Ava
I was married. Married. I still couldn't believe it. I was married to a man who crashed my wedding ceremony, declaring that my father had sold me to him when I was only seven. That couldn't have been legal. Oh, and that’s not even the crazy part. Far from it actually. Not only was I married to this crazy person, but apparently, this man was the long-lost heir of the Russian Mafia who was supposed to be dead. And they say weddings aren't fun. I drag my gaze towards the man seated in the driver's seat just a few inches away from me. He sits there composed and unruffled, an effortless control radiating off him like he hadn't just hurled me on his shoulder and out of the church like a caveman seconds ago. There was no denying the fact that the man beside me was the most painstakingly gorgeous man I had ever seen. His chiselled jaw, sharp cheekbones and tousled dark hair framed a face that belonged on the statue of a Greek god. But that still didn't give him the right to do what he did. He had no right to storm into my wedding ceremony, threaten me and then marry me. Annoyance flickered inside me, and I bit the inside of my cheek. It pissed me off how attracted I found myself to him. Because I shouldn't be attracted to him. He was my husband. My captor. For God's sake, the man was a murderer. That alone should have easily killed any attraction I harbored for him. Except it didn't. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He hadn't said a word since we exited the church. When my father tried to approach me after the ceremony, Nikolai made sure that he was able to get within an inch of me and for that, a part of me was grateful. Truth be told, I wasn't ready to face my father yet, and I doubted I ever would be. My father saw me as nothing more than a commodity. Something to use to escape the web he so intricately wove for himself each time the strings became too tight. It infuriated me just how much I let myself believe that he loved me but most of all I felt betrayed I felt blindsided because no matter how coldly my father had treated me, I never once thought that he would willingly trade my life in exchange for his. I return my gaze to the window, watching as the blurred scenery passes by in hurried flashes. It was a Saturday, and the streets were littered with weekend shoppers and couples strolling hand in hand who were oblivious to the fact that my entire world had just come crumbling down moments ago. I let out a rough breath and glanced back at Nikolai whose eyes remained fixed on the road as he drove us to God knows where. “Where are we going?” I ask, breaking the silence that had previously enveloped the car. My gaze shifts briefly from his face, stopping on the black ink peaking from under his shirt. He offers a glance in my direction, and for a second, our eyes meet, and I’m instantly sucked into the intensity behind his irises. Focus, I reprimand myself. He was my captor. My captor. Nothing more nothing less. “Home,” One word. A hundred meanings. Although I’d grown up in a home, it stopped feeling like that after my mother's death. After she died my father preferred to spend his time locked in his study or supplying weapons to dangerous men rather than spend time with his own family. Up until today, I made excuses for him. He just lost the love of his life it's understandable he didn't come for my recital. He's busy, he'll come to my exhibition next time. Time and time again I had made excuses for a man who had no problem trading me to save himself at the drop of a hat. What does that say about me? I let out a breath and leaned further into my seat. I try my best not to roll my eyes as I say, “Oh really, how informative” The sarcasm in my tone isn't lost on him. “And where is that?” Silence. For some reason, his lack of a response only irks me further. I lean forward, snapping my fingers in his face. “Hello, I’m talking to you,” I say. His grip tightens around the steering wheel as his jaw tightens. He was pissed. Good. I wanted him to be. “You know, for someone who was awfully chatty earlier at the church, you seem to be pretty good at the whole silent brooding thing.” Still nothing. But there's a faint twitch in his right index finger that tells me he heard me and that's enough to satisfy me. For now. Sinking further into my seat, I returned my gaze outside the window, fixing my eyes on the blurred scenery. The ride ‘home’ seems to last forever. My back aches from sitting too long to the point that I'm overcome with relief when the sight of a black steel gate comes into view. I guess the Russians were big on security. But then again, if I were someone who derived pleasure from killing people, I guess a heavy metal gate would be just what I needed to shield myself from the consequences of my actions. Two heavily built men stand on either side of the gate. Their eyes lock on the vehicle as we approach, and once we stop in front of the gate, one of the men walks towards us. Nikolai lowers the window, and the man says something in Russian, to which Nikolai replies also in their native tongue. The man glances at me and makes an odd sound at the back of his throat before returning to his post at the gate. I watch as He leans in and whispers something to the other guard. The second guard nods and steps aside. He presses a button and the gate falls open with ease. Nikolai drives down a path of smooth concrete. Palm trees stood on either side of the road against the backdrop of the sky, and I was immediately blown away by the scenery. For a place filled with hardened criminals, there was a surprising calm that filled the surroundings. The road eventually