Ava
I didn’t know what I expected Nikolai’s room to look like and yet this right here manages to live up to the image I’d built up in my head.
Compared to my room, Nikolai’s is massive, a plain that seems to stretch the further It goes.
This amount of space seems absurd for one man and yet Nikolai seems to manage it just fine.
A king-sized bed laid in dark satin sheets dominates the centre. The colour matches the charcoal grey drapes that hang from the ceiling to floor window that leads to a balcony. Identical armchairs facing each other serve as the only piece of furniture in the large room.
There’s nothing remotely homely about the place, and yet, for some odd reason, it feels warm.
After I adamantly told Nikolai that there was no universe where I agreed to move into his room, he’d simply taken my hand in his and led me towards his bedroom door at the end of the hallway without so much as a word.
The words he’d whispered to me in the hallway, our forehead pressed against each other, rang through my mind as I allowed him to lead me to his bedroom. His words had sent the butterflies in my belly into a frenzy and my knees grew weak at the image of what might’ve been if he hadn’t left me this morning.
When I said he was driving me insane, I meant it. Even though I knew what we had last night was out of lust, not love, him doing stuff like moving my things into his room because he wanted me near him confused my heart into thinking that maybe, just maybe, there could be more.
My fingers lightly trace the edge of his nightstand table. I stop to admire the pattern on the lamp on top of it, which is strange because there’s nothing peculiar about it. It’s like every aspect of the room, dark and grey, yet it’s the only thing I can see to offer me any warmth.
I catch sight of another door just a few feet away. It’s somewhat hidden, and if I hadn’t looked up, I probably would’ve missed it. Curious, I take a small step towards it, my mind racing with all the possibilities of what might lie behind the door.
What if this time, instead of finding a single gun, I’ll find an arsenal of weapons, each one locked and loaded, ready to attack. I shake my head, wouldn’t that be a fire hazard?
But he did say weapons were a necessity in his world.
What if, instead of weapons, Nikolai is actually hiding a torture chamber in his room. That doesn’t sound too Farfetched, considering that he was the head of the Russian mafia. It’s possible he enjoys torturing his victims in places no one would expect, but wouldn’t the screams of his victims disrupt his sleep? Considering I’ve never seen the man look the least bit sleep deprived I guess I’ll have to cross that off my list too.
Then what the hell can he be hiding?
When I open the door, I expect to find something close to the monstrous images of blood and guns I’d created in my head, but instead, I’m met with something completely different and unexpected.
A closet.
Rows and rows of carefully coordinated fabrics, shoes and accessories all line up together filling the room.
One side of the closet is lined entirely with suits in every shade of grey, blue and black imaginable while the other side is lined with casual clothes. Sweatpants, plain shirts and even tank tops all make an appearance in the impressively organised wardrobe.
I’ve never even seen him wear a tank top before and yet he has more than I can count.
On the other side of the closet, ties are displayed like an art exhibit, arranged by colour, from the lightest shade of silver to the deepest shade of onyx.
I’m amazed by the amount of care doused in this room. Not a single thing is out of place here, and everything is colour coordinated, and where it wasn’t, it was deliberately arranged for functionality.
If I’m being honest, it’s obsessive to the point of absurdity, and yet, strangely enough, I don’t find it the least bit concerning the way I know I should.
My fingers trail over the rim of the shelf where he keeps his shoes, rubbing together, and then trailing again.
It’s clean. Not even a single speck of dust lines the front.
We’ve been gone for a week and yet somehow his shoes have remained in top condition.
I poke my tongue to the side of my cheek. How adequate.
My gaze drifts over the glass case set into the far wall, where watches and cufflinks glint under the soft lighting of the closet.
My feet move on their own accord until I’m standing in front of the case, and I gawk because there are no other words to describe what I do other than pure, shameless gawking.
The watches, in this case, look like they cost an arm and a leg, each one practically screaming luxury and excess, all the while calling me poor in fifteen different languages.
Don’t get me wrong, growing up with a father who’d spent his life trading weapons to the mafia had its perks. There was nothing I wanted I didn’t have but never had my needs been one of excess as it did one of satisfaction.
I’ve always been happy with the basics of life, only looking for more when it was necessary for my self-growth, not pleasure.
A dazzling wristwatch catches my attention. I remember seeing a similar model once upon a time in the pages of a magazine catalogue I can’t remember the name of.
Like everything else in this room, It looks like it costs a fortune, and without meaning to, my gaze drops to the wedding ring on my finger, which just so happens to be the only thing of real value I own.
Sigh.
“I got that piece in London”
My back stiffens as the sound of Nikolai’s deep, husky voice, brushes against my spine, momentarily immobilising me.
Crap.
I feel like I’ve been caught doing something I’m not supposed to, and even though I know I haven’t done anything inherently wrong in this situation, I can’t help the way my body reacts as if I have.
I turn to find my husband standing in the doorway, dripping wet, a white plain towel slung low on his hips as an unreadable expression etched into his features.
Droplets of water race down the chiselled contours of his chest, glistening against his sculpted form and gliding over his tattoos. My gaze trails the path the droplet creates until it disappears beneath his towel, and I’m left with a drier mouth.
Dark hair clings to his forehead, still damp from his shower, and his sharp, piercing green gaze locks on me and my skin suddenly feels hot all over.
