Chapter 45

45

NIKOLAI

R ight after the Yakuza left, Nikolai collapsed and was dragged into the SUV where I waited, trembling next to an unconscious Boris. A Japanese man with piercings and tattoos who Aleksandr referred to as Sho sat chained to the door while Nadia held a gun to his head.

The next couple of hours are a blur of us rushing to the Italian Mafia's safe house where a doctor met us and took care of Nikolai. Once he was stable and both prisoners were secured, we made our way back to the mainland and swiftly placed a drugged up Nikolai in his bedroom in Manhattan. It's been almost fourteen hours since the stand off with Boris, but I can't move. I haven't left his side once, even when everyone told me to take a shower, to eat, to see the twins. I just shook my head and stared at Nikolai.

Even as Taylor, Kelsey and David cried, telling me that they were so worried and that they loved me. I mindlessly hugged them back and then made my way back to Nikolai .

I am staring at him right now, sitting at his bedside, watching his chest rise and fall with each shallow breath. My hands clean with hand sanitizer and a pack of baby wipes by my side. At some point, I will need a shower. I will need food, but that can be dealt with after Nik wakes up.

Sweat glistens on his brow, and I reach over, gently wiping it away with a baby wipe in my hand. His skin is clammy, his face drawn tight with pain, and it kills me to see him like this—broken, battered, barely holding on.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, my voice trembling. "This is all my fault."

The words hang in the air, unanswered, but I don't stop. Maybe he can hear me, maybe not. It doesn't matter. "You almost died because of me. I should've—" I stop, choking on my words. I should've told you. I should've told you everything.

My hand lingers on his forehead, tracing the lines of his face, and I can't hold back the tears any longer. They fall, hot and silent, as I sit there, watching him fight for every breath. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

For a long time, it's just the sound of his breathing, steady but too shallow. I wipe away more sweat, brushing his hair back from his face. He's so still, it's unnerving. I lean forward, resting my forehead against his arm, praying for him to wake up. To give me any sign that he's still here with me.

As if hearing my silent plea, there's a faint movement beneath my touch. His fingers twitch against the sheets, and then, slowly, his eyes flutter open. At first, it's just a flicker, his lashes barely lifting, but then his gaze meets mine, and he smiles—a small, tired smile, but a smile nonetheless .

"Hey," I whisper, my voice cracking. Relief washes over me so fast it feels like I might drown in it.

He blinks at me, his lips parting, but no words come at first. I can see the pain in his eyes, the exhaustion, but somehow he still manages to lift his hand and reach for mine. I take it, squeezing tightly.

I wipe away the fresh tears that spill down my cheeks, trying to pull myself together. "I—I need to tell your siblings. Let them know you're awake." I stand, about to turn toward the door, but his grip on my hand tightens. "Nik?"

"Wait," he murmurs, his voice rough, strained. "I need to tell you something."

My stomach drops, and a wave of nausea ripples through me. If he wants to yell at me about the twins, or about leaving the penthouse knowing the danger we were in, that can wait until I've at least seen him awake for five minutes. "We can talk about it later, okay? You should rest. I should-"

"No." He squeezes my hand again, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip. "I need to say this now."

His words are slow, deliberate, like he's fighting against the weight of unconsciousness pulling him back under. I sit back down, anxiety prickling at the edges of my thoughts. "Nik, you're hurt?—"

"I love you."

The words hit me harder than any blow. I freeze, staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"I love you," he says again, his voice firmer this time, though still laced with pain. "And it killed me…to think…that you could've died without me saying that."

I can't breathe. Tears burn my eyes, blurring my vision as his words sink in. He loves me. After everything—after the secrets, the lies, the danger—he loves me. And I almost lost him without knowing.

I try to speak, but my voice catches in my throat. "I…I love you too."

I can see the relief wash over him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and for a moment, it's just us—no chaos, no danger. Just us.

