Possessive Boss, page 13
I'm not much of an actress, but I doubt it will be too difficult to pretend that I like Nikita. He's handsome, and just imagining that I get to bed him and see what's beneath his clothes puts a grin on my face. "I'll do my best."
Although, we haven't discussed sleeping arrangements, let alone other factors.
Will he expect me to sleep with him once we're married? I press my lips tight together but don't voice my question, not in front of Hannah and Madisyn, let alone my son. Some things should be discussed in private.
"Wait, you two are getting married?" Hannah's jaw drops as she tries to wrap her head around our discussion.
Nikita gives a firm nod. "She's in danger until she's part of the bratva. The Italians aren't backing down."
"And you've tried arranging a meeting with the Italians?" Madisyn asks. She glances from Nikita to me. Her brow is furrowed, and her bottom lip pouts.
Either Madisyn doesn't like me, or she doesn't want me to join the family. I can't get a solid read on her, but she's not welcoming me into the family with open arms.
"Otello is the kid's biological kin." Nikita nods toward Zion.
I appreciate his discreetness. It's not a conversation I want in front of Zion.
"What does that mean?" Zion asks.
Nothing gets by my son. I rub his back and gesture for him to play with Kira and Bay. "I'll explain when you get older."
Zion rolls his eyes and exhales a breathy sigh as he joins the girls in playing with their toys. "I swear the kid is already a teenager." I'm not sure that I'll be ready when those years come.
Nikita is trying to hide a smile on his face. He clears his throat, and the tough-guy approach returns, the smile gone. "Until Otello is dead, Lucy and her family are under our protection."
"You're planning on killing him?" I ask, and my voice catches in my throat. I hadn't wanted the man executed, but I do want him to leave us alone.
Is that what it will take to feel safe?
I'm no murderer, and I don't intend to marry one, either. "You can't kill him," I say before Nikita has time to answer.
"I won't need to if we're wed," Nikita says. "Antonio respects the truce between our feuding families. Once you're part of the bratva, you will be protected."
"And my debt to the Italians?" I ask. "They own me."
"Not anymore." Nikita strides toward me, closing the gap between us. His hand comes up, pushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "The Italians will never touch you again. You will work for us, and they know better than to start a war with the bratva."
"Work for you at the club?" I ask. Is the club even still around? Besides, that hadn't gone well when his employee insisted that I dance. I'd never seen the jealous and possessive side of Nikita before. Dare I say I liked when his attention was on me.
Is that what marrying him will be like?
Nikita glances me over and then at the girls. "My bride will need a dress for tomorrow. What do you girls have that she can borrow?"
I grip Nikita's hand as we step into the courthouse. I'm terrified, to say the least. My hands are shaking, and I'm trying not to faint from the lacy white dress that had been in Madisyn's closet.
While it isn't a wedding dress, it is certainly passable.
The judge and Nikita speak freely, both familiar with one another, as we enter the courtroom.
"Nikita!" the judge says. "Are you sure you're not in the wrong courtroom?"
His joke burns me, and I tighten my grip on Nikita's hand. I'm not doing this out of love or obligation. It's strictly out of a desire to protect my family.
But is that the only desire I feel for Nikita? He's been kind and generous and has gone out of his way to ensure that my son is safe. He chased me to Chicago to protect me. I can't imagine anyone else ever doing that, caring that much about me.
Maybe in some strange way, that's love.
I've never been in love, not the romantic type. I've had my share of boyfriends and lousy romances, but I've never been head over heels for a man. I don't think I work that way. That's not how I fall in love.
Besides, isn't that lust? Maybe it's better that I don't feel the constant need to fuck the man I'm about to marry. It'll keep us sane, communicating, and maybe even save this silly marriage from becoming something it shouldn't.
But who am I to say what it should and shouldn't become?
Nikita wraps an arm around my waist and tugs me closer. Is it all for show? Or does he want any of this, to marry me and spend the rest of his life with me?
