Chapter 9: You want this

~ Scarlett ~

A full week of relentless conditioning blurred into a haze of bruised wrists, chemical scents, and midnight shooting drills.

Under Madame Vane’s ruthless eye, I learned to track thirty moving targets in a crowded room, spot the subtle bulge of a concealed firearm under a tailored jacket, and swirl my stemware without looking like I was searching for poison.

I wasn't just surviving the training anymore; I was absorbing every lethal detail, storing it all away for the moment I could turn it against Nikolai and walk out of his life forever.

For now, I had to find a way to survive the night. Because tonight was my first real test in Nikolai’s private yacht, anchored off the coast on open waters.

The estate's staff had prepared my wardrobe. A floor-length emerald silk dress with a plunging, sharp V-neckline that left very little to the imagination.

The liquid silk clung to my waist and hips, exposing a bold expanse of cleavage that felt less like high-fashion elegance and more like walking into a cage wearing skin in front of predators.

Nikolai had barely spoken to me during the drive to the harbor, but his jaw had remained locked in a tight, white-hot tension from the second I walked downstairs.

Now, standing on the polished teak deck of the yacht as the ocean breeze whipped my red hair around my shoulders, I put my training to work.

Across the teak table sat Matteo Rossi, a heavy-set, silver-haired cartel distributor who handled the syndicate’s Mediterranean shipping lanes, flanked by four armed bodyguards.

My eyes swept the deck smoothly, mapping the perimeter: two guards positioned at the stern, micro-cameras hidden in the brass light fixtures, and Rossi’s right-hand man subtly shifting his jacket to conceal a snub-nosed revolver.

When the waiter poured iced champagne, I didn't reach for my glass immediately. I let Nikolai negotiate the terms of a massive cargo shipment, casually taking my glass and tilting it in a tight, elegant swirl.

My eyes tracked the bubbles, it was pure, uniform, clean. When Nikolai reached for his glass, I reached out smoothly, resting my fingers over his for a split second, taking his glass as if to inspect the vintage before handing it back to him with a serene, unbothered smile.

Nikolai’s dark eyes flashed with an intense heat as our fingers brushed, but he accepted the glass, taking a slow sip.

Rossi watched the interaction, his greasy gaze drifting slowly from my face down to the deep plunge of my emerald gown, lingering heavily on my chest.

A slow, appreciative grin spread across the older man's face.

"I see the rumors don't do you justice, De Santis," Rossi chuckled, leaning back in his chair and eyeing me like a rare piece of art.

"You usually surround yourself with cold steel and silent men. Where have you been hiding such a exquisite creature?"

I felt Nikolai’s entire body freeze beside me. The air temperature on the deck seemed to drop by ten degrees.

Remembering Madame Vane’s lessons on diplomatic poise, I didn't flinch. I tilted my head, offering Rossi a breathtaking, practiced smile that oozed high-society charm.

"Mr. Rossi is too generous," I murmured, my voice smooth as velvet, leaning into the seductive host role Nikolai had literally demanded I play.

Nikolai's hand tightened over his whiskey glass until the knuckles turned stark white. "We are here to discuss cargo manifests, Rossi," he said, his baritone dripping with suppressed violence. "Not my companion."

The meeting concluded twenty minutes later, the contract signed. Rossi stood up, smoothing his tailored suit, and extended his hand to Nikolai for a firm, businesslike handshake. Then, Rossi turned to me.

He didn't offer a standard handshake. Instead, Rossi reached out, taking my fingers in his, lifting the back of my hand to his lips, brushing a lingering kiss across my knuckles while his eyes swept over my neckline once more.

"A absolute pleasure, beautiful Scarlett. I look forward to seeing you at the Supreme Council Gala."

Beside me, Nikolai’s breathing grew dangerously shallow. I could feel the sheer, silent fury radiating off him like a furnace, his obsidian eyes tracking Rossi's mouth against my skin with a murderous intensity.

The moment Rossi’s speedboat roared away into the ocean spray, Nikolai’s hand clamped around my wrist like an iron vise.