The door creaks open, revealing two hesitant figures in the doorway. Mia and Gio stand there, looking almost unrecognizable with how much they had grown since I last saw them. Mia held onto her favorite stuffed rabbit, Mr. Floppy, tightly as her wide eyes take in the sight before them. Beside her, Gio nervously clutches Nadia's hand and his sharp gaze seems to size up the situation. His concern is evident as he takes in my greasy hair, swollen eye, and bruised face.

"Sorry, I couldn't keep them away any longer." Nadia offers me a small smile, releasing Gio's hand in my direction.

"Mama?" Mia's voice trembles, staring at me like she's trying to figure out what happened.

I wipe at my tears quickly, forcing a smile. "Hey, baby." I open my arms, and they rush to me. As soon as they crash into me, I finally feel like I can breathe again. I pull them close, kissing the tops of their heads. "I've missed you both so much."

"We missed you too," Gio murmurs, sounding quieter than usual, his arms looping around me tightly. Mia presses her face into my side, her grip on Mr. Floppy firm.

Gio pulls back slightly, inspecting me, darting between myself and Nikolai. His face is calm, but his eyes are sharp, and I can tell he's piecing things together. "Mama…what happened to you?"

"I'm okay," I say softly, brushing hair out of his face. But his eyes remain fixed on me, unconvinced.

Mia, still clinging to my side, turns her worried gaze to Nik, who lies pale and weak on the bed. "Is Daddy okay?" Her voice is a whisper, trembling.

I freeze. Daddy. My heart pounds. Nik's eyes flick from Mia to me, a small, pained smile tugging at his lips despite his exhaustion.

"Yeah, Daddy's going to be okay," Nik says, his voice gentle and hoarse.

Gio, still watching me, frowns deeply. "You're hurt too, Mama. How do I know you're okay?" His voice isn't demanding, just practical, like he needs proof before he can relax.

I sigh, holding his gaze. "I'll explain everything to you, I promise, but right now…I'm just so happy to see you both."

He doesn't look satisfied, but before he can press more, Nadia steps in, her voice gentle but firm. "Why don't I take these two for some ice cream?"

Gio doesn't move at first, still focused on me. "I don't want to leave yet. You haven't told me anything."

I swallow, reaching out to touch his cheek. "I will, Gio. I'll talk to you about everything. Just give me a little more time."

His eyes search mine before he finally nods. "Promise?"

"Promise. "

Nadia gives me a soft look, then turns to Gio and Mia. "Come on, you two. Ice cream sounds pretty good right now, right?"

"Ice cream!" Mia's face lights up, and despite himself, Gio gives a small nod, letting Nadia take his hand.

They rush to Nik, kissing his cheek. "Get better soon, Daddy," Mia whispers.

Nik smiles, ruffling Gio's hair. "I will."

I stand frozen, watching them leave. Nadia glances back before stepping out with the kids. "You two talk," she says quietly, leaving me and Nik in the quiet aftermath.

As soon as the door closes behind them, I turn to Nik, my breath coming fast. "What…what was that?"

"What?" Nik asks, his voice tired, as he tries to sit up. His body protests, and he winces.

"They called you—Nik, they called you dad." My voice cracks, my hands trembling as I stare at him. "H-how do they know? How do you know?"

Nik watches me for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he lets out a sigh.

I feel like the floor drops beneath me. "But you didn't know?—"

"I know now," he cuts me off, his voice soft but firm. He shifts slightly, groaning at the movement, but his gaze never leaves mine. "I've known for weeks now."

I open my mouth to protest, to explain, to justify the secrets I've been keeping, but Nik shakes his head, struggling to get out of bed. "Nik—wait?—"

"I don't want to hear it right now," he says, his tone final.

He stands, slowly, wincing as he moves toward the bathroom. I follow, my pulse racing, but he doesn't turn around. He's moving stiffly, clearly in pain, but I can't let this go. "Nik, please?—"

He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before stepping into the bathroom. I linger by the door, watching as he turns on the shower. The steam begins to rise, filling the small space with heat and humidity. I know I should leave him alone, give him space to process, but I can't. I can't let him walk away from this without understanding what's going through his mind.

