Chapter Seven

Sophia's POV

I knew men like Nikolai.

Mafia bosses with a knack for risking their lives and the lives of everyone around them, no matter the cost. I hated men like him.

I paced back and forth in what I could only describe as an overrated master bedroom. I was in his bedroom, not by choice. Just like our sham of a wedding wasn't by choice either.

Jack had basically tossed me in here; you would think the bedroom had bulletproof doors or something to keep me away from whatever messed-up trouble Niko had gotten himself into.

For a second, I wondered if he was okay, but then I quickly killed the thought. Why should I care if he gets himself killed?

I had been pacing for about an hour when the bedroom door swung open. 

Nikolai stormed in, his jaw clenched and his fingers fidgeting at the collar of his shirt.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded.

"Not right now." He muttered, barely looking at me

He walked away from me and into his extravagant walk-in closet. 

"Yes, right now!" I followed him closely behind, "Look, I don't know what messed-up thing you've got yourself into, but I am not going to get killed because I was forced to marry a maniac!"

He furiously fiddled with his cufflink now. Besides the obvious, there was something wrong. His usual humorous demeanor was gone, replaced by something sinister.

"You're my wife now.” He said quietly, “ I'll be damned if anything happens to you." His eyes flickered with something that felt almost tender before hardening again,  "I have a reputation to uphold." 

I can't believe I thought he cared about me for a second there.

He returned to fiddling with his cufflinks that seemed to be as stubborn as he was.

I was losing my mind just watching him battle it out with the poor thing.

"Jesus," I exclaimed, "Here, let me." I walked up to him, still in the ridiculous dress the stylist he had hired had thrust onto me. Sure, if I were getting married to the man of my dreams, this would be the perfect dress. Instead, I had married a monster.

He didn't fight me as I stood less than a foot away from him. I could hear him breathe, and the air around me changed. Maybe it was the smell of his cologne, or the fact that I knew he was watching me, intensely as my fingers brushed against his wrist.

For a second, I forgot he was the enemy. That was the effect standing so close to him had on me.

Snap out of it, stupid! I thought to myself. I cleared my throat lightly as it would somehow break the delusion I was in.

I could feel his eyes on me, and his breathing got quieter with each second.

The moment I got the cufflinks out on both sides, I took an urgent step back.

"There!" I said. 

"You know," He started, and there it was, that humorous demeanor I had begun to get used to, "You're getting the hang of being a wife...looks good on you."

We held eye contact for what felt like forever, and there it was again. The delusional thought that something about the way he looked at me seemed like he cared for me.

"Can you just tell me what happened out there?" I demanded, breaking away from my apparent psychosis. 

He let out a sigh, unbuttoning his shirt, slowly.

I was frozen in place. His eyes stayed on me, daring me to look away, and my eyes stayed on him, fighting not to give away the nerves coursing through my veins.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about." There it was again, the humor, but this time, I despised it once again.

His fingers worked the very last button, and my heart thumped so loudly, I prayed to God he couldn't hear it. 

The last thing I needed was for him to know he had some kind of effect on me. 

"What did those men want?" I demanded. 

He took a minute, and looking me straight in the eyes, he peeled his shirt away, revealing his bare skin and broad chest. "You." He said, but something about the way he said it threw me for a loop.

Something about the way he said it made my insides melt. I was all mushed up to my core. 

I looked away, trying my best not to give anything away.  "Wh...what do you mean?"

"They wanted you, my love." I could tell he had a cheeky smile on his face. I looked back at him in confusion. "Why?"

"I guess your father finally sobered up." 

“There’s no way my father sent them,” I argued, “He could barely…”

Nikolai interrupted me, his voice low, “Maybe you don’t know your father as well as you thought.”

He moved closer to me, and I moved backwards, our eyes locked the whole time.

My back hit the wall, there was nowhere left for me to run.

He placed one hand beside my head, keeping me still. His bare chest brushed against the sheer fabric of my dress, and the air between us felt like it was running out.

“Your father is one of them, Sophia.” His fingers trailed lightly down my jaw, “He will always be one of them.”

My heartbeat ramped up. “You mean one of the men who killed your father?”

Niko’s eyes darkened. He leaned in until his lips hovered just above mine. I could feel his breath tickle my skin, and everywhere else.

You could crack the tension with a knife, and the worst part, there was something dangerous about it.

“You know, it’s funny.” He murmured, his voice sent shivers down my spine, “Someone told them exactly where to find us tonight. My private estate. On our wedding night?”

He tilted my chin up with two fingers, and my breath hitched as our eyes met.

“So tell me, wife…how did they know?”

I froze in place.

“You think I had something to do with it?” 

“You tell me.” His body pressed closer, and his grip on my chin got stronger. “Maybe you played the perfect blushing bride while stabbing me in the back.”

I let out a chuckle, “You give me way too much credit.”

He paused, his lips slowly brushing against my ear as he whispered,

“If I find out you had anything to do with this.  I’ll make you wish I had killed your father instead of marrying you.”