"Your Honor, it would be a privilege to wed my fiancée, Lucy Quinn."
"And you want to marry this man, Nikita Krylova?" the judge asks, his attention on me.
Does he think that I may be under duress? He stares, waiting for my answer.
"I do, Your Honor," I say with more conviction than I feel truthful.
Pleased by my response, the judge waives the twenty-four-hour waiting period and has us exchange vows. We're married in the courthouse. It's not utterly romantic, but neither is our relationship. And that works for me.
Luka waits outside the courthouse, offering to drive us back to the compound. "Congrats," he says, but there's a glimpse of something else behind his gaze.
Jealousy?
Anger?
Nikita grins, and he either doesn't notice or isn't letting it bother him. He smacks Luka on the back with his right hand while holding my left hand, keeping me close to him. "You'd better propose. Hannah isn't going to wait around forever."
Luka growls, and his top lip twitches. "I've been trying to, and you two seem to steal my thunder."
I bite down on my bottom lip, doing my best not to be amused by his outburst. The man could take down any number of assailants. He's tall, robust, and good-looking, no doubt. But the fact that we're married before he is, seems to have his boxers twisted.
"We could help you with your proposal," I suggest. While I don't know much about Hannah, it's clear that she is madly in love with Luka, and any proposal would probably make her happy.
"Like you helped me the last time?" Luka snaps at me.
"Watch your tone," Nikita scolds. "All she's offering is to help. If you're not man enough to get down on one knee—"
I don't want them fighting over something so ridiculous. "Hey!" I interrupt Nikita. "It wasn't like you got down on one knee and proposed to me."
"That's different," Nikita says, and his eyes narrow. "Whose side are you on?"
"I know better than to cross my husband," I say with a wicked grin—I like the fact that I can refer to Nikita as my husband.
Why is that?
The warm, fuzzy feelings growing in the pit of my stomach shouldn't be there. This marriage is for protection. Right?
Nikita plants his lips on mine. Unlike while we were in the courthouse and the judge told us that we may kiss, that lip lock had been sweet and chaste. There hadn't been the heated passion behind the kiss like there is now.
My insides grow toasty as his hand is firmly planted on my lower back, dipping me slightly as he pushes his tongue inside of my mouth.
Nikita is firm, forceful, but not in a necessarily bad way. I've never had a man take control like Nikita does with me. It stirs up something I don't quite recognize inside me.
Passion.
He has a way of adding fuel to the simmering heat, and just as my legs grow weak and I desire to kiss him, pull him tighter, and admit I might enjoy this with him, Nikita pulls away.
"We should get on the road," he says.
I'm breathless. Swept up in the moment, the world is dizzying, and that's the only thing that Nikita has to say about kissing me?
Was I the only one who felt anything?
His hand is at my lower back as he escorts me to the black SUV and opens the door, helping me climb inside. I wait for him to shut the door, but instead, he glances at me with a wicked smile. "Scoot over."
Luka climbs into the driver's seat and starts the engine. His attention and focus is on the road while Nikita seems enthralled in devouring me.
Not that I mind. On the contrary, I'm rather enjoying his blazing focus on me.
Nikita's hand is rough and warm as he strokes my jaw, tilting my head, his lips close but not kissing me yet. It's like he's examining every inch of me, what I have to offer him.
"I will ravish you tonight," Nikita says. "But not until you've given yourself over to me completely."
My breath catches in my throat. What does he mean by giving myself over to him? Isn't that what I've done by marrying him?
We arrive back at the house, and as much as I want to explore every inch of Nikita's body, Zion is awake and will be looking for me.
I skirt past Nikita and Luka, glancing around for my son. His laughter emanates from the dining room, and he's got an enormous plate of French toast and a tall glass of orange juice in front of him. Bay is seated across from him, and Hannah is at the head of the table between them.
