Chapter 4

Arianna's Pov

By the time I knew what was happening, Nikolai crossed the room in three tides, cornering, my back hitting the wall with a full force, his left hand on my waist, the right one resting on my neck deliberately.

His lips found mine like he had been hungry for this, and had waited for an eternity just to kiss me. The kiss was so hot that I had to struggle to free myself from him, but his firmness was tight. He held my hand in place, kissing me more, biting my lips and giving me a quick sting of pain. And somewhere between the struggles, I didn't know when I missed him back. My hand moved instructively towards his back, my fingers grazing his shirt..

God, how I missed this.

He slid his left fingers into me, and I had to gasp from the sensation.

“I missed this….fuck” he muttered in my mouth, still kissing me.

He didn't touch me roughly. His hands were deliberate and unhurried, like he had decided exactly what he was going to do and the only thing left was the doing of it. He tilted my chin up with one finger and looked at me with certainty, like he owned me.

"Niko….." My voice came out too thin.

"You said someone needed you." He studied my face. "No one needs you right now."

"That's not…"

"Arianna." The way he said my name closed the sentence before I finished it.

What happened next was a punishment. He made sure I understood that.

Before I knew it he carried me up and dropped me on a couch, then he went down on his knees before me, raising my skirt hurriedly like a dog who had been deprived of food for a decade.

“What are you….” My voice was cut shut from what he did next.

He brought his mouth into my pussy, his lips warm against my clits, as he sucked me.

“Fuck…. Niko…wait” I was struggling for air, the pleasure brought back memories, memories of us that I had hidden deep down, surfacing once again.

Nikolai paid a dead ear to my pleas, he just continued working his mouth inside my vagina. His tongue swirled in and out of me. He slurped on my juice noisily like he hadn’t tasted a woman's juice in a while, enjoying every bit of it.

I had to arch my back a bit, rolling my eyes, then coming up again, and running my fingers through his hair.

He knew what he was doing and he did it without asking and without apology, and the most humiliating part was that my body didn't care about the context. My body remembered him. Apparently it had been remembering him for five years without telling me, and now it was paying attention in a way I had no language to refuse.

He didn't let me look away. Every time I tried, he brought me back, our eyes holding firm. That was the punishment, I realized. The fact that he made me present for it, so that I couldn't disappear somewhere inside myself and wait for it to be over. He wanted me there. He wanted me to feel exactly what he was making me feel and know that he was the one making me feel it.

When it was over, I didn't move for a moment. I laid down on the couch, my breathing unsteady and the city still sprawled outside the window like nothing had happened.

Nikolai stood up and straightened his jacket cuffs. He looked completely composed.

"You have two hours," he said like I didn't have a choice.

I looked at him, confused for a while. "Two hours for what."

"To quit your job and pack whatever you need." He moved to the table and picked up his glass like we were resuming a business meeting. "And get to the airport."

Something cold moved through me. "What?" I stood up now, and straightened my skirt.

"You heard me."

"I'm not going anywhere with you." My voice was steadier than it had any right to be. "I have a life here. I have…"

"A job serving drinks to men like Marco." He didn't look up. "Yes. I know."

"It's my job."

"It was your job." He set the glass down and finally looked at me. "Quit today. They'll process it. I'll make sure you're not owed anything complicated."

"You can't just.." I stopped and breathed. "Where are you even taking me? You said you wouldn't take me home."

"I'm not." Something like amusement moved through his expression and disappeared. "You're not ready for that."

"Then where?"

"An apartment that's close to me." He said it plainly. "You'll have your own space. Your own room. You won't be missing anything — food, clothes, whatever you need, I'll provide it."

I stared at him. "You're describing a cage."

"I'm describing a significant upgrade from whatever you're currently living in." His eyes moved over me briefly "Which I'm guessing has a window that doesn't close properly."

The accuracy of that landed somewhere uncomfortable. I said nothing.

"Everything you need," he continued, "I'll give you. You won't have to work. You won't have to worry about money." He paused. "The only thing that changes is that you belong to me."

"I already told you. I'm not your…."

"This isn't a negotiation." His voice didn't harden. The fury in his voice filled the room. "I'm telling you how it's going to be. You can make it easier or harder for yourself. That part is up to you."

I stood there looking at him and I thought about the fire. I thought about my father, who had given thirty years of his life to a family that valued loyalty above everything. I thought about what it would do to him if the truth came out. Not just that I was alive, but everything I had done to stay that way.

And then I thought about Noah. I can't let him be a Voss. Never. Everything I had kept secret for many years would be ruined.

"I can't," I said. "I can't just leave." I breathed

"You can." His voice was firm.

"Someone needs me." The words came out before I'd fully decided to say them. "Here. Someone here needs me and I can't just get on a plane and disappear."

Something in Nikolai's face changed. It was small and barely perceptible, but it changed.

"Someone?," he asked, amusedly.

"Yes."

"Someone who needs you." He set his glass down slowly. "In this city. Here." He asked again to be sure of what he heard.

"Yes." I held his gaze. I could not look away right now. Looking away would tell him something. "It's not negotiable."

"A man?" His voice was even. Like he was waiting for a bomb to land.

"No."

"Then who." It wasn't a question, but a demand.

"It doesn't matter who." I said it as firmly as I could. "What matters is I can't leave them. I won't."

He studied me. I watched him read me and I tried to give him nothing. I had gotten good at that. Five years of practice.

But Nikolai had always been better at reading me than anyone else. That had been the problem from the beginning.

"You have two hours," he said finally.

"You're not listening to me…."

"I heard everything you said." He picked up his phone from the table, something shifting in his posture. "I'm telling you the timeline hasn't changed." He glanced at me once more. "And Ariana."

I waited.

"This person who needs you." His eyes were very steady. "How old are they?"

My blood went cold.

It was a specific question. He didn't ask what their name was, not who they were, but how old. Like he had already done some of the math and was just checking the final number.

"That has nothing to do with…."

"How old."

The room was completely silent. I could hear my own pulse. I could hear the city through the glass, indifferent and enormous, going on without me.

"Ariana." His voice dropped. "Who's child is that?”