"Careful with the branches," Nikolai orders, shrugging out of his jacket.
He turns and sees me standing there, and something passes across his face. Something warm and satisfied that makes my stomach do backflips.Again.
"You got a tree," I breathe.
“I got a tree.”
“I’m surprised.”
"You said you wanted one." He says it casually, like it's no big deal. Like he didn't just go out and cut down a tree because I complained about the lack of Christmas decorations over dinner.
"It's perfect," I whisper.
His eyes lock onto mine, and the intensity in them makes my knees weak. "I’m pleased my wife likes it."
My wife.
Then he smiles, and it’s radiant and ruinous.
And I realize I don’t stand a chance against Nikolai Morozov.
16
NIKOLAI
Night has fallen and the lodge is quiet. The tree stands in the corner of the great room, decorated with ornaments I pulled from storage.
White lights cast shadows across Holly's face as she sits across from me at the dining table, two plates of Katya's pelmeni steaming between us.
"This is incredible," she says, spearing another dumpling. She's on her second glass of wine, her eyes twinkling.
"Katya's been making them since I was a boy."
"Hard to imagine you as a boy." She raises an eyebrow. "What were you like?"
"Feral. Unmanageable."
"Why am I not shocked?"
She takes another bite of pelmeni, and I watch the way her teeth catch her lower lip, trapping a drop of butter before it can escape.Fuck.
It’s hard not to imagine those lips wrapped around my cock. That mouth working me over while I fist my hand in her hair.
I take a long drink of wine. "We need to discuss the rules."
Her fork pauses halfway to her mouth.”The rules?”
“The obvious one being, don’t try to run. You won't make it off this mountain, and I'll be significantly less pleasant when I drag you back."
"Less pleasant than forcing me into marriage? That’s hard to imagine."
I bite back a smile. There's the fire I've come to expect from her. "Understand that this is your life now. This lodge. This marriage. Me."
Something flickers across her face. Something that looks almost like acceptance before she buries it behind another sip of wine.
“Anything else?” she asks.
“Yes, don’t ever take off that ring.”
