Chapter 4 I Remember You.

Nikolai had me on his shoulders till we were close to a room. He used one hand to open it while balancing the other on my back.

He stepped in and the bedroom was big. Fucking bigger than my whole entire garage.

Nikolai kicked the door shut behind us and dropped me on the bed. I bounced once and scrambled back against the headboard, pulling my knees up to my chest.

He stood close to the door already loosening his tie while watching me.

Then he walked up to me and bent down to where I lay on the bed. His face was too close to mine that I could smell his scent.

"You think I don't remember you, Lena?" he said and my heart stopped.

"I remember every single day," he said. "You were seventeen. Still a freshman. Even then you had grease under your nails. Who made you work so hard for years now, wife?" he said with a dripping low voice that sent me shivers. He lifted his hands as if he was arranging the neckline of my dress and I stopped breathing for a minute.

"I fell for a seventeen year old girl. And I couldn't touch you. Not till you were eighteen. That was the rule I made for myself." He held my arm and pushed the wedding cloth a bit higher. When he saw the bruises, his eyes went dark.

He hit the bed stand with his fist. The lamp rattled.

"Who did this to you?"

I covered my arm and shook my head.

"When you finally turned eighteen," he said, his voice getting harder, "they took you away. Your father pulled you the fuck out of Paris. Sent you back to that shithole club. And I lost you. Tell me who did this to you."

My heart was racing. He recognized me. All this time. He fucking knew me. He liked me then and he killed my dad's men just to have me. I ignored the question. It wasn't what I cared about at the moment.

"So this wedding?" I said, my voice shaking. "This wasn't about peace. This was about getting me back?"

"Maybe both," he said while there was a smirk on his face. "But don't think for a second I'm going to let you go now. And we will get back to these bruises."

He stood up straight and walked to the window. The moonlight hit his face. That scar near his mouth looked pale.

"When I want my night with you, Lena," he said, "I want you when you're passionate. Not scared and not shaking. I want you when you come to me because you can't help yourself."

My cheeks were heating up. "That's never gonna happen."

He turned to look at me.

"I won't ever fall for you," I said, my voice harder now. "You're a monster. You're holding me hostage. You think I'd ever want that? You killed my dad's men and threatened my family and you think I will fall for you?"

He didn't even flinch. Kept the same expression.

"Fine," he said. "But you're still sleeping in this bed tonight. And those old women are still checking the sheets in the morning."

He walked to the dresser and picked up a small knife. Just dragged the blade across his palm and the blood welled up red.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I said.

He walked to the bed and squeezed his hand over the white sheet. Blood dripped down and a big red stain spread out.

"There," he said. "Proof. Now go to sleep."

He wrapped his hand in a handkerchief and walked to the other side of the room. There was a couch by the window. He laid down on it, facing the ceiling.

I stared at the bloodstain. Then at him.

"You're really not going to—"

"I said no," he cut me off. "Now shut up and sleep."

I felt relief. I didn't expect Nikolai to be this way. I thought he was going to hurt me like other men. Like Alexei who only knew how to abuse.

But I can't fucking trust him. He's a monster. He kills, fights to claim what's not his, and who knows. He probably sleeps around with women too.

I laid there in that big bed, before getting up to the bathroom door inside the room. I changed to my mother's yellowed dress I wore underneath that heavy wedding gown.

When I came back, I sat beside him watching him breathe on the couch. His chest rose and fell. His eyes were closed.

Even as he slept, he was still fucking handsome. His hair was messy. He had grown to be the most ruthless and youngest biker in the whole territory, and it made me wonder at what age he became this monster.

After what felt like hours, his breathing got deeper.

He was asleep.

I waited.

Then I got up slowly. My bare feet touched the cold floor. I crept to the window and pushed it open.

Cold air rushed in and I looked down. Two floors. A garden below. I could climb down the trellis. Maybe.

It felt like everyone was asleep. I could hear voices but if I get caught, then I can come up with a good excuse.

I lifted my leg over the windowsill.

"You're not that quiet."

I froze.

His voice came from the dark.

I turned my head. He was sitting up on the couch, watching me.

"I wasn't running," I said, still with one leg over the windowsill.

"Bullshit."

He stood up and walked toward me letting out a soft chuckle.

"Let's say you get out the window," he said, stopping right behind me. His body was so close I could feel the heat off his chest. "You climb down. You make it to the gate. Then what?"

I didn't answer.

"There are more than fifty night men outside," he said. "Armed and trained. They might not know you're my wife yet. They'll think you're someone hiding to sneak out at midnight." He leaned closer. His breath was warm on my ear. "They won't ask questions first. They'll shoot."

My hands shook on the windowsill.

"So here's what's going to happen," he said. "You're going to close that window. You're going to walk back to that bed. And you're going to lie down. And in the morning, you're going to show those old women the blood on the sheet. And then we're going to have breakfast."

I didn't move.

"Lena," he said. His voice softer now. "Don't make this harder for yourself. You can't escape from me. Close the window."

I closed the window.

I walked back to the bed and laid down. He went back to the couch.

But I could feel him watching me.

I don't know when I finally fell asleep. But I did.

Morning came with banging on the door.

Why would people be banging on the door of a just married couple? They don't respect privacy.

I sat up quickly with a headache.

Nikolai was already out of the bed. I replayed everything that happened yesterday.

It's still very surprising that this whole marriage drama was due to Nikolai's obsession.

For one thing, I knew escaping from here would be hard.

I stood up to check the bloodstain on the sheet which was already dry and brown.

Nikolai opened the door to see Grecia standing there, and behind her two men while other women lined at her back, all here to check if Nikolai had slept with me last night according to their tradition.

My father was pushed to the front and a knife was held at his throat.

His eyes were wide. He was scared. His hands were shaking.

"Where is the sheet?" Grecia asked. Her voice was cold as ice. "Your father promised us you were a virgin. He gave his word. If there is no blood, he dies right here."

Part of me wanted to say there's no blood and I'm not a virgin because my same father handed me to a stranger. But it wasn't his fault really.

Only if that was Alexei being held at knife point.