Chapter 7
Zara
After Nikolai leaves, I eat, reluctantly admitting to myself how delicious everything is.
Go use the bathroom, clean up, and brush with a new toothbrush I find on the counter.
On my way back to the bedroom, I see a stack of designer shopping bags by the massive wooden dresser that weren’t there last night.
Curiosity wins over, and I peek inside them.
There’s gorgeous lingerie, impossibly soft cashmere sweaters, shoes that look like they belong on a runway, dresses, pants, blouses.
An entire wardrobe for my new life… And there’s a note written in bold handwriting: For my beautiful wife. -N
I should tell him to go fuck himself, that I don’t want his blood money. But fuck, when was the last time anyone bought me anything? Or called me beautiful?
He’s a killer. I try reminding myself. But my fingers are already stroking the fabrics, imagining how the clothes will feel against my skin.
“You like them.” I spin around to find my husband leaning against the doorframe, still in pajama pants, hair mussed. Even first thing in the morning, this man looks like he could grace the cover of GQ. All ripped body, sharp features and dangerous eyes.
“It’s too much.”
“Nothing’s too much for you.” He pushes off the doorframe and stalks toward me, and I hate how my pulse quickens.
“Try something on.”
“I don’t…”
“Not a request, baby,” he says, low and commanding.
I grab the first thing I come in contact with, a black silk nightgown, and go back to the bathroom.
The fabric slides over my skin, and when I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself.
I look… sophisticated. Like someone who belongs in penthouses instead of double shifts at greasy diners.
When I come out, Nikolai’s eyes are filled with a hunger that makes my knees go weak.
He closes the distance between us, his hands settling on my hips, thumbs tracing hypnotizing circles over the silk.
“Nik…” I start to protest, but then his mouth is on my neck, pressing hot kisses to the sensitive spot below my ear, and my resolve melts.
“You feel so fucking good,” he rasps against my skin. His hands roam up my sides, cupping my breasts through the nightgown, and I can’t stop the small moan that escapes me. He feels so good, so warm and solid. “That’s it,” he says, feeling me melt into him. “Stop fighting it.”
He walks me to the bed, the backs of my knees hitting the mattress.
I fall back and he follows me down, caging me with his massive body.
His mouth finds mine, kissing me deep and filthy, his tongue sweeping against mine until I’m gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer.
He breaks the kiss and pulls back, kneeling between my thighs.
His dark eyes roaming over me like I’m his last meal.
Then Nikolai reaches for the hem of the nightgown and slides it up, bunching the silk around my waist. I’m bare from the waist down, spread open on his bed, and the way he’s staring at my pussy makes my face burn.
“Gorgeous,” he rasps. “Every fucking inch of you.”
He shoves his pajama pants down and his cock springs free. Thick, veined, hard and leaking. It looks even bigger in the daylight, and the memory of how much it stretched me makes me clench.
He catches my reaction. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Nothing. You’re just…” I swallow. “Big.”
His grin is pure evil. “And you took every inch like a good girl.” He wraps his fist around himself, stroking slowly, his eyes locked on mine. “But you’re sore.” It’s not a question.
“A little,” I admit.
He crawls over me, one hand braced by my head, the other guiding himself to my entrance. The thick head nudges my folds, and I tense. He’s so big. So fucking big.
“Relax, baby. Just the tip.” He pushes in.
Just the head. And my back arches off the bed because even that is a stretch, my sore walls gripping him, burning and aching and feeling so good, all at the same time.
“Fuck,” Nikolai hisses, jaw clenched, veins popping in his neck.
“So fucking tight, wife. Tighter than last night.” He rocks his hips, feeding me another inch, and my nails dig into his forearms. “But your greedy little cunt’s still pulling me in.
Feel that?” I do. My body’s betraying me again, clenching around him, wanting more even though it hurts.
“Nik, I can’t…it’s too much…”
“You can. You took all of me last night. You can do it again.” Another inch.
Slow. Stretching me around his thickness until my eyes water.
“Look down. Watch.” I don’t want to. But I do.
And the sight of him disappearing inside me, my pussy stretched wide around his massive cock, his shaft glistening with my arousal…
Oh, fuck. “See that?” he growls, feeding me more.
“See how your perfect little kitty takes me? Fucking made for me.” I moan, unable to help it, my head falling back.
He grabs my chin, forcing my eyes back down.
“No. You watch. Wanna see your face when I bottom out.” He pushes in the rest of the way, in one long, devastating thrust that fills me so completely I can’t breathe.
I feel him everywhere. In my stomach, my chest, behind my fucking eyes.
“There she is,” he murmurs, watching tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
He wipes one with his thumb, the gesture so tender it makes something crack in my chest. “My perfect wife. Taking all of her husband’s cock like she was built for it.
” Then he starts to move. Slow at first. In long, deep strokes that make me feel every thick inch.
He pulls almost all the way out, letting me see the length of him slick with me, then sinks back in until his hips are flush against mine. “Tell me how it feels,” he growls.
“Full,” I gasp. “So full.”
“Full of what?”
“Your cock.” My face is on fire, but I can’t stop the words.
“My cock,” he repeats, voice rough, pace picking up.
“My cock in my wife’s tight little pussy.
And this pussy’s gonna be the only one I fuck for the rest of my life.
You understand that, sweetheart?” I can’t respond because he angles his hips and hits something inside me that makes my vision white out.
My legs wrap around him, heels digging into his hard ass, pulling him deeper.
“That’s it. There she is.” He pounds into that spot over and over, his thumb finding my clit, circling.
“Come on my cock, wife. Show me how much you love being stuffed full of your husband.” My orgasm is violent and sudden, my whole body locking up, my pussy clamping down on Nik so hard he groans through clenched teeth.
