Page 29 of Captured By the Russian Wolf

But things had changed.

I hadn't expected this. I hadn't expected him to be anything more than the monster I'd built him up to be in my mind. But he was more. He was ruthless, yes, but there was a side to him I hadn't anticipated—a side that made me feel things I shouldn't. The way he looked at me sometimes, the way his hand would linger on mine just a second longer than necessary, the way he pulled me closer at night. The Nikita I had come to know wasn't just the man who ordered my husband's death—he was something else entirely. I wanted to be with him.

And that terrified me.

I stood by the window, staring out at the expansive grounds of his estate, my heart pounding in my chest. A small suitcase sat on the bed behind me, half packed, the zipper partially undone. I had been telling myself for days that I needed to leave, to get away before I cracked under the mounting pressure.

I couldn't be with Nikita, not after lying to him. He didn't even know who I really was, and I couldn't bring myself to tell him.

The guilt was eating me alive. Every smile I gave him, every laugh, every touch—it all felt like a betrayal. Not just to Alexei's memory but to Nikita himself. He didn't know that I had come into his life for revenge. And every day that I stayed, it became harder and harder to keep up the act. I wasn't supposed to feel this way about him. I wasn't supposed to care or want a real life with him.

But I did.

I glanced at the suitcase again, my chest tightening. I had to leave tonight. If I stayed any longer, I knew I wouldn't have the strength to walk away. And what I feared the most was staying here in this terrible limbo, of making him love me. No, not lovingme. I feared making him love the façade. What would life become if I stayed? I'd remain this pretender, forever longing for something I'd never allow myself to have.

With a shaky breath, I walked over to the bed and zipped the suitcase shut. I stared at it for a long moment, my hands trembling slightly as I grasped the handle. I needed to go. I needed to leave before Nikita saw through my lies, before he realized I wasn't the woman he thought I was. If I stayed, it would only raise more questions, and I wasn't ready for that confrontation.

Just as I reached for the door, I heard footsteps in the hallway. My heart jumped into my throat, and I froze, thesuitcase handle still in my grip. The door swung open, and Nikita stepped inside, his eyes immediately falling on the suitcase.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was cold, his expression unreadable. There was a stiffness in his stance, a dark edge in his tone that made my stomach twist.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "I… I thought I'd take a break. Get some space. Just for a few days."

He stared at me for a long moment, his gaze hard, and for a second, I thought I saw something flicker behind his eyes—something that looked like suspicion. But it passed quickly, replaced by the same cold mask he always wore when he was trying to keep something hidden.

"A break," he repeated, his voice flat.

I nodded, my throat tightening. "Just to clear my head."

His eyes never left mine, and the silence between us stretched, thick and suffocating. I could feel the suspicion in the air, the way he was watching me, analyzing every word, every movement. My pulse quickened, and I could feel the weight of my lie pressing down on me, crushing me. But I couldn't tell him the truth. Not when everything was so fragile.

"I was about to suggest something similar," Nikita said, his voice measured. He took a step toward me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I've arranged a trip for us. A few days away, at one of my private estates."

The air in the room shifted, and I felt my heart sink. This wasn't a suggestion—it was an order. He was keeping me close, ensuring that I wouldn't leave. And the way he said it, the way he looked at me… he knew something was wrong. I could feel it in the way his eyes lingered on mine, as if he was waiting for me to crack.

"A trip?" I echoed, trying to keep my voice steady, but it came out shaky. "When?"

"Tonight," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The car will be ready in an hour."

I stood there, staring at him, my mind racing. I couldn't refuse. If I did, it would only raise more questions, more suspicion. I was already walking a thin line, and one wrong move would bring everything crashing down.

"That sounds… nice," I finally said, forcing a small smile. "I could use some time away."

Nikita's expression remained cold, distant. He didn't smile back, didn't soften.

"Good," he said, his voice clipped. "I'll have someone take care of your things."

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me standing there with the weight of my deception pressing down on me like a crushing tide. I let out a shaky breath, sinking onto the edge of the bed as I stared at the suitcase. I had been so close to leaving, so close to walking away, and now I was trapped. Trapped in a web of lies of my own making.

The drive to Nikita's private estate was suffocatingly silent. I sat in the back seat, staring out the window as the city gave way to endless fields and forests, the sky darkening as the sun began to set. I could feel Nikita's eyes on me from time to time, watching, waiting, but I didn't dare meet his gaze. I couldn't. Every time I looked at him, the guilt surged inside me, a crushing wave that threatened to pull me under.

The car finally pulled up to the estate, a sprawling property surrounded by dense woods, isolated from everything. It was beautiful, but all I could think about was how trapped I felt.There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I had walked into this willingly, and now there was no escape.

As we stepped out of the car, Nikita placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the entrance. His touch was possessive, firm, reminding me that I was his, that I had chosen this path. I could feel the tension radiating from him, the way his fingers pressed just a little too hard, like he was holding something back.

We entered the grand foyer, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the marble floors. The estate was lavish, just like everything else in Nikita's life, but it felt colder, more intimate in a way that made my skin crawl. His men patrolled around, but hardly any staff roamed about, not like at the mansion. It felt like it was just the two of us, alone, with nothing but the truth hanging between us like a dark cloud.

Nikita led me into the living room, where a fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. But the warmth did nothing to ease the tension in the air. Nikita poured himself a drink, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was biding his time.

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