Chapter 15 - Lily
Moving through campus feels much different today, but I can’t deny that Mikhail has kept his word.
Still, being watched isn’t something I enjoy, especially not when it makes me look paranoid, given how I keep glancing over my shoulder.
I see him everywhere, regardless of trying to focus on my schedule and all the places I need to be.
He’s a looming figure standing across the street, a harmless man sitting on a bench pretending to scroll through his phone, and he’s the guy standing in line for coffee wearing a ball cap and sunglasses despite being inside.
No matter how quickly I move from my lectures and labs, and regardless of assuming I’ve managed to shake him off, he somehow appears out of thin air again.
At this point, I don’t know what’s more haunting—my security detail or the ring on my left hand.
It’s still foreign, and it doesn’t feel like any real vows are tied to it.
I can’t help but assume nothing will feel normal anymore. Not while I’m Mikhail’s wife by law.
Adjusting my back on my shoulder, I press forward and try to ignore both the guard following me and the knots in my stomach.
This is exactly what I begged Mikhail for. This is what I signed my freedom over for. To return to what’s left of my life, my classes, and my future, so long as he doesn’t screw that up.
The cost has been far more strenuous than I ever imagined, but it can’t be helped.
It’s either cooperate and feel normal, or defy him and be shut in from the world forever.
Even if it still doesn’t feel true, I’m someone’s wife now. I’m his wife.
But I’m also back, and that has to count for something.
Slipping into my last lecture, the hall is filling in quickly, but I secure a decent seat near the middle. From here, I feel like just another face in the crowd. Just another student. If I focus hard enough, I can even forget about the insane weekend I had.
I’m still Lily, even if my last name changed. I’m still chasing after the thing I’ve wanted for far too long.
I may be caught up with a man who has no qualms about hurting people when it suits him, but I’m still determined to save as many lives as I can one day.
While the professor does his thing, running us through slides on the board at the front, I happen to glance out the window just long enough to see him again.
My security, of course.
I still don’t know his name since he never introduced himself, but I have his face memorized already. Strong jaw and cheeks, dark hair tucked under his hat, civilian clothes, and a demeanor that’s just relaxed enough to pass as natural.
He’s everywhere at once, and he’s always scanning for threats.
I know he’s trying to blend in, but to me, he’s failing miserably.
Pulling in a breath, I subtly shift in my seat and return my focus to the lecture. That familiar rhythm sets in soon enough, and I let myself drift back to that world I knew before.
This is where I belong. Not in a warehouse shooting guns, or a penthouse—in Mikhail’s bed.
The reminder of what I did last night hits me like a cold front, but at the same time, the memory makes something stir in me.
I shouldn’t have slept with him again. I know that.
I know what he is and the life he leads. I know the people he’s tied to and how dangerous everything surrounding him is.
He’s a criminal and a ruthless man.
And yet, I’m still his wife.
Sitting in that lecture hall, it’s a strange thought that nobody else knows. I have to face that fact alone and continue like nothing has changed.
Resting my chin on my hand, I let my mind slip back to this morning. To how he said the words so casually:
You don’t need to worry—not while you’re my wife.
He made it sound like every aspect of my life could be safeguarded with money. As if my education was something he could buy and manage behind my back.
But it isn’t. This isn’t some fleeting daydream of mine.
This is everything I’ve worked for, and if I don’t focus, I’ll lose it all.
By midday, I’ve somewhat adjusted to my shadow tailing me between classes. Some students notice the strange man lurking around, but he stays as covert as possible.
Maybe they assume he’s campus security or some other undercover individual. Fortunately, nobody seems to ask any questions, and they move on with their day.
I just hope nobody puts two and two together and realizes he’s here for me.
While finishing my lunch alone, I see him again, a few benches down. He doesn’t approach or speak to anyone else, and I have half the mind to go and strike up a conversation with him.
But I have the feeling he either wouldn’t say anything at all, or I’d hear from Mikhail about talking to him.
Still, I continue with my day, handling even the heavier classes a bit easier than usual, thanks to my newfound gratitude for the schedule I had taken for granted.
The dense, grueling information I used to struggle to get through now seems oddly comforting in a way.
