man’s chest should be fucking illegal.
He’s broad, defined, and covered in tats.
His arms, his pecs… There’s a line of words inked at the top of his ribcage, making my fingers itch to trace them. But there’s also blood. So much blood.
The doctor leans in, examining Zak’s wound with sharp eyes, then nods. “In and out, no real damage. You’re lucky, Mr. Maksimov.”
The older gentleman cleans the wound, and I watch Zak’s jaw tighten, but he doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t even flinch. He just sits there, stone-faced. Looking hotter than anyone has the right to be…
The doc stitches him up and wraps a bandage around his torso. “Keep it clean, no strenuous activity for a few days, and you’ll be good as new.”
“Thanks.”
The older man nods, packs his bag, then turns to me, smiling. “Make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”
Then he’s gone and I’m left alone with a shirtless mobster, who just got stitched up from a freaking bullet wound, in his home office.
Zak stands slowly, reaching for his shirt.
“I should really go now,” I say. He gives me a murderous stare. Oh boy… “Look, I helped you. But I need to get back to my life. And my friend’s probably freaking out…”
“Your friend’s fine. I had my men check. Everyone left the venue safely.”
I sigh in relief. “They did?”
He nods. “Had her and her guy checked on. They’re back at the hotel, unharmed. And I’ll cover the repairs for the venue.”
Oh, wow!
“That’s… uh… thank you.” He nods, wincing slightly as he pulls his shirt on and buttons it. “So I can go now.”
Death glare. “No.”
I throw my hands up. “Why the hell not?”
“Because it’s not safe,” he rumbles through clenched teeth.
I take another step forward, glaring just as hard. “Then I’ll go to the police.”
His eyes go arctic cold.
Ooookay…
“No police, Nadia.”
“Well, you can’t just keep me here.” He holds my gaze, silent. “Are you serious right now?” More mute staring. “This is insane.”
Zak further closes the distance between us, towering over me. “Those men tonight?” He extends one long arm, pointing to the door. “They know what you look like, Nadia. They saw you with me.”
My stomach drops. “But I don’t even know you!”
He shakes his head, his dark eyes never leaving mine. “Doesn’t matter. You’re associated with me now. That makes you a target.”
“So what? I’m supposed to stay here forever?” I sound hysterical to my own ears.
“Until it’s handled.”
“And how long is that going to take?”
“However long it needs.”
I want to scream. Or cry. Or both. I’m stuck in a freaking mafia war with a man who makes my blood boil… and my panties wet.
I wrap my arms around my body.
Zak lets out a long, tired sigh before walking past me into the hallway. “Come on.”
I follow because what else am I supposed to do? He takes us upstairs, down a long hallway, then opens a door at the end of it. It’s an immense bedroom with an Alaskan-king-sized bed, floor-to-ceiling windows, and two doors that each open to a vast walk-in closet and a sumptuous bathroom.
“This is your room?” I ask, blinking at the decor-magazine-style opulence.
“Our room.”
“Excuse me?!”
He turns to face me. “You’re staying with me.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Absolutely not.”
“Nadia…”
“No, I’ll stay in your house while you’re dealing with this mess. Fine, I won’t go to the police.” I raise a finger. “Yet. But I’m not sleeping in your bed.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know you!”
“You married me.”
“By accident!”
“Still counts.”
I want to freaking strangle him.
He sighs, running a hand through his thick dark-blond locks. “Look, I need you where I can see you. Where I know you’re safe.”
“You have guards, cameras… probably a whole security system.”
“Not enough,” he growls, a muscle jumping in his cut jaw.
“Zak…”
“Please.”
Damn it.
I exhale loudly. “Fine. But you stay on your side of the bed.”
His only answer is a smirk. Asshole.
“You hungry? Thirsty?”
Now that he mentions it, I’m starving. “Yeah, actually.”
He pulls out his phone and sends a text. “Food will be here in a few minutes.”
“Thanks.” I stand there, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.
I watch him push the bathroom door wide open and flip the light on. “There’s shit in the cabinets. Help yourself.”