He steps under the water, and before I realize what I'm doing, I follow him in, fully clothed. The warm water hits me, soaking my hoodie, but I don't care. I stand there, watching him through the mist, my heart pounding in my chest.

Nik finally turns, his expression softening when he sees me. His hand reaches for mine, pulling me under the spray with him. The water beats down on us, but all I can feel is his warmth, his presence, the weight of everything between us.

"Nik, I just didn't know how-" I start up again, but his hands grip my soaked clothes, pulling me closer to him. His eyes search mine for a second, pleading. A surge of relief rushes through me, and a moan escapes my lips.

Nikolai growls, pinning me against the door of the shower. His lips are on mine, firm and punishing.

Nikolai's hands grip my wrists as he pushes me against the door of the shower. His lips crash onto mine, forcing them open with a roughness that sends shivers down my spine. I try to push him away, but his strength overwhelms me. My body betrays me as I involuntarily respond to his touch, my heart racing and my skin tingling. His kiss intensifies, his tongue eagerly exploring every inch of my mouth with a desperation that mirrors my own.

I try to pull away, to say something, anything, but his hands are everywhere, gripping my waist, my hips, my shoulders. He's relentless, his need overwhelming any resistance forming in the back of my mind. My hands find their way to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my fingertips. It's fast, erratic, just like mine.

His fingers trace the bruises on my skin, lingering on each one as if trying to memorize them. I flinch at his touch, the memories of my kidnapping flooding back in waves. But instead of pulling away, he presses closer, his body molding to mine as if he could absorb my pain. I open my mouth, but his stormy eyes lock with mine.

"Shh," he whispers against my lips, his voice hoarse and strained. "Don't."

I nod, unable to form words, my throat tight with unshed tears. His hands move lower, slipping under my soaked hoodie to cup my breasts. I arch into his touch, a silent plea for more, for every part of him I've missed in the last couple of weeks. He responds by kneading my flesh gently, his thumbs brushing over my nipples until they harden against his palms.

His mouth leaves mine, trailing kisses down my jaw, my neck, pausing to suckle at the sensitive skin below my ear. I shiver, my body trembling with need and fear and something else I can't quite name. His teeth graze my earlobe, making me arch closer to him, moaning and desperate for more.

"I thought I was going to lose you, Kotik," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion .

His words wash over me, filling the void where my voice should be. I want to tell him how much I've missed him, how much I've needed him, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I press my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the steamy air.

His hands slide down to my waist, lifting my hoodie over my head and discarding it on the floor. I stand before him in nothing but my soaked bra and dirty sweatpants, exposed and vulnerable. He takes a step back, his eyes raking over my body with a mixture of awe and sorrow.

"I thought I was never going to see this beautiful body again," he says softly, his fingers tracing the outline of a particularly dark bruise on my ribs as his jaw rolls, tension roaming through his face.

I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes. I reach out, cupping his face in my hands, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, even as he wraps his fingers around my waist so tight I gasp for air.

He presses his naked body against mine. The contrast between his warmth and the cool tile behind me forces me to mold my body deeper into his. Our bodies fit together perfectly, as if we were made for each other. His erection presses against my stomach.

His hands roam over my back, his fingers digging into my skin as if anchoring me to him. "You can't leave me, Gwen, never."

"Never," I repeat, but he places a hand over my lips, silencing me. His hands slide around the waistband of my soggy sweatpants. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he pushes them down my legs, leaving me standing in only my soaked underwear.

His eyes roam over me like the very first time. A groan leaves his lips as he whispers, "Ты меня когда-нибудь убьёшь!"

He slides two fingers in my underwear, my body immediately bucking at his touch. His palm muffles my moan, but he doesn't stop. Instead, he deepens the pressure, his fingers exploring every inch of me with relentless precision. My breath hitches, and I feel myself growing wetter, more desperate for his touch.

