Ava
I dig the tip of my fingernails into my palm as I glare at my husband, waiting for him to answer my question.
The silence in the car is thick and it stretches to the point that it almost feels suffocating. Quite frankly I don’t think I’ll be able to keep the anger burning in my chest from spilling much longer.
Outside Benjamin casually leans against the hood of the car, his arms folded across his chest as he stares into the distance. He’s been standing there for the last five minutes, ever since I politely asked him to get out of the car while I had a conversation with my husband.
A husband who was quite literally getting on my last nerves with the whole silence thing he was going for instead of providing me with answers.
The parking lot is filled with people moving in and out of the airport with their luggage in tow. Nearby, a group of travellers rushed past, dragging their luggage behind them and happily laughing at something one of their members had said.
Their happy expression is a stark contrast to the scowl on my face and as I look at Nikolai, his head tipped back and eyes closed, the knot in my chest only grows.
He lets out a sigh, blowing the air softly through his lips, and sits up slightly. He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and I watch him pull out a pack of unopened cigarettes.
He flips the top open with one flick of his finger and takes one out, tapping it three times against the pack. He pushes the cigarette between his lips and pulls back the other side of his jacket, reaching for a lighter. He pulls out a small silver box and flips the lid, the sharp flick filtering through the air and slicing the silence.
Just as he’s about to light the cigarette my hand shoots out, snatching the lighter from his grasp. He arches a single brow, eyeing me in surprise but says nothing and simply watches the silver glint of his lighter disappear down my blouse. The lighter catches between my breasts, just above the centre of my bra, and I don’t miss the way his gaze darkens as he follows the movement with his eyes.
The corner of his mouth twitches, a smirk threatening to split his lips, “You honestly think that’s going to stop me from taking it back?” he asks and I shake my head.
“No, not really. But it will make sure that you’re not distracted so that you can tell me why the hell we’re in an airport.”
He leans back in his seat, a sound between a groan and a chuckle vibrating his shoulders. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and for the first time since he got back, I allow myself to look at him. Like really look at him.
Dark circles line the underside of his eyes and a slight crease forms between his brows. He locks his jaw, the tension in his face betraying the weariness of his body.
His posture is lazy, almost tired and the air of confidence that usually surrounds him is replaced with something more worn out.
“We’re going for a wedding, Solnyshko” he replies slowly. He sounded tired.
I lift a brow, not entirely convinced by his response “A wedding?”
He nods, his fingers drumming absently against his thigh. “A childhood friend of mine is getting married, and She invited me to spend the week at her family’s resort for the wedding.”
“She?” His childhood friend was a she? And what’s more, he has other friends?
“Yes, she. Why do you look so surprised?”
I want to say that it’s because the idea of him having a friend that isn’t Ivan or Kat sounds almost impossible to impossible but I don’t. I keep that part to myself and instead, I say, “Nothing”
He eyes me for a moment and then nods once before continuing
“Tatiana and I practically grew up together. Our fathers were business partners but her father was convinced that his daughter and I would make quite the pair. Fortunately, my father didn’t quite share his vision.”
“Fortunately? So nothing ever happened between the two of you?” I ask, ignoring the tight knot twisting in my chest.
He seems to ponder on it for a moment, and I can’t explain why that makes me clench my fists, but it does.
“Not really. We did try, though, for like a week while we were younger. Mostly her idea but it never worked out.”
Oh, “So the two of you never…” my voice trails off as I struggle to find the words. I’m not naive. I know that teenagers were curious, and Nikolai’s looks probably didn’t make it easy for the poor girl to resist his charms.
A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he watches me, an amused glint in his eyes.
“Are you asking me if I fucked her?” he asks sounding entirely too fucking delighted.
A blush creeps up my neck, colouring my face, and I look away.
I can still feel his eyes on me and when he chuckles, the sound bouncing off the windows of the walls of the car, I feel the blush deepen.
“I-” I clear my throat, but the heat in my face won’t dissipate.
Nikolai leans in slightly, his smirk deepening. Clearly, he enjoys watching me squirm. “I didn’t fuck her if that’s what you’re worried about.” He says and I lift my head, meeting his eyes. Those green eyes of his remain fixed on me, watching me intently as he waits for my response.
“I’m not worried about anything,” I reply defensively and he hums, the smile on his face widening.
“Of course you’re not.”
Nikolai’s eyes remain on me for a beat longer and then he leans away, settling back in his position.
“I haven’t fucked anyone since we got married, Solnyshko,” he says and I snap my attention to him, blinking rapidly. I’m sure I’ve misheard him, but the look he’s giving me tells me I’ve heard him just fine.
It’s almost impossible to suppress the effect his words have on me or the way they make my shoulders sag. Nikolai and I were married under less-than-ideal circumstances, and since we never discussed the terms of intimacy, I always assumed he was getting it somewhere else.
“Why?” The question passes my lips like a silent prayer and he lifts a brow in surprise. Nikolai’s far from ugly and since I know that any woman in my shoes would happily snag the opportunity to tumble in the sheets with him at a snap of his fingers, I knew that his sudden abstinence wasn’t because of a shortage in supply.
“Potomu chto ty yedinstvennyy, kogo ya khochu” (Because you’re the only one my body wants)
I furrow my brows, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words and, as usual, falling short.
“Fine” I huff, “Don’t tell me. But at least tell me why you left.”
A moment passes and just when I think he isn’t going to tell me, he opens his mouth,
“I had some business I needed to take care of.”
I narrow my eyes at him, frustration building in my chest. The simplicity of his words nearly pushed me over the edge.