I peek into the bathroom. It’s even bigger than I thought from the outside. With a massive walk-in shower, a huge soaking tub, and double sinks that take up an entire wall. All in black marble and chrome.
“Uh… do you think I could borrow some clean clothes?” I ask, gesturing at the jeans and top I’ve been wearing for what feels like a week.
Zak walks to a dresser, pulls open a drawer, grabs a long-sleeved cotton T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, and hands them to me. I look at the clothes in my hands then at him.
“But these are yours…”
“And?” He cocks a brow, looking infuriatingly sexy doing it.
“I can’t wear your clothes.”
He sighs heavily. “Nadia, go change.”
I shrug, feeling the weight of the exhaustion from the last couple of hours drain the last dregs of fight I had in me. “Fine.”
I get inside the bathroom, close the door, and lean against it.
What the hell is even my life right now?!
I run my hands under the water to rinse my face, then press them at the base of my neck.
I strip off my clothes to pull on Zak’s.
Everything is huge. The t-shirt falls mid-thigh, the sleeves past my fingertips, the shorts almost hit my ankles.
I roll up the sleeves and scoff when I check myself in the mirror. I look ridiculous.
When I open the door, Zak’s sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks up at me and goes completely still. His eyes drag down my body slowly, taking in every inch of me swimming in his clothes, his jaw tightening.
“What?” I ask, looking down at myself. “What’s wrong?”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard before responding in a raspy voice, “Nothing’s wrong.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Then stop staring.” He doesn’t even blink, and heat floods my face. “Zak.”
He comes close, whispering low, “Looks good on you.”
I shrug, trying for nonchalance. “It’s just a shirt and shorts.”
“But they’re mine,” he replies in a low, possessive voice.
Oooh… Nope. Not going there.
Thank God, that’s the moment we hear a knock at the door. Zak opens it, and a woman walks in carrying a tray. She smiles warmly at us, lowering her head, then sets the food on a small table near the large windows.
“Thank you, Maria,” Zak says, nodding at her.
“Of course, sir. Please let us know if there’s anything else.” Then she leaves.
He takes my hand and walks us to the table. There are two bowls of steaming soup that smell heavenly, warm bread, fruit, a crystal carafe filled with fresh water, and a teapot and cups. All the dishes, beautiful china.
“Sit,” he orders gruffly, at the same time pulling me a chair like a perfect gentleman. Grumpy psycho.
I roll my eyes, huffing, but still sit. Your girl is hungry!
He takes the chair across from mine, and we eat in silence for a few minutes… until I can’t take it anymore.
“So, Bratva, huh?”
He shakes his head, that small, amused smile returning. “Yeah.”
“And you’re the Pakhan?” He hums, nodding.
I take a bite of bread, and my eyes close with bliss.
“Oh my God, this is delicious!” Zak chuckles, watching me stuff my face.
Everything is freaking amazing. Like gourmet-level, freshly prepared comfort food.
I close my eyes on a moan, and when I open them, he’s watching me.
Staring. At my mouth… Uh-oh. I clear my throat.
“So how exactly does one become a Bratva boss?”
He huffs out a small laugh, like he knows exactly what I’m doing, but is giving me the grace not to address it. “You’re born into it. Or you earn it.”
I tilt my head, my curiosity piqued. “Oh, and which one are you?”
“Both.”
My eyes go up to the ceiling. “Of course.”
He smirks, looking so freaking handsome, I want to climb over the table and into his lap. God, Nadia!
“What about you?” he asks.
“What about me?”
“What do you do?”
“Oh, I’m a nurse.”
His eyebrows lift. “Really?”
“Yeah, I work at a clinic in North Shore.” I take another sip of the amazing soup, paired with a bite of the delicious bread.
“That why you were so calm when you saw me bleeding?”
I look up from my plate, pointing my spoon at his face. “Dude, I was not calm. I was freaking out.”
His grin widens; he looks… proud? “Not really.”
I shrug and bring my attention back to my meal. The next time I look up, I see he’s watching me again. I quickly look away and focus on my soup.