"Congratulations!" Hannah offers a warm smile, and if there's any hint of jealousy, I don't see it. She's either good at hiding it or happy for us. "I want to see the ring," Hannah says.
I step farther into the room, showing her my left hand and the giant diamond wedding band that Nikita slid onto my finger during the ceremony.
"And it fits!" She's shocked.
"It's a little big," I say. And while it's barely noticeable, I don't want the ring to slip off and lose it. "I can get it resized." The diamond had to cost a fortune.
"Well, it looks amazing," Hannah says. There's a genuine smile on her face, and she throws her arms around me, hugging me.
I'm a little taken aback by her warmth and the friendly gesture. "Welcome to the family," she says in my ear. "Now, I need your help."
"Anything," I whisper, pulling back slightly.
Nikita is in the hallway with Luka, chatting about something. Whether it's the nuptials or business, I don't know and don't care. Nikita smiles and nods as I lock eyes with him. The man is gorgeous in his black suit. Sure, he always wears a dark suit, but something is striking about him today.
Maybe it's the smile on his face. It's not something I've seen from him too often in the short time I've known him.
"I need you to help me with Luka."
"Help you. How?" I ask. Things seem good between them. From what I can surmise, Luka wants to propose and Hannah is happy with him. What could she possibly want from me?
"I want to propose to Luka," Hannah says.
I gasp and cover my lips with my hand. My eyes must be wide because I'm trying not to laugh and pick up my jaw.
"What?" Hannah folds her arms across her chest. "You don't think I should because it's not traditional?"
The girl is putting words right into my mouth. "I think he loves you and intends to propose. Wasn't that what he was doing when I interrupted?" I may not have been here for long, but I can see the longing gazes and heated stares they exchange. It's like the two of them want to ravage each other at every possible opportunity.
Hannah purses her lips. "I should be mad at you," she says and glances past me at the two men in the hallway chatting. "But I'm not."
I sense that while she may not be mad, there might be a tinge of jealousy in that we made it down the aisle before they did.
"We're family," I say and ruffle Zion's hair as he eats his breakfast.
"Mom!" he whines and scrunches his nose as he stares up at me. "You're going to mess up my hair."
The kid does have gorgeous dark, thick hair. He gets that from Otello. I grimace at the thought of that man, his DNA making up part of my son.
"You look great," I say.
"When can I go back to school?" Zion asks. "I miss my friends."
"That's something that Nikita and I need to discuss." He'd been pulled out of school when he'd been whisked to Chicago with my sister to keep him safe. That hadn't gone well, and sending him back to school with the knowledge that the mafia might still go after my son, is concerning.
While I'm not fond of homeschooling Zion, perhaps we can find someplace that might be safer.
"But, Mom," Zion whines.
Nikita strolls into the dining room and stands in front of one of the empty seats, his hands on the back of the wooden chair. "Can I have a word with you?" he asks, his focus on me.
"Finish your breakfast," I say and drop a kiss on Zion's forehead.
I step out into the hallway with Nikita. Luka is heading around the corner of the hallway. It's just the two of us, although I'm sure there are several guards nearby.
"When do you planning on telling Zion about us?" Nikita asks.
I bite down on my bottom lip. I want my kid to think that I'm marrying for love. The last thing in the world I want is for him to believe that this marriage is to protect him, even if that is in part true. "I haven't figured out how," I say.
"We could tell him together," Nikita answers.
"I need to sit down and have a serious conversation with Zion." After all that we've been through in Chicago and now moving into this place with Nikita, I'm sure my son has a plethora of questions. And he deserves the truth, even if it's sugar-coated because of his age.
"We both do."
"And what do you think we should tell him?" I ask. I'm surprised that Nikita wants to be a part of that conversation. Is he worried that I'm planning on telling my son that the bratva now protects us?
"Just what he needs to know. That you married and we will be living here, indefinitely."