thins into a driveway, and my breath hitches at the two-story house that comes into view. The house or should I say mansion, is a masterpiece. It's a stunning example of Mediterranean architecture, with its warm, ornamented exterior painted in soft cream and adorned with terracotta roof tiles that gleamed under the sun. It was breathtaking. Aside from the security guards littered around various points, the house appeared to be empty and I wondered if anyone other than Nikolai lived there. Nikolai stops the car beneath a covered portico parking between two other cars. The engine dies down into a low hum before he turns the key switching it off. I start to reach for my door to unlock it, but Nikolai stops me, his hand gripping my wrist as my fingertips brush the door handle. The warmth from his fingers stops me in my tracks, and I look at him, then at his hand, then back at him. "What are you doing?" He doesn't respond, he simply unwraps his fingers from my wrist and unlocks his door. In four brisk strides, he rounds the vehicle, stopping at my side. He unlocks the door, and when I make no move to step out of the car, he speaks. “Get out.” A command. Okay then. Mumbling under my breath, I gathered the hemline of my dress and stepped out of the vehicle. I paused, realising he hadn't moved away yet. His body brushes against mine and goose flesh erupts all over my body. We were barely inches apart, and as much as I tried to repress it, the memory of our kiss at the altar resurfaces in my mind. The feeling of his lips against mine, the roughness of his touch, the way he swallowed all of every sound that left my throat like he was afraid they would slip past him. As if he sensed my thoughts, his gaze dropped to my lips and I watched his eyes darken. For a moment, I feared he might lean in and kiss me again like he did at the altar, except this time it wouldn't be in Infront of confused spectators and a pissed off ex soon-to-be father-in-law and his son. It would be just the two of us, in his parking lot. The thought is enough to pull me back from whatever trance I was momentarily trapped in and I step away from him, creating some much-needed distance between us. He lingers in the space for a beat, eyes fixed on me before leaning back, his expression unreadable. “Follow me,” he says, his voice calm and commanding. I do. Trying my best to keep up with his long strides. Not only was my husband inexplicably tall, but one of his strides equalled two of mine, which made keeping up with him rather exhausting, Husband. The word stops me in my tracks. As of yesterday,whoasn’t even in a relationship and now I was married. Fucking married. Can you believe that? Me, the girl who had never been in a relationship was now entangled in a lifetime commitment with a man who only saw me as a possession to be claimed. I can’t help it, I laugh. I laugh until I’m gasping for breath and I’m certain I am going to pass out. Nikolai stops mid-stride and turns around to face me. A frown creases his forehead as he witnesses the way I throw my head back in laughter. “Something funny, Solnishko ?” He questioned, his tone tight. I shook my head, wiping the corner of my eyes with my ringless finger. “I-I’m sorry,” I say, in between fits, “It's just that this whole thing”, I gesture between the two of us, “is fucking hilarious, don't you think?” The corners of his lips twitch slightly, fighting an annoyed smile “Funny isn't the word I would use to describe your current situation, Solnishko” There's an edge in the way he says those words that cause the laughter to quickly die down on my tongue. What the fuck did he mean by that? And why was he still calling me that horrible nickname? I had no idea what it meant but I was beginning to think that it was some kind of russian insult. "Would you stop calling me that already? It's getting annoying." Nikolai's lips twitch, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Solnishko?" He repeats that horrible nickname again and I can barely keep the annoyance bubbling within me at bay. "Stop it. How would you like it if I constantly insulted you in a foreign language you had no idea how to speak?" My question only seems to spark his amusement further. "Solnishko is hardly an insult" "Then what does it mean?" He doesn't respond. Instead, he condescendingly shrugs his shoulders and turns around, continuing his descent to the entrance of the house, leaving me momentarily rooted in place. it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep up with his mood swings. I didn't understand him. One minute, he was giving me the silent treatment, and the next, he was teasing me. It was confusing. Tightening my hold on my dress I follow him, trying my best to keep up with his pace until he stops in front of the entrance. He reaches for the doorknob but before his fingers can brush the cool brass the door is yanked open. Standing on the other side of the door is a girl that could be no older than six years old. She's wearing a set of Blue pajamas and standing barefoot on the floor, her eyes are wide and she's sprouting a grin that reveals her missing tooth. Dark curls frame her round face and she looks up at Nikolai with the most adorable expression I had ever seen etched into her eyebrows. But it's not just her expression that stops me in my tracks. No, it’s the shade of her eyes. They're green, forest green to be precise. Just like the man beside me. “Papa!” she exclaims, her eyes shining with excitement as she looks at my captor as if he hung the moon. My heart stops. Papa?Nikolai Volkov “Papa” Kira's excited squeal hits me before I see her. She runs up to me, wrapping her