“You could’ve at least told me. You were gone for a week? No phone calls, no texts, nothing, you were just…gone.”
I watch the guilt dance in his eyes but as soon as I see it, it’s gone and replaced with something else. Amusement.
The moment I notice the teasing glint in his eyes, I wish I had kept my mouth shut.
“Were you worried about me Solnyshko?” he asks, his voice low and a mocking smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.
I narrow my eyes at him, irritation flaring in my chest. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just wondering what to tell Kira if they found your body in a ditch somewhere.”
His smirk deepens, and he leans forward, crowding my space. The scent of his cologne mixed with the faded smell of leather fills my nostrils and I have to ignore the way my heart slams against my chest when I notice how close he is.
“You would’ve loved that, wouldn’t you?” He murmurs, his voice deep and gravely and I meet his gaze without hesitation.
“You have no idea,” I whisper in turn, my voice barely audible.
His eyes flutter to my lips, and neither one of us makes any effort to pull away. His gaze darkens and my heart thuds violently in my ears.
He lifts a hand and my eyes instinctively fall close.
I feel him toy with the end of a stray curl, and slowly, my eyes break apart. He twists the strand between his thumb and forefinger, watching in silent fascination as the curl wraps and unwraps around his finger.
His eyes meet mine once again, and I clear my throat, leaning away from him, inevitably forcing him to drop his hand from my hair.
“I have a request.” He says suddenly, shocking me. I lift a brow at him unsure if I want to hear what he has to say.
“What kind of request?”
“Tatiana’s father knows I got married recently. Therefore, he’ll be expecting me to show up with my wife, and since you flinch every time I try to touch you.”
“I don’t flinch”, I start to argue, but the words die on my lips when he lifts his hand again, and I move away.
His hand hovers just beside my ear his fingertips barely grazing the side of my face. I swallow.
“Okay then.” I exhale sharply. “Point proven. Go on.”
He sighs, “What I’m trying to say is that while we’re at the wedding, we’re going to need to act like a real couple, Solnyshko, which means you’re going to have to tolerate my touch and, in t, urn, touch me as well.”
The memory of his scars flashes through my mind, and subconsciously, my eyes drift to, where I know the bullet wound is located on his chest.
The idea of Nikola and I pretending to be anything other than what we are is almost unfathomable. There is nothing real about our relationship.
Every aspect of our relationship so far has been built on nothing but lies and revenge and while I’d be lying if I said that the idea of Nikolai and I being in a real relationship hadn’t occurred to me once throughout, throughout this whole day, I’m pretty sure you needed more than kissing and a few scar touching for a relationship to survive.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” I say honestly.
I don’t think Nikolai and I have what it takes to pull off what he’s asking. There’s too much hate between us to just pretend that it doesn’t exist even if it’s just for a week.
“Neither do I, but we have to try because if for any reason Dmitri suspects that what’s between us Isn’t real, then we’ll be forced to answer some questions that I know neither one of us is ready for. Especially you.”
“Questions like what?”
“Like why I really married you which I’m sure you don’t want to answer. Because if you were to tell him the truth, you’d have more than one bloodthirsty Russian on your father’s trail.”
“I thought two heads were better than one.”
He frowns, “Not in this case. As much as I would appreciate the help to bring your father down. Tatiana’s father can be pretty dangerous, and if he found out that you’re the daughter of the man who crossed him, I can’t guarantee what he’ll do to you when I’m not around to protect you. Do you understand me?”
“What do you mean by my father crossed him?” I asked, confused at what he meant by my father having crossed Tatiana’s father.
“A few years ago, before my father kidnapped you. Dmitri and your father had an under-the-table arrangement. My father either didn’t know or didn’t care enough to do anything about it. Things went wrong and because one of the guns wouldn’t go off when it was supposed to, Dmitri got himself shot. Luckily, he survived, but now he has a nasty limp that has refused to go away and has only gotten worse with time.”
“So, in other words, you want me to pretend like our relationship is real because you don’t want this Dmitri fellow to find out that I’m related to my father so that he can’t exact his revenge on me.”
He nods, “Exactly. It’ll be for the best that we’re the only ones who know who you really are.”
“We?”
“Kat and Ivan, along with Kira, will be arriving later this week at Tatiana’s family resort in Saint Petersburg.”
I blink at him, surprise filling my chest, “Saint Petersburg is all the way in Russia.” I say and he nods.
“Tatiana and her fiance live here in Chicago but Dmitri insisted that they have the wedding in Russia so that his mother can attend.”
I’ve never been to Russia before. What do I even wear to a wedding in Russia?
“My clothes. I didn’t prepare anything.”
I don’t think I have anything suitable for a wedding among my things.
“Don’t worry about it. I asked Kat to pack a bag for you. She packed everything you’ll need while we’re there, but just in case, we can go shopping for some clothes when we land later.”
I nod, grateful that at least what I was going to wear was taken care of.
“Okay. That’s fine.”
Nikolai holds out a hand regarding me with the kind of look that has the zookeeper in my stomach unlocking all the doors to the butterfly cage.
“So do we have a deal?”
I weigh my options, although I doubt to put much thought into it.
On one hand, I was to go to Russia, pretend to be madly in love with my husband so that a psychotic old limping Russian man wouldn’t exact a decade-old grudge on me and then on the other I could show the world how much I despise the man in front of me and end up dead.
I obviously picked the first.
I place my hand in his, sliding my palm against the rough callousness of his palm and lift my gaze to meet his eyes.
“Fine,” I agree and he nods.
“And one more thing Solnyshko.”
“What?”
His gaze drops to my chest.
“Can I have my lighter back?”