More than that, I’d been afraid of running into his father. But I’m not about to admit that aloud.
“Where are we getting food?” I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t think there’s sushi takeout here in the middle of nowhere.”
“I despise sushi,” Nikolai informs me. “But there’s plenty of food here.”
“Who’s going to cook? You?” I’m actually a fairly decent cook, but I’m not about to tell Nikolai that. I refuse to be his stand-in maid while he has me trapped here.
“That was the plan.” Nikolai gestures for me to follow him. “Come with me. I’ll get you a glass of wine while I start dinner.”
“Is it going to be poisoned?”
Nikolai looks as if he’s struggling mightily to hold onto his patience, which just pisses me off that much more.Hehas no right to feel impatient, irritated, or anything else. He’s the architect of this entire situation.
“Just come with me, Lilliana.”
He’s called me Lilliana, and not one of his nicknames, more since we got to the cabin than since we met. That feels like a sort of victory, especially since it means I’m getting under his skin. I haven’t given up on the idea that if I irritate him enough, maybe he’ll just divorce me when he’s tired of me in bed.
So I give in to this one thing, and follow him out of the living room.
He takes me into a huge open kitchen with a large island in that same pale wood with a black granite-topped counter and a rustic-looking iron rack hanging above it that holds all sorts of pots and pans. Nikolai motions for me to sit down at one of the leather-topped barstools, and then crosses to a black granite countertop on the other side of the kitchen, where there’s a wine rack made out of the same rustic iron.
“I seem to recall you liked the wine we had at dinner that first night.” He slides a bottle out of the rack, smoothly opening it and sliding a glass decanter toward where he’s standing. Everything he does seems effortless and practiced, and I wonder how much time he spends here.
“Do you come here a lot? To be alone, or—” The question comes out without thinking, and I stop myself halfway through, cursing myself for showing any interest in all in what he does. I regret it even more when I see the small smirk that appears at the corner of Nikolai’s full lips.
“Ah. Finally showing an interest in your new husband, I see.” He reaches up, opening one of the wooden cabinets, and gets out two wine glasses before crossing to the black metal refrigerator, where he pulls out a white paper packet and sets it on the counter, all without answering me yet.
Nikolai turns, looking at me as he leans one hip against the counter. “Is there anything I can get you while the wine breathes? Some water?”
“What are you, the fucking wait staff?” I glare at him. “Can you not answer one single question? I already regret asking at all.”
“You don’t answer very many of mine.” He reaches up into another cabinet, getting out a glass, and filling it with water before pushing it across the island to me. I am actually thirsty, but I don’t touch it.
“Fine. I don’t really care anyway.” There’s a droplet of condensation on the glass, and I’m reminded that my long nap this afternoon means I’ve drank as little as I’ve eaten today. I reach for the glass, hoping he doesn’t make a big deal out of it.
Nikolai unfolds the paper packet, and I see two thick steaks. “I hope you eat meat,” he says casually, as he starts to move about the kitchen. “I suppose I don’t really know if you were just being polite at the dinners before and our reception.”
“If I didn’t eat meat, I wouldn’t have been polite.” I feel slightly feral, looking at the steaks and the other food that Nikolai starts to set out on the counter—small red potatoes, a bundle of fresh-looking asparagus, butter, lemon, and herbs. I’m not going to be able to pretend not to be hungry once he starts cooking, if he’s any kind of a decent cook at all.
“Of course. That was foolish of me. When have you ever spared my feelings?” There’s thick sarcasm in his voice as he walks over to where I’m sitting, and sets the wine glass next to me, the decanter in the center of the island as one of his long-fingered hands curls around the edge of the barstool, his arm pressing against my back.
“You’re mine,krolik,” he murmurs. “We can find out more about each other over time, if you like. We can try to make some kind of peaceful marriage out of this—determine a truce, if you will. But I will only tolerate your behavior for so long. I’m giving you plenty of rope, Lilliana, because I know this is difficult for you. But in time, if you don’t reign in this seemingly natural obstinacy of yours, you’ll hang yourself with it.”
My skin chills at that, and I have to force myself to keep my face blank, not to react. “Is that a threat?” I ask, tipping my chin up to look into those blue-grey eyes, and Nikolai laughs softly.
“Again,krolik.If I were threatening you, you would know it.”
I don’t doubt that’s true. I can feel the powerful bulk of his body leaning over me, the looming presence of him, and I know he could make me do anything, do anythingtome, that he wanted.
I have to get out of here. I have to find a way out.
The most obvious answer is to get him to drop his guard. There’s no security here, no one except Nikolai to keep me trapped. But if he’s on edge because I’m constantly baiting him, he’s going to be watching me very carefully.
If I’m suddenly sweet and compliant, though, he’ll also suspect that something is up. This isn’t a game I can win without thinking through every move I make.
He steps back, pouring wine into both of our glasses. “Maybe this will help you relax a little. It’s our honeymoon,krolik. A vacation.”
Nikolai goes back to cooking dinner, and I take a sip of the wine. It’s delicious, and I’m pretty sure it really is the one we had at that first dinner he arranged for us, although I’m not certain. My palate isn’t that refined.