tiny arms around my leg like a vine. It's a habit she's developed recently and one I planned on breaking - eventually. Her small, chubby face beams up at me, and her eyes sparkle with the kind of joy that I've become immune to. I let out a breath, resting my head on her curls. “What are you doing here Kira? You're supposed to be with Lydia” Kira giggles, clearly missing the annoyance in my tone. She's made a habit of escaping her nanny at every little opportunity since we got back from Russia. It was a habit that was becoming increasingly worrisome, considering she was a five-year-old child who thought that every opportunity should be seized to play hide and seek. Shaking her head, she grins up at me, revealing a missing tooth that was still intact when I left this morning. I make a mental note to put a hundred-dollar bill under her pillow tonight because the last thi
Ava I hardly get any sleep throughout the night. Each time my eyes fluttered shut, Nikolai’s face would emerge from the darkness, just inches from mine, the words he said yesterday lingering in the space between our barely touching lips. I had spent the majority of the night reminiscing about the events of my botched birthday turned wedding day trying to make sense of my current situation. Letting out a disgruntled groan, I turn away from the harsh rays of sunlight streaming in from my windows. Everything was so confusing. My entire life had changed. Everything I knew had been ripped out from under my feet and without an anchor, I had come crashing down into a pile of confusion and uncertainty. Nothing about my life felt real anymore. In the last twenty-four hours, I had gone from birthday girl to wife-to-be, and now I was married to a man whom I barely knew anything about and trapped in his house. Could my life get any worse? The low rumble of my stomach forces me out o
Ava The walls of Nikolai's office are cloaked in a deep charcoal that blends seamlessly into the dark wood design, creating an intense atmosphere. The shelves are filled with all kinds of books, new and old, all turned to the spine. The books are arranged in such precise colour coordination that they look a bit too perfect. The space is much bigger than I expected it to be and I'm almost consumed by its vastness. A large mahogany desk stands at the centre of it all, polished to a gleam with neatly stacked papers arranged on each side, and not a single paper document out of place. A sleek black leather chair stands just behind the desk, its high back giving off an air of authority against the soft glow of the crystal chandelier above the room. Nikolai occupies the chair, matte-framed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as his pen moves frantically over a document, his brows furrowing in concentration. In the last twenty minutes I've been seated opposite this man
Ava "No" The word tumbles out of my mouth in a rapid fit. I shoot out from my chair, instinctively stepping away from him. A wave of disgust trickles up my spine before sinking its claws around my throat. "No?" Nikolai’s voice is deceptively soft, but his eyes flash with a dangerous intensity as he leans back against his desk. You would think he had never heard the word before with the way he was looking at me. "No" I repeat, firmer this time. "I will not help you kill my father. My God, what is wrong with you? I mean, I knew you were insane, but this? This is a whole new level, even for the likes of you." He leans back against his desk, watching me. He remains annoyingly calm, unfazed by my reaction. "Your father isn't the man you think he is.", My brows furrow as I try to read his expression"What's that supposed to mean?" He steps closer and runs a hand along his jaw, "Your father has blood on his hands, Solnishko, Russian blood to be exact." My shoulders stiffen,
Ava. The devil is real. And he is not a little red man with horns and a fork for a tongue. No, he can be beautiful. A fact I think most people forget. Nikolai was the devil in this scenario, and much like the actual devil, he was the ruler of my personal version of hell. He consumes my thoughts as l lay in bed, tangled in the sheets, our conversation from hours ago - if you could consider it that- replay in my mind. My thoughts drift back to his request in his office and I feel a knot tighten in my stomach at the memory. It was already dark outside, the cool glow of the moon slipped in through my window, casting a dim light across my bedroom floor. I had spent the last couple of hours locked up in here, trying to rid myself of the anger that had now turned to confusion that still burned brightly within me. Nikolai was accusing my father of murdering his brother who just so happened to be Kira's biological father. He wanted revenge for the blood my father spilled and he wa
Ava “Interesting” Kat hums to herself the next day when I tell her what happened with Kira. I shoot her a questioning look and arch my left brow, “What's so interesting about it?” We were currently lazing about by the pool which is something you wouldn't expect two adults to be doing on a Monday afternoon. Kat had insisted that a pool day was what we needed to solidify our bond in best friend-in-lawhood - her words, not mine- and I was too much of a people pleaser to refuse and just sort of went with it. “What is so interesting about it is that Kira doesn't just crawl into bed with anyone after having a nightmare. She only prefers it when Nikolai consoles her and the fact that she went to your room after one is just… odd.” I kick my feet against the water as I listen to her. “There was nothing odd about it.” I tell her, “Nikolai wasn't