He dragged me off the deck, pulling me down the carpeted stairs into the yacht’s private, master suite. He shoved the heavy oak door shut behind us, locking it with a sharp, echoing click, and turned on me like a cornered beast.

"Why did you wear that dress?" he spat, his voice a low, terrifying growl as he stalked toward me.

I stumbled back against the edge of the king-sized bed, clutching my wrist.

"What are you talking about? Your staff put this in my room! I didn't pick it!"

"You sat there exposing yourself to that old bastard!" Nikolai roared, his composure completely shattered.

The cool, untouchable syndicate heir was gone, replaced by a dark, green-eyed monster. "Smiling at him! Batting your lashes while he stared at your chest!"

"That is literally what you bought me for!" I yelled back, my chest heaving against the plunging silk.

"You spent three weeks having Madame Vane train me to play the charm host! I did my job! I read the room, I checked your drink, and I kept your client happy!"

"You don't smile at other men like that," Nikolai rasped, crowding into my personal space until his broad chest pinned me against the bedpost.

Before I could hurl another insult, his hands framed my face, and his mouth slammed down onto mine.

The kiss was wild, aggressive, and suffocating. A sudden, explosive rupture of all the unspoken tension that had been building between us for weeks.

It wasn't gentle, it was a punishment, a ruthless claim of possession. My mind short-circuited as his tongue pushed past my lips, tasting of bitter whiskey and raw rage.

He trailed his mouth down the sensitive line of my jaw, burying his face in the crook of my neck, kissing down my throat toward the exposed valley of my chest.

Panic and adrenaline surged through me. My hands came up against his chest, pushing with all my strength, but he was a wall of solid muscle. As his mouth slid back up to crush against mine again, I didn't hesitate—I bit his lower lip hard enough to taste the copper metallic tang of blood.

Nikolai hissed, pulling back an inch, a tiny smear of red shining on his lip. His dark eyes burned into mine, consumed by an unhinged, possessive fury.

Before I could leap off the bed, he grabbed my waist and tossed me back onto the mattress.

I scrambled backward, but Nikolai crawled onto the bed after me with terrifying speed. He grabbed my ankles, dragging me down the silk sheets until he settled heavily between my legs, his hips pinning mine to the mattress.

The weight of his body was suffocating, his chest heaving as he stared down at me.

"Get off me!" I shrieked, striking his shoulders, struggling wildly beneath his weight. "This isn't right! I did what you asked! I have a fiancé! I love Julian—I would never do this with you!"

"Stop lying," Nikolai growled, his voice dropping into a thick, dark register.

His hand slid slowly down the side of my hip, his calloused fingers tracing the warm skin of my inner thigh through the slit of my dress.

A sudden, betrayal of heat flared between my legs, my body reacting to his terrifying touch even as my mind screamed in rejection.

"Your mouth says one thing, Scarlett," Nikolai whispered, his fingers pressing firmly into my thigh, feeling the involuntary shudder that ran through my body. "But your skin tells a very different story. You don't want your soft, weak little fiancé. You want this."

"You're insane!" tears of pure frustration and fury pricked my eyes as I glared up at him. "That is a lie! I hate you! I am going back to Julian the first chance I get!"

Nikolai stared down at me for three long, agonizing seconds, watching the tears in my eyes and the defiant rise and fall of my chest. His jaw worked silently as he fought to regain control of the dark monster raging inside him.

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down until his bloody lip brushed the shell of my ear.

"I am not a philanthropist, Scarlett," he rasped, his hand tightening one last time on my inner thigh before he pulled back.

"I don't buy things for a hundred million dollars just to watch other men touch them. I claim what is mine."

He pushed himself up, stepping off the bed and smoothing down his black dress shirt as if he hadn't just tried to tear me apart.

He stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at me as I scrambled into a sitting position, pulling the torn silk over my chest.

"You have two days," Nikolai said coldly, his eyes dead and unblinking.

"Two days to get your mind right and accept where you belong. Because when we hit the mainland, this game ends."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the suite, slamming the heavy door behind him.