Page 79 of The Russian's Bought Bride

“That’s harsh.”

A low laugh escapes him, and I find myself liking that sound more than I should.

“You handled them better than most people would,” he says. “That means some praise is due.”

“Then I guess I won’t complain,” I murmur, trying not to read into it too deeply, despite definitely doing exactly that.

His mouth twitches again, and after a beat, he adds, “They liked you.”

The statement catches me off guard more than it should, and I feel a subtle warmth reach my ears. “How could you tell?”

“Ivan didn’t stare at you like he was picking you apart, and Sergey was trying his best to be a comedian, so I’d say that went pretty well.”

“Are you saying they were actually being nice?” I ask, both curious and amused. “Should I anticipate worse next time?”

“Yes, that was the better side you saw, but I wouldn’t be too worried about seeing the other,” he answers, smiling slightly. “You should be grateful Roman behaved himself, too.”

“He’s terrifying even when he’s happy.”

He laughs quietly again, and warmth spreads annoyingly through my chest at the sound.

“You’re not wrong.”

After a beat, Nikolai glances at me, then murmurs, “I’ve been thinking lately, with everything going on, it might be good to start a foundation of some kind.”

My brows furrow lightly at that. “A foundation?”

He nods. “To help other victims of medical malpractice. It could be yours to manage, if you’re interested.”

That throws me even more as I look at him, finding only sincerity in his features. The idea strikes me as a valuable one, but at the same time, doubt creeps in around the edges.

“I wouldn’t know how to lead something like that.”

“You could learn, and you wouldn’t have to do it alone,” Nikolai suggests with an understanding tone. “I have the feeling you’d be more capable of it than you realize. Think about it, at least.”

Something warm settles in my chest at that, and I nod while I sit with the idea.

I’ve never overseen anything remotely similar, but he might have a point. I know firsthand what it’s like to lose someone to fraud, and ever since it happened, I’ve been instilled with this urge to reassure others.

Still...I don’t know if I’m the right person for the job.

The city lights blur past outside the windows while we continue down the highway, heading back toward home.

The realization hits me suddenly enough to make my stomach twist, because somehow, despite every logical part of me resisting the idea, Nikolai’s house has started feeling more familiar than temporary. Safer than imprisoning.

That thought should probably concern me, but instead, I glance toward him and let the idea linger.

His sleeves are rolled slightly from earlier, exposing strong forearms and the occasional tattoo as they climb up higher towards his shoulders. His profile is sharp but far too attractive beneath the passing city lights, with a calmer expression than I’ve seen from him in days.

And for one terrifying second, I let myself imagine what this might feel like under different circumstances. Normal ones…like an average man driving me home after meeting his family. With no violence, no Bratva, and no grief hanging over everything.

Just us.

The fantasy hurts almost immediately because it can never really be that simple, and Nikolai is far from an average man with an average life.

Still, I can’t quite stop myself from wanting pieces of it anyway, regardless of what that could mean for me.

I stare at him longer than I mean to, getting lost in the sight of him and the thoughts of how far we’ve come.