Page 13 of Kneeling for Daddy
“Or that youabductedme?”
“No,” he corrects. “I didn’t abduct you. I brought mywifehome to live with herhusband. And you’re going to learn quickly that you will not be living anywhere else.”
I glare harder. “You can’t just?—”
“Actually, I can. And I did,” he interrupts, pulling out his phone and scrolling aimlessly like I’m boring him already. “And I’m not going to keep arguing about your living arrangements, Ani. My wife lives under my roof. End of discussion.”
“End of discussion?” I scoff. “You’re my husband. You arenotmy boss.” Nikolai’s attention is drawn to me, and I’m met with a devilish glint in his ice-blue eyes when they flick down at me. The way his dark gaze bores through me makes my stomach twitch.
He pushes off the counter and walks toward the hall. When I don’t follow, he glances over his shoulder and barks, “Come.”
“To where?” My voice cracks as I swallow down the sour trepidation rising from my stomach.
“Bedroom.”
My grip on the sheet tightens until my knuckles are a ghostly shade of white. “Not happening.” I vehemently shake my head and try to hide my apprehension.
He pauses mid-step, turning just enough for his voice to carry back over his shoulder. “Relax, Ani.Thatis not a law I am remotely interested in breaking this morning. Or ever.”
My face heats with embarrassment over my assumption. Hating myself—and knowing he’s baiting me—I follow.What else am I supposed to do?Stay in the foyer dressed like a Greek statue for the rest of our—hopefully short—marriage?
My bare feet pad across the dark hardwood floor as I follow him down the hallway. When I step in behind him, the room is exactly what I expected. Like the rest of the apartment, the vast room has floor-to-ceiling windows covering two of the walls.Apparently, he’s not modest.They overlook the city, light spilling in just enough to soften the dark space. The bed is massive—big enough for three or four people—and draped in charcoal-gray sheets.
Nikolai crosses the room to an equally large closet and opens a few drawers. He returns and tosses a pair of gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt onto the bed. “Here.”
I look at the clothes, then back at him. “I’m not wearing your clothes.”
“You plan on clutching that sheet all day? Or are you going to saunter around here naked?” His gaze slowly rakes down my body. It’s infuriatingly slow and unapologetically obvious. Based on the smirk that follows, I know with certainty that he is imagining exactly what I look like naked.
I straighten my shoulders and loosen my tight hold of the sheet, the fabric drooping down my back. “If you think I’m some timid little virginal mafia bride, you are going to be sorely disappointed.” Releasing my grip entirely, the sheet flutters to the floor and leaves me completely bare before him. His eyes roll hungrily down my frame.
“I think you’re stubborn enough to try and prove a point,” he laments, leaning against the doorframe and continuing to soak in the sight of me. The smirk that follows is confident and a little cruel. “And I’m patient enough to enjoy the view until you realize you’re cold.”
“Fucking charming,” I mutter, my cheeks burning at how easily he gets under my skin.
“It’s honest.”
“Honesty is highly overrated.” I move toward the bed and lift the shirt, not because I’m conceding, but because the thought of spending the day wearing nothing but my birthday suit inhisapartment feels like playing a game I’m not ready to lose. I pull the shirt over my head to find it threaded with the same sandalwood and tobacco scent I caught in the car. It’s unfair how annoyingly good he smells. “You could have at least picked something that doesn’t smell like you.”
His grin widens just enough to make my pulse jump. “That was intentional.”
“I hate you.”
“Noted.” He steps back with another smirk, giving me space. Not wanting to miss a second of this show, his eyes stay locked on me, watching intently.
I pull on the sweatpants and find they are far too big, which I assumed they would be based on our size difference. The waistband settles low on my hips, and the open legs pool around my feet, hiding them entirely. I drop the hem of the T-shirt, and it falls past my mid-thigh, leaving me swimming in his clothes. Gesturing at the outfit he provided, I sass, “Happy now?”
“I quite preferred you without them, but this will do.”
“Bite me.”
“Is that an offer or a request?” he flirtatiously asks with a quirked brow.
“Ugh!” I roll my eyes and brush past him toward the door. “You’re disgusting.”
“And yet,” he falls into step beside me as we head toward the living space of the apartment, “you’re still here.”
“Only because you literally dragged me here, kicking and screaming, then proceeded to lock me in.”
