Might As Well Enjoy It

Leni

The morning light, sharp and insistent, pierced the thin blinds, a rude awakening. I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow, but the persistent rumbling in my stomach wouldn't be ignored.

Damn it.

I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, to avoid facing Dusan, especially after the unsettling events of the previous night. My face flushed at the memory of his words, his request for patience, and the inexplicable desire he ignited within me.

Remember, Leni, I reminded myself, this marriage is fake. Can I even call it that? Dusan Nikolic is a dangerous man, and you shouldn't be feeling this way. Yet, there was an incredible pull in the danger surrounding him, an emotion that fueled my decision to pursue law as my profession.

My stomach growled again, an annoying memo of how hungry I was, and I reluctantly left my bed. The house in St. Petersburg was immense, outdoing my parents' home in Florence. I wandered through a several passges, searching for the kitchen as my stomach continued its noisy protest. I paused, hearing the low rumble of voices behind a large, decorated door.

Probably a meeting, I thought, deciding to move on. But then the grumbling in my stomach grew louder, and I figured, just a quick peek. Maybe they have snacks.

I opened the door and found myself face-to-face with Dusan. His intense gaze locked onto mine. The men in the room turned, and a low growl rumbled from Dusan's throat.

"Don't look at her yesli kto-to iz vas eto sdelayet, ya lichno otrezhu vam chlen i skormlyu vam vashi glaza," he commanded, his voice laced with menace.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, "What is with me and interrupting meetings?" I glanced down and realized I was still in my nightgown.

Shit

"What do you want?" His growl was thick with a raw intensity.

I swallowed hard, unable to speak. Dusan moved toward me, his fingers unbuttoning his shirt. A small, almost preying smile played on his lips as he leaned close, his warm breath ghosting across my skin. Instinctively, I tilted my face upward, and my body ached for him to touch me, I tried to graze his lips a bit but he pulled back coyly.

“Zheltofiol I told you to be patient, didn't I?" he whispered, his lips tracing the line of my neck.

"I… I was hungry," I managed to stammer.

"What are you hungry for, Leni?" The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. My stomach growled again, telling him it wasn't just him I was hungry for.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your meeting, I was just looking for the kitchen and I got lost.” I said shyly.

A soft smile touched Dusan's lips “I will have to get used to you barging into my office and my life, Zheltofiol.” He took my elbow and calmly guided me out of the office. "I'll take you to Rafaela. She arrived while you were sleeping."

"Rafaela is here? Why?" I asked, a flicker of unease in my voice.

"I need my trusted people around me," Dusan replied, his tone firm.

"This is supposed to be our honeymoon," I murmured, a hint of disappointment creeping into my voice.

"This is my home. I'm not leaving," Dusan said, his voice soft, but firm.

"What are you trying to say?" I asked, my heart pounding.

"We will be living here, I have business that requires my presence and undivided attention," Dusan stated, his gaze unwavering.

I stopped dead in my tracks. What? A surge of disbelief washed over me.

"Then do your business. I'm going back to Florence!" I declared, my voice trembling with anger.

Dusan turned, a cruel smile twisting his lips. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, then his hand closed around my neck, not hard enough to choke me, but enough to send a shiver of fear through me. "I like how you think you have a choice. We're married, and you are mine. Forget the life you think you had in Florence and think about building a new one here."

A laugh escaped my lips as I pushed him off me, creating distance. "Dusan Nikolic, I am not yours. We might be married, but you don't own me. We both know this marriage is a sham so please cut me the bull, I'm going back to Florence this weekend, and you won't do anything stop me."

"Build a new life here. You're insane if you think I'm leaving my life for you," I murmured but it was loud enough for him to hear.

"Leni, you don't have a life. Just a job you don't even like" Dusan's voice was hard, his eyes filled with cold certainty, "And stop being a brat, Leni Nikolic!" Dusan said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

My breath hitched. Leni Nikolic. The sound of my new surname, his surname, resounding in the room, sent a jolt of shock through me.

I'm not sure what stung more, his raised voice or the brutal honesty in his assessment of my life.

He was right. I didn't have a life, not really. After Franz’s death, I was a shadow of myself I didn't have my parents to fall to, I was ridden with social anxiety that didn't let me make friends and I had just Elena, I needed to be strong for her.

"The kitchen is right there," Dusan stated, his voice very flat, filled with disappointment, gesturing with the tilt of his head. “And you seem to have forgotten why we got married in the first place, if you want to go back to Florence that's not my problem. I won't let anyone be deadweight," Dusan finished, his voice cutting through the silence.

I gulped hard, weighing my options. Going back to Florence would put not just my life but Elena’s. Staying here in Petersburg is the only option.

I glanced back at my husband, studying his face closely. His brows were furrowed as she looked around the corridor, he didn't make any move to leave instead, he stood waiting for my reply.

“Fine, I will stay here in Petersburg but I have my requests.”