Page 10 of Captured By the Russian Wolf

I smiled politely, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at his compliment. "Thank you," I replied, keeping my tone as neutral as possible. I could feel Nikita watching us, his silence sharp, and for a moment, I wondered how long he would let this go on.

"Tell me, how are you finding married life with such a powerful man?" another one of the businessmen asked, his eyes twinkling with interest. "I imagine it must be... challenging."

I caught the smirk on his lips, his question laced with something more than just polite curiosity. This was a test, just like Nikita had warned me. They were probing, waiting to see if I would stumble, if I would say something that gave them insight into the true nature of our marriage.

I tilted my head slightly, offering them a smile that was just a little too sweet. "It has its moments," I said, my voice calm, steady. "But we're more than capable of handling whatever comes our way."

The group laughed, clearly impressed with my response, but as the sound echoed around me, I felt Nikita's hand move. His fingers pressed more firmly into the small of my back, sending a clear message. The game was over.

Before I could respond to the men's further questions, Nikita stepped forward, his presence commanding the space in a way that made everyone around him fall silent. Without a word, he extended his hand to me.

"Dance with me," he said, his voice low and controlled.

It wasn't a request but a demand wrapped in velvet. I hesitated for a moment, glancing at the men who had been entertaining me, their eyes wide with curiosity. They were watching us closely, waiting to see how I would respond to Nikita's sudden possessiveness.

But there was no choice here. Not really.

I placed my hand in his, allowing him to pull me away from the group and lead me toward the center of the ballroom. The crowd parted for us as we made our way to the dance floor, all eyes now on Nikita and me. I could feel the weight of their stares and caught the whispered conversations that followed us. This was what they had come to see—the powerful Nikita Volkov with his new wife, showing the world that he was still the one on top.

As he pulled me into his arms, his grip firm around my waist, the tension between us snapped into place like a taut wire. The music swelled around us, but it felt distant, irrelevant. All I could focus on was the feel of his hand on my back, the heat of his body pressed against mine—and the storm I knew was coming.

We moved together in silence, the room spinning around us as Nikita led me in a slow, deliberate waltz. I could feel the frustration radiating off him, the way his fingers dug slightly into my waist as if to remind me of the rules.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" he asked, his voice low and close to my ear.

I wanted to shrink away from his hot breath fanning my skin—or lean into it, expose more of myself to him. Instead, I glanced up at him, meeting his cold gaze.

"Enjoyed what?" I asked innocently, though we both knew what he meant.

"Laughing with those men. Testing me," he said, his tone sharp. "You think I didn't notice?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips, and I didn't bother to hide it. "I wasn't testing you, Nikita. I was just... mingling, like you asked. It seems like I did my job well."

His jaw tightened, and I could see the flash of irritation in his eyes. "Don't play games with me, Lily. I don't like being made a fool of."

My heart raced, but I refused to let him see how much his words affected me. "I'm not playing games," I said, my voice soft but steady. "But if you don't want people to notice the cracks in your perfect facade, maybe you should stop treating me like a possession."

His grip on my waist tightened slightly, pulling me closer. I could feel his breath against my ear, the heat of his body enveloping me. "You are mine, Lily," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. "And I don't care what those men think. Remember that."

The words sent a shiver down my spine, not just because of the way he said them, but because of the strange, undeniable pull I felt toward him in that moment. It was a pull I had been trying to ignore, but being this close to him, feeling the way his body moved with mine—it was impossible to deny.

The dance continued, and with every step, the pull between us grew stronger. I could feel my defenses slipping, my resolve weakening. There was something about the way Nikita held me, the way he commanded every inch of the space around us. It was dangerous, but it was also thrilling.

I hated that I was drawn to him. I hated that despite everything, despite the coldness, the control, there was a part of me that wanted more of him.

As the song came to an end, Nikita didn't let go immediately. His hand lingered on my waist, his eyes locked onto mine. For a moment, everything else faded away—the people, the gala, the world outside. It was just the two of us, suspended in a moment that felt charged with something I couldn't quite define.

"You're playing with fire," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "Maybe I like the heat."

His dark eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The air between us was thick, heavy with the tension that had been simmering for days—no, weeks. Ever since I had agreed to this farce of a marriage, ever since I had stepped into his world, there had been this unspoken pull between us.

And now, in this moment, I knew we both could feel it.

Before I could say anything, before I could even process what was happening, Nikita grabbed my hand, his grip firm, and led me off the dance floor. His movements were quick, deliberate, cutting through the crowd with ease. My heart raced, but I didn't protest. I couldn't. Something about the way he moved, the way he held me, left no room for objection.

He pulled me into a side hallway, away from the prying eyes of the guests, his grip on my hand almost crushing. The noise of the gala faded as we ventured deeper, until finally, he stopped in front of a door and pushed it open. Inside was a small private room—an office, perhaps, or a meeting space. It didn't matter. The moment we crossed the threshold, the door clicked shut behind us, sealing us in together, away from the rest of the world.

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