We finish eating in silence until Maria returns to clear the table.
Then it’s just us again. And the bed…
Zak stands and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
My eyes widen. “Whoa. What are you doing?”
He gives me a puzzled frown. “Getting ready for bed.”
“Can you not do that in front of me?”
“Why?” he looks confused.
“Because!” I let out agitatedly, gesturing at ALL that’s him like a freaking maniac.
He smirks again. His long, strong fingers still working the buttons open.
One. By. One. I swallow. Hard. Hypnotized by every inch of tatted, golden skin being revealed.
Until I shake myself, turn around, and stomp to the window, resolutely keeping my gaze on the starry sky.
I hear fabric rustling, the only sound filling the room, competing with my loud heartbeat.
“You can look now.” His deep voice is laced with humor.
I turn and, oh my God! He’s in gray sweatpants. Shirtless. Fucking acres of muscles, tanned skin, and tats. Why me? God, why? And that V that drips into the low waistband of his sweats? Just fucking kill me now.
I do the only thing I know can disengage my brain from its dangerous course. I get into nurse mode.
“Let me check your bandage,” I say before I can stop myself.
Zak holds my gaze, calm, intense, freaking hot as hell. “It’s fine.”
“Please, let me check it,” I insist, needing to busy my brain.
He sighs, then sits on the bed. I move close and kneel in front of him.
His eyes drop to mine. I fight to ignore the way my heart pounds when our gazes collide.
He’s so big and strong, even sitting. And why the fuck did I kneel between his powerful thighs?
! I feel the heat from his body, his scent.
Catch his fists clenching and unclenching over his knees. What are we doing?…
I shake myself and focus on the bandage. I carefully lift the edge and check the stitches. There’s no bleeding or swelling. Of course, that doctor is probably used to treating bullet wounds. Didn’t look like it was his first rodeo.
“Looks good,” I murmur in a choked voice. Before adding gruffly, “But you’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep moving around.”
He rasps low, “I’m fine, Nadia.”
I whisper back, “You’re stubborn.” My eyes, still riveted to his injury.
He says just as softly, “Takes one to know one.” A large, warm hand comes to cup the side of my face for the briefest touch, leaving a scorching path behind.
I press the bandage back down, my shaking hand lingering on his skin.
I finally find the strength to pull back and stand, muttering, “We should get some rest.”
Zak’s answer is a low, raspy, “Yeah.”
We take turns using the bathroom and brushing our teeth. When I walk in after him, Zak has laid out a new toothbrush still in its wrapping for me, and I rummage through his high-end products for toothpaste.
* * *
When I climb into the huge bed, I settle in as far from him as possible.
Zak turns off the light and slides in on the other side.
The cloud-like mattress barely dips under his substantial weight.
Then we lie in the dark. Not touching, not talking.
But I can feel him. It’s like the heat from his massive body travels the couple of feet between us.
“Nadia.”
His deep voice fills the entire space, wrapping around me, settling at the tips of my nipples, between my thighs…
“Yeah?” I croak out.
“Thank you for helping me tonight.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I mean it.”
I don’t know what to reply to that. So I stay quiet.
Minutes pass. Maybe hours. I can’t tell. Then I feel his arm slide around my waist.
“Zak…”
“Sleep, wife,” he murmurs against my temple, pulling me to his front.
And despite everything… or because of the chaos, the danger, the insanity of this entire situation…
I relax, sinking into his warm embrace. And it’s like…
coming home. He’s so big that his body freaking surrounds me.
The skin on his forearms is soft under my fingertips.
Velvet over iron muscles. And he smells so good.
Even after getting shot and running for his life.
I let the sensations take over. Zak, everywhere.
Around me, in my lungs, all over my skin.
My heartbeat slowly settles, matching his.
I sigh, burying deeper into his chest. He kisses the top of my head, and my breathing relaxes.
“We need to talk about the annulment,” I mumble, already half-asleep.
He chuckles. “Goodnight, baby.”
And I’m out.