“Fuck, baby, you’re choking me. Squeezing me so fucking hard…
” He slams into me, once, twice, then he’s coming, flooding me, his cock pulsing inside me while he growls my name into my neck.
After, we lie there, him still buried inside me, both of us breathing hard. I can feel him softening, feel his cum leaking around where we’re still connected, hot and slick on my thighs. “Still too much?” He asks against my skin.
“Shut up.” He laughs, the vibration making me clench. To which he reacts with a roll of his hips and a groan.
I’m boneless, satisfied, and completely disgusted with myself. Nikolai carries me to the luxurious multi-head shower, washes me with gentle hands and expensive shower gel like I’m fragile and precious, and I let him…
“You need to rest,” he says after tucking me back into bed with a kiss on my forehead.
I just nod and snuggle in. He fucked the fight right out of me. For now…
* * *
After I wake up and change, I wander around the house, exploring its vast rooms. And every time I walk around a corner, a guy in a suit pops out of nowhere, asking if I need anything.
I decline and continue my exploration, feeling restless and trapped.
I end up in a gigantic family room with floor-to-ceiling windows and plush furniture and turn on the TV.
I flip through channels until I find the local news.
And there it is, my nightmare broadcast in high definition.
“The police is still looking for information in the brutal execution-style murder of Marcus Jameson,” the reporter says. “If you have any information…”
My hands shake as I grab the remote to turn it off.
Suddenly, the walls of this beautiful place feel like they’re closing in on me.
I need to get out of here. Need to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve staying Mrs. Nikolai Maksimov forever.
Moving quickly, I go to my purse, pull out my phone, my heart hammering, and dial my friend Maya.
“Hey, Maya.”
“Girl, where the hell have you been? I went by your apartment, and your building manager said you moved out. I even went to your work, and they said you quit. What’s going on?”
“I can’t explain over the phone, but I need help. I need somewhere to stay for a few days while I figure things out.” There’s a pause.
“Of course, honey. You know you can crash here as long as you need to. Are you okay?” “I’m…” I start to say I’m fine, but the words stick in my throat. “Can you come pick me up? I’m at…” I rattle off the address of the building.
“That’s Russian Hill, Z. What are you doing in that neighborhood?”
“It’s complicated. Can you just…”
“Mrs. Maksimov.” I spin around to find one of my husband’s men standing in the doorway. Just as intimidating as I remember, tall, broad, with cold eyes that miss nothing. “I’m gonna have to call you back,” I whisper into the phone and hang up.
“Mr. Maksimov asked me to keep an eye on you while he was out,” the guy tells me. “Make sure you have everything you need.”
“I was just… I was calling a friend.”
“I heard.” He moves closer, and I back up. “Your friend Maya Rodriguez. Lives on Mission Street with her boyfriend, Carlos.” My blood turns to ice.
“How do you…”
“We know everything about you, Mrs. Maksimov.” His eyes hold mine. “Mr. Maksimov is very thorough when it comes to protecting what’s his.”
“I’m not his.” He doesn’t answer, just pulls out his phone and shows me the screen: it’s security footage of Maya.
“This was taken ten minutes ago. Your friend is safe… as long as she stays out of business that doesn’t concern her.” The threat is crystal clear.
“He’s been watching my friends?”
“He’s been watching everyone who might help you do something foolish.
” The guy pockets his phone. “Your old job has been informed that you relocated for family reasons. Your landlord received a very generous payment to cover breaking your lease. Your bank account…” He pauses.
“There were some irregularities that required freezing your assets pending investigation.” I gasp, each word hitting me like a punch.
“He can’t do that.”
“He can do whatever he wants, Mrs. Makismov.” His expression softens a bit. “But he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He just wants to protect you.”
I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor, the reality of my situation finally hitting me. He didn’t just marry me; this psycho dismantled my entire life.
“There’s nowhere to go,” I whisper.
“No,” he agrees. “There isn’t.”
“He’s trapped me.”
“He’s claimed you. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” He considers this for a moment.
“Mr. Maksimov could have killed you that night in the alley. It would have been simpler. Cleaner. But he didn’t. He married you instead. That should tell you something.”
I scoff, feeling my throat clog. “That he’s insane?”
“That he cares about you, Miss.”
I want to laugh, but it comes out sounding more like a sob.
After he leaves, I sit on the floor for a long time, staring at my phone, thinking about Maya. About how easily Nikolai found her, how quickly he could make her disappear if I step out of line. I’m not just trapped. I’m completely, utterly fucked.
* * *
When Nikolai comes back later, I’m sitting at the massive marble kitchen counter, staring into nothing.
“How was your day?” he asks, like his man didn’t crush my last hope of escape. I give him a murderous look.
“I’m sure your watchdog told you.”
“Your friend doesn’t need to worry about you, Zara.”
I protest, “She’s gonna worry.”
“She’s gonna think you got married and moved on.” He gives me a cold look. “Which is exactly what happened.”
I want to throw something at his face.
He moves closer. “The cops aren’t backing down, Zara.”
My stomach drops. “How do you know?”
“They called today. Wanna have a chat with us tomorrow.”
Fuck. “What kind of chat?”
“The kind where they try to prove we’re lying. Maybe get you alone so you’ll crack and tell them what really happened.” My mouth falls open. “If they can prove this marriage is bullshit, we lose spousal privilege and you become their star witness whether you want to or not.”
“And then what happens?”
“Then we both go down, sweetheart. Me for murder, you for being an accessory after the fact. Or whatever the fuck they come up with to scare you.”
My heart beats like crazy, my insides twisting. “So we’re stuck together.”
He just stares back.