Page 9 of Captured By the Russian Wolf

He stepped closer, his presence looming. "You stay by my side at all times. You do not wander off, you do not engage with anyone without me nearby. Understood?"

The overbearing control in his voice made my blood boil. Sure, he didn't see me as a partner, but I wasn't even sure he saw me as a person—just another asset in his empire. "Understood," I said tersely, barely holding back my irritation.

Nikita's cold eyes lingered on me, as if searching for any sign of resistance, but I gave him none. Finally, he nodded. "Good. We leave in two hours."

And just like that, he turned on his heel and left the room, his footsteps echoing down the long empty hall. I could feel hispresence long after he was gone, wrapping itself around me like the thick darkness of my room.

I spent the next two hours in front of the mirror, preparing myself for the role I was expected to play. The gown I slipped into was stunning, dark copper with a neckline that dipped just low enough to catch attention but still remained classy. It was designed to make me look like the perfect accessory to Nikita—polished, elegant, silent.

As I looked at my reflection, I couldn't help but feel a wave of resentment. This wasn't who I was. I wasn't someone who played by other people's rules and certainly not someone who let a man dictate my every move. But here I was, about to walk into a room full of powerful strangers, expected to act the part of the dutiful wife.

If it would bring me closer to my goal, then so be it.

When Nikita appeared again at my door, his eyes swept over me, lingering just a second too long on my figure before he gave a curt nod.

"Glad to see you don't have to be told to wear the clothes I bought for you," he said, and I caught the brief flicker of approval in his gaze.

I rolled my eyes but bit back the sarcastic retort. Now wasn't the time to pick a fight. I had to keep my wits about me tonight. The more I could learn about the people in Nikita's world, the more information I'd have to quell my nagging doubts.

We rode to the gala in silence. I stared out the window, watching the city blur by, but my mind was elsewhere. My thoughts kept circling back to Nikita, to the way he controlled every aspect of his life—and now mine. I couldn't let him get to me. I couldn't let this marriage stir my emotions, no matter how convincing we had to appear in public.

When we arrived, the grand entrance was lined with high-end cars and flashing lights. Cameras were stationed justoutside, capturing the arrivals of New York's elite. I could already feel the weight of the evening pressing down on me, but I straightened my back, lifted my chin, and put on the best smile I could muster.

Nikita's hand found the small of my back as we stepped out of the car, his grip firm and possessive. He guided me into the grand ballroom with ease, his posture confident, his power undeniable. I played my part, keeping my expression poised and polite, but inside, I felt like a storm was brewing.

We hadn't even made it through the first circle of guests when a woman approached us, her smile too bright, her eyes sharp.

"Nikita," she purred, extending her hand. "It's been too long."

Nikita offered a cool smile, shaking her hand briefly before introducing me. "Lily, this is Anya Rostova. She's an old... family friend."

The way he said "family friend" made it clear that Anya was more than just an acquaintance. I felt a flicker of jealousy, though I couldn't explain why. I knew what this marriage was. I knew there was no love between us. But still, the way she looked at him with such familiarity stirred something inside me.

"Lily, what a lovely name," Anya said, her tone sweet but her eyes assessing. "I've heard so much about you."

I forced a smile, ignoring the undercurrent in her words. "Likewise."

The conversation continued, but I found myself only half listening, my eyes scanning the room, taking in the crowd. It was filled with people I didn't know, people who were clearly comfortable in this world of wealth and power. As much as I hated to admit it, I didn't belong here. But I had no choice. I had to play my part.

After a few moments, Nikita excused us from Anya's company and led me deeper into the ballroom. We stopped to speak with more guests, exchanging pleasantries with people I didn't recognize. I smiled and nodded at all the right moments, but I could feel the warmth of Nikita's hand seeping into my back. It was a silent reminder to keep up my end of the bargain, yes. But it also strangely distracting.

It wasn't long before I found myself pulled into a conversation with a group of businessmen, their sharp suits and easy smiles masking the danger that lurked beneath their polished exteriors. I laughed politely at one of their jokes, but inside, I was calculating, watching the way they interacted with Nikita. They were wary of him, though they tried to hide it. He commanded respect wherever he went, and it was clear that these men knew it.

"You're quite the pair," one of the men remarked, glancing between me and Nikita. "You must be very proud."

I smiled, my words coming out smoothly. "Oh, I am."

The man chuckled, his eyes glinting. "Good. It's not easy standing by a man like him. But I'm sure you're more than capable."

I could feel Nikita's gaze on me, but I didn't look at him. Instead, I focused on the group, letting the conversation carry on without missing a beat. The longer I spoke with these men, the more I realized that I was beginning to enjoy myself. Not because I cared about their words, but because I knew that every smile, every laugh, was making Nikita uneasy. I could sense it.

I was playing with fire, and I knew it. But something about making him feel even the slightest bit out of control felt... thrilling.

The conversation with the group of men grew lighter, and I found myself laughing more—perhaps more than I should have. It wasn't that their jokes were particularly funny, but the effectit was having on Nikita was intoxicating. Finally, I was seizing the upper hand, if only briefly. I could feel his grip on my back tighten just slightly, his body tensing beside me. It was a subtle change, but for a man like Nikita, any show of emotion was a crack in his otherwise perfect armor.

One of the men, a charming, silver-haired figure who clearly had too much confidence, leaned in closer to me. His gaze lingered a little too long on my face before trailing down to my dress.

"You have excellent taste," he commented, his voice slick with admiration. "Though I suppose that comes with marrying a man like Nikita. He always did know how to choose... the best."

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