Nik's gaze never wavers from mine, his eyes dark with intensity. He withdraws his fingers, letting them trail down the inside of my thigh before hooking them under the elastic of my soaked underwear. He yanks them down, exposing me completely to the cool air of the shower.

My legs tremble slightly, but Nik's grip on my waist keeps me steady.

He circles my clit with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to make me bite my lip to stifle a cry. His other hand moves lower, his fingers slipping inside me with ease. I gasp, the sensation overwhelming, and Nik takes advantage of my momentary lapse in control.

He thrusts his fingers deeper, his movements rough and unrelenting. I arch my back, trying to find some semblance of balance, but Nik's hold on me is too strong. He angles his fingers just right, hitting that perfect spot inside me that sends my body into a spasm. I can't stop it.

"Shh," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. "No noise, Kotik."

Nik's thumb returns to my clit, circling it with a maddeningly slow rhythm. His fingers inside me quicken, matching the pace of his thumb. I bite down on my lip harder, trying to keep the moans trapped in my throat .

But it's no use. The pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming. A soft whimper escapes my lips, and Nik's eyes darken further. He leans in close, his breath hot against my ear.

"Bad girl," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous.

Before I can react, he pulls his fingers out and lifts me off the ground. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he carries me to the tiled wall of the shower. He pins me there, his body pressed firmly against mine, and I can feel his hardness pressing against my core.

Nik's hands move to my thighs, gripping them tightly as he positions himself at my entrance. He looks into my eyes, searching for something, though I'm not sure what. Then, with a suddenness that takes my breath away, he thrusts into me.

I gasp, the sensation of being filled so completely overwhelming. Nik doesn't give me a chance to adjust, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in with even more force. The impact against the tiled wall echoes loudly in the small space of the shower, but neither of us cares.

Nik's thrusts are hard and fast, each one driving the breath from my lungs. He pounds into me with a ferocity that leaves me clinging to him for dear life. My nails dig into his shoulders, and I can feel the muscles beneath them tensing with each thrust.

My own orgasm is so close, teetering on the edge, but Nik's hold on me is unyielding. He doesn't let me fall over that precipice just yet.

"Don't you cum until I tell you," he growls in my ear, and I buck in frustration, my release only building .

I tighten my grip, my legs locking around his waist as he continues his brutal rhythm. The water cascades over us, mixing with the sweat and the tears that have begun to fall from my eyes. But I don't care. All I can focus on is the way Nik feels inside me, the way he owns me completely.

I gasp as his fingers find their mark. His thumb presses harder against my clit, drawing small circles over the ball of nerves. The pressure builds, and I can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within me. The sensation is almost too much to bear, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan. Nik's eyes never leave mine, his gaze intense and unwavering.

I scream, my body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. He follows seconds later, his own release washing over him, his body shuddering with the force of it.

He holds me like that in his arms for a couple of moments, his breath washing over my face, and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him in close. I move my head so our noses nuzzle together. "I love you, Nik."

Silence fills the air as he refuses to reciprocate my words, instead slowly withdrawing from me. His fingers trail down my body with a lingering touch that sends shivers down my spine. As I am lowered to the cold tile floor, Nik's hands steady me, but it is his piercing gaze that holds me in place.

In an instant, his warm embrace turns into a cold grip as he cups my face in his hands. I sniff, trying to keep my tears at bay, but they fall and he wipes them away. His voice is laced with pain and anger as he speaks.

"I love you, Kotik," his voice is strained with emotion, "so much that I would move heaven and hell for you. But you…" He pauses, searching my eyes with a mix of pain and betrayal. "You don't love me enough to tell me the truth."

My heart constricts at his words. "Nik-"

"I can't trust you, Gwen."

All warmth leaves me as his hands fall from my face. "I can't." His jaw tightens, and before I can speak, he turns and walks out of the shower. I stay under the stream until the water turns frigid, alone and empty without his comforting presence. That night, I lay alone in our bed, haunted by his words. I don't get any sleep.