For a while, I forgot about the man outside, along with Mikhail. I take notes like my life depends on it, wondering if I’ll ever find a way out.
If I ever get to see my dreams all the way through.
***
When my day ends, I exit the main building and expect to find the driver out front, ready to take me back to the penthouse like clockwork.
Instead, my stomach drops at the sight of his black Porsche pulled up to the curb. And there he is, leaning against the front wheel well with his hands in the pockets of his slacks.
Mikhail.
The car is sleek and far too luxurious behind him, making him look even more expensive than usual. With his hair slightly out of place on top, the breeze catches a stray lock, letting it rest over his eyes.
I hate how I notice those details, and how it causes my heart to stir.
Regardless of the disdain I have for him, it’s not my fault he’s hotter than any man I’ve seen before.
Glancing around, I’m relieved there doesn’t seem to be anyone looking in my direction.
Being seen getting into a luxury car shouldn’t feel embarrassing, but doing so wouldn’t exactly give me a low profile. Universities are big and heavily populated, but people still manage to talk and spread the word anyway.
At my approaching footsteps, he glances up, and a small, satisfied smile pulls at his lips.
That makes me squirm.
For a beat, this looks normal, almost like he’s just a typical husband picking up his wife.
That may be exactly what we are, but there’s nothing normal about this situation.
“You’re here,” I say, needing to fill that remaining space between us with the first thing on my mind.
“I am. And you’re done,” he says, stating the obvious while he stands to his full height and props the door open for me. “Get in.”
I hesitate, meeting his gaze to find his eyes intently on me. Letting go of a soft breath, I step inside and take my seat on the plush interior.
It’s not that I don’t want to see him or have him pick me up personally, but I can already feel the lines beginning to blur. There’s something too intimate about him being here and picking me up like he cares.
Him being anywhere near my campus is unsettling, like it’s an instinct to keep the two parts of my life separate.
Once I’m settled in, he carefully closes the door behind me and then moves back to the driver’s side.
Immediately, the smell of his cologne hits me first while it tangles up with the scent of luxury. And the moment he gets in, starting the engine up again, his warmth floods in between the spaces.
His watch glints while he pulls out, heading for the main street. Then, Mikhail glances at me, taking in my features as if checking for any kind of damage.
“Were there any problems?”
The sincerity in his question throws me off-kilter for a moment before I correct myself.
“Aside from the guard watching me like I was a hostage, no,” I mutter, annoyed by how comfortable the seat is.
He smirks at me, letting his hand smoothly glide across the steering wheel while he takes a left turn. “You are a hostage, technically. Just one with better accommodations than most.”
He’s attempting to crack jokes. Of course he is.
I glare at him, but he doesn’t pull back.
“You’re still angry with me.”
“It’s only been a few days; do you expect me to be thrilled about adjusting to this life you’ve sprung onto me?”
Mikhail hums, keeping his eyes on the road while rush hour is well underway. “You agreed to it.”
“I was coerced,” I mumble, gaze sharper at him.
His amusement lingers, and the teasing lilt in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by me. “Were you coerced last night, too? Or perhaps the time before that?”
Despite myself, my cheeks and the top of my ears burn. “It’s different.”
“Is it?”
He’s too smug. And annoyingly, he isn’t wrong.
I hate him even more for it.
After a moment of silence, I murmur, “I’m just trying to get through this.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “And I’m trying to protect what’s mine.”
I can’t help but frown at him. “Stop saying that.”
Humming again, Mikhail doesn’t need to look in my direction to make his words hit just as hard. “It’s true.”
Well aware that I won’t win this verbal spar, I look away and try to focus on the passing city. I focus on how it felt to have a semblance of freedom for the day.
But now, being with Mikhail in his car on the way to the penthouse, I just feel caged.
It might be a beautiful, luxurious cage, but it still serves the same purpose.
We sit through the rest of the drive in silence, and the tension is thick enough to feel like immeasurable pressure.
I want to scream at him, to cry and hit him. I want to forget about all of it.
But like a traitor lurking in the background, I want to be in his arms again. I want to be surrounded by him, even if I should push for the opposite.
Somehow, Mikhail has managed to scramble my thoughts in such a short time, and I don’t know what to do about it.
I only know that I’m his now, and I can either accept it or resist him forever.