Exhaling a heavy sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'd like him to think marriage is about love, not an exchange of services. A six-year-old shouldn't know the things that we do." I want only to protect Zion.
"And I'm not suggesting we explain it all to him, only that we love each other and that I have a very large family here to help out."
That's one way of putting it, and it's not exactly wrong. Nikita does have a large family, and from the short time that I've known them, they've been supportive and accommodating to our situation.
"That might work," I say and exhale a heavy sigh. I glance back in the dining room at Zion and Bay, eating at the table. Both are quietly giggling about some secret they're sharing.
Hannah glances down at her phone, oblivious to whatever is occurring between the two children. At least they don't seem to be getting into any drastic trouble while eating their breakfast.
"We also need to figure out enrolling Zion in first grade," I say. "I pulled him out of school temporarily because of what's been going on with the mafia and when I sent him to live with my sister."
"He should be enrolled locally, at the private school nearby."
I inhale a sharp breath. "I can't afford that," I say.
"It's taken care of."
"What?" He can't seriously be offering to foot the bill. He may be marrying me, but Zion isn't his son. He doesn't have to pay child support and the costs of raising a kid.
"We're married," Nikita says. "I'm helping with his tuition."
While I want my son to have the best education, I can't accept what Nikita offers. "That's more than generous, but it's too much."
"Are we not married?" Nikita asks.
I open my mouth and expel a soft breath. "This isn't about our marriage."
"Zion is my son and my responsibility," Nikita says.
"Except he's not." While I want Nikita's help, I'm not going to bleed him dry for expenses regarding Zion. "You're already doing too much. Letting us stay with you, marrying me to keep me from the mafia's clutches. I can't ever repay you for all you've done."
Nikita takes a step closer, invading my personal space. His breath tickles my cheek as he caresses my jaw. "Malish, you are all I desire. Your happiness and safety."
"And that's enough?" I ask. It doesn't seem like it would be, considering all that he's doing for me.
"For me, it is," Nikita says. "We will speak with Zion together. And I will handle his tuition and enrollment in Manhattan Academy. That's the same school that Bay attends. They have a preschool and elementary school on the same campus."
My stomach is in knots, and I tug my bottom lip between my teeth. I can't even fathom what Zion's education will cost, but it won't be cheap. And I will be forever indebted to Nikita. Although, aren't I already?
After breakfast, Nikita and I take Zion outside into the garden for a stroll and a chat. We both want to discuss the new situation, our marriage, and the confines of the mansion doesn't seem large enough.
I'd prefer to take him on a walk to the park, but Nikita has insisted that until news of our nuptials reaches the mafia, I am still in danger, and so is Zion.
How much longer will I be forced to look over my shoulder? Who is to say that Otello will leave us alone after they discover Nikita and I are wed?
"Can we go to the park?" Zion asks as we head outside. The sun is still high, the rays beating down, making the air warmer. It's bright, and I squint as we head under the shade of one of the cherry blossoms.
"Maybe later," I say, avoiding the topic and any further discussion about leaving the premises. We can't stay locked up inside the house forever. Can't some of the guards escort us to the park and make sure that we're safe?
"I wanted to talk to you about something," I say.
"Is Aunt Katie all right?" Zion asks. His bright green eyes stare up at me. There's concern laced in his brow.
"Yes, she's fine," I say and pull him in for a hug. "She's with her boyfriend, and they're staying someplace safe."
"With Declan?"
"That's right," I say. "Just like Aunt Katie is staying with Declan to be safe, we're staying with Nikita." This is not how I wanted the news to go, returning full circle to the danger that led us here.
I glance at Nikita, not that I expect him to help fix this, but I want him involved. He is going to be a part of Zion's life.
"Your mother and I love each other very much," Nikita says and offers a friendly smile to Zion. "We both want to keep you safe and thought it best that you live here, go to school nearby, and for the two of us to get married."
Zion glances up at Nikita. "Are you my dad?"
