Page 24 of Arranged to Marry the Bratva

Panic rises in my chest at his implication. I debate between opening my mouth to tell him off or slapping his hand away when a calm, familiar voice cuts through the tension like a knife. "I believe the lady has made herself quite clear," Nikolai says, appearing behind the man. His eyes are icy, but there's an underlying fire within them that is bound to send a chill down anyone’s spine, but to me, his presence comes with an overwhelming sense of relief.

Instantly, I feel safe.

The man steps away and looks at Nikolai, laughing as he does. The man turns to face Nikolai, clearly sizing him up. "Come on, Nikolai. Since when did you become a knight in shining armor? Unless this one is yours?" he eyes me again sleazily, giving Nikolai an inquiring look.

"Don’t you ever talk about my wife like that," Nikolai replies smoothly, his tone leaving no room for argument. The man's eyes flicker between us, and I see his confidence falter for the first time. Before he can even reply, Nikolai's fist connects with the man's jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. My heart leaps into my throat from the crunch of fist against jaw, and I gasp, reaching over to clutch Nikolai’s arm.

"Let this be a warning," Nikolai growls, his voice low but deadly. "You are banned from all Orlov clubs. If I see you again, I won't hesitate to make sure you never step foot in any establishment ever again."

The man scrambles to his feet, cradling his injured face. "You'll regret this, Orlov," he spits before disappearing down the hallway.

As soon as he's gone, my legs threaten to give out, and I lean against the wall, trembling from head to toe. Nikolai immediately comes beside me. “Are you alright?” he asks, frowning down at me.

I nod, unable to find my voice just yet. To my surprise, Nikolai takes my arm and leads me to his office. I stand there, stunned, when he sits down on the couch, his fingers flying over the keys.

I stare at Nikolai, shaken by the coldness in his eyes. The same man who just came to my defense is now barely looking at me. Nervous energy causes my heart to race so fast I feel like I’m in physical pain.

Is he mad at me? Does he blame me for what happened? The panic gets worse as I try to comprehend why the hell he’s acting so cold.

But just then, Nikolai looks up. “I’ve sent out his photo to every club I own across every chain, as well as our partner clubs. He will never enter an establishment I own or invest in. You will never have to see that bastard’s face again,” he growls at me as he stands, to come by my side and take my hand with such fierce endearment that I now worry for him.

He wasn’t being cold. As I watch him take several deep breaths, and from the way his hand is shaking with rage around mine, I can see he was only trying to rein in his temper. I can't help but feel a grudging admiration for the strength it must take to control such powerful emotions.

"Anoushka… " His voice is strained, and I can tell he's still struggling to calm himself.

"Thank you, Nikolai," I whisper, trying to convey my appreciation through my trembling voice. "You didn't have to do that, but… thank you for protecting me."

He doesn't respond immediately, staring at the spot where the man had gripped my arm. When he finally meets my gaze, his anger seems to have subsided somewhat, replaced by something akin to relief.

He looks back at me and reaches with one hand, gently caressing my cheek, like he’s checking I’m all right. His eyes soften, and I reach out to touch Nikolai's arm, feeling the tense muscles beneath his expensive suit. My fingers graze him gently, trying to convey a sense of comfort and reassurance.

"Hey, it's okay," I say softly, looking into his dark, fiery brown eyes. "I'm fine now. You don't need to worry about me."

Nikolai's gaze holds mine for a moment, and the next thing I know, I’m totally and completely lost in it. Everything comes flooding in at once. The past few weeks, the way I saw him lose control today just because he saw me in danger, how close he stands now, and the way his arm flexes under my touch.

“Nikolai,” I whisper, parting my lips, my entire body in flames from needing him so much, like I’ll burn right here and now unless I have him. Before I can finish my sentence, he closes the distance between us in one swift motion. His lips crash onto mine like a wave hitting the shore, and everything makes me melt in his arms: desire, relief, fear, longing, and things I don’t have words for.

I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer while his strong hands wrap around my waist, anchoring me to him.

"Anoushka," he groans into my mouth, and I can feel his desire for me—raw, primal, and powerful. It's intoxicating, thrilling, and terrifying all at once. Because I never expected him to make me feel this way.

He slides his tongue into my mouth, and his hands slide from my waist, traveling up my back and pulling me even closer. I shiver at his touch, yearning for more, and arch my back, letting his hand further down till he cups my ass. I gasp and throw back my head, and he leans into me, my breasts pressing against his shirt.

His hands slide down to the hem of my dress, and he teases the skin beneath. Electricity sparks up my thigh until I tremble at my knees. I lift one leg, wrap it around his lower calf, and reach for his shirt, clutching it in my hands like a lifeline.

I don’t want this moment to end.

Chapter 11 - Nikolai

Anoushka's soft moans fill my ears as I devour her mouth, our tongues tangling like lovers lost for far too long. Her hands fist in my hair, nails scraping my scalp and igniting sparks of pleasure-pain down my spine.

Pleasure from how she feels in my arms, pain from all those days we’ve denied each other this ecstasy.

I grip her waist, fingers digging into the lush curves I've only dreamed of until now, and grind into her. She lifts one leg and wraps it around my calf, opening herself to me in invitation.

"Nikolai," she gasps against my lips.

That's all the encouragement I need. I grip her thighs and lift, carrying her over to my desk and settling her on the edge. Papers and pens scatter to the floor, forgotten.

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