“You’re dripping on the floor,” I say, my tone brisk as I try to mask the flutter of nerves tightening in my chest.
A smirk, both lazy and infuriating, crests his lips, and he pushes away from the doorway, fully stepping inside the room.
“You’re welcome to clean it up, Solnyshko”, He says, simply making his way towards where I am standing.
I roll my eyes, turning away to busy myself with anything that’ll distract me from his overwhelming presence.
I shouldn’t like how being in the same room as him lights every nerve of awareness in my body, and yet here I am, doing just that and not hating myself for it.
My lips tighten, just as I feel Nikolai’s presence behind me. The smell of his soap, cinnamon and something sweet invades my lungs, consuming my senses.
Nikolai always smells good, but him straight from the shower smells absolutely divine. It was messing with my senses and making me wish I could run my tongue over his body.
Biting down on my bottom lip, I ignore the way my pulse quickens as he reaches for my hand.
He fiddles with the wedding band on my finger, his touch eliciting goosebumps all over my skin and I’m vaguely aware of all the places we aren’t touching.
“Do want me to buy you jewellery, Solnyshko”
“Are you sure you? I have expensive taste I don’t think you can afford it”
It’s a stupid thing to say because we both know he can.
“Just tell me what you want and see if you don’t get it”
I roll my eyes ignoring the heat creeping up my neck.
“I’ll pass, thank you”, I respond dryly and attempt to pull my hand away from his grasp, which only prompts him to tighten his grip.
Nikolai makes a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat and then surprises me by lifting my hand to his lips and placing a kiss right on the diamond of my ring.
A small gasp escapes my lungs and before I even have a moment to savour the feeling of his lips on my skin, it’s gone.
Nikolai releases me, abruptly stepping away.
“Tell me when you change your mind”
He smirks at me then walks over to the part of the closet where his clothes are lined and pushes a button by the side.
The entire hanging rack rotates leaving me stunned as his clothes disappear and mine appears in their place.
“Whoa” The word escapes me before I can silence it, my eyes scan the neatly arranged row of my dresses, blouses, and jackets that were previously in my closet.
As with everything else around here, my clothes are coordinated by colour, and I wonder just how long it might’ve taken whoever did this to get everything right.
“I’m assuming you were looking for your clothes. You push this button to switch my clothes with yours,” He explains in a casual tone, pointing at the button he just pushed.
I nod then glance back at the row of clothing displayed in a mesh of synchronized fabrics.
My lips thin, “Are you some sort of Neat freak?” I blurt out, realising too late the words had burst out of me until Nikolai faces me.
“Neat freak?”
“Everything here is so organised. It’s honestly creepy how well everything is done. Did you even do it yourself?”
The corner of his mouth twitches, ” You think being organised is creepy?”
I nod, humming, “It’s just strange. I can’t imagine always having everything in order”
“Does order scare you Solnyshko?” his eyes meet my stare, a faint, teasing smile gracing his smile.
I shake my head, “Quite the opposite. I’m just worried you might not be able to handle me in your” I pause gesturing all around me, “space”
He lifts a brow. It’s clear he doesn’t understand what I mean so I continue.
“I’m nothing like you” I admit, “I’m a mess. What I mean to say is that I’m messy. I’m not a slob or anything like that but I’m not exactly tidy either. I leave my clothes on the floor when I take a bath, sometimes I forget to make my bed in the morning and I let laundry pile up for weeks on end”
I fol, d my arms defensively, meeting Nikolai’s gaze. “So, if you’re some sort of neat-freak dictator who’s going to lose his mind over a little mess, maybe we should rethink this whole rooming together arrangement.”
Nikolai’s brow quirks up again, but he doesn’t speak right away. Then, a small smile tips his mouth and he takes a bold step towards me, his presence crowding me like a tall shadow. I try not to let myself get lost in the way he looks at me but it’s difficult when his gaze burns deep.
“Are you done?” He murmurs low, grasping my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, stroking my jaw.
“I think so” I reply.
When I was younger my mother used to yell that I never cleaned up after myself. Leaving my clothes on my bedroom floor instead of in the hamper like everybody else was one of the few things we’d argue about.
“I don’t give a fuck if you’re messy Solnyshko. I want your mess. I want it because I want you, and if you think that a little mess is going to have me rethinking this arrangement,” His other hand drops to my waist, pulling me close to him. “Then you have me sorely mistaken. I cannot deny that I like my space tidy and organized, but when I said I wanted you, I meant it. I want every part of you, Solnyshko, even the parts you think are too messy for me to tolerate.”
A sharp exhale of relief shudders through me but besides that, I’m stunned silent.
How did this man know how to unravel every perfectly crafted thought I have with just a few syllables?
If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said he liked me, maybe even more than liked me.
Which is stupid. Just because you messed around a bit yesterday doesn’t mean he’s automatically in love with you, I chide myself.
Or maybe I’m wrong and I do in fact have a magic vagina and the power has somehow turned my husband into the kind of man who says things that only a book boyfriend can.
“What are you thinking about?” Nikolai mutters softly, drawing my gaze to meet his.
“I’m thinking,” I begin, shaking my head. I take a step back, forcing his hand to drop from my waist to his side and effectively returning the distance between us.
“I’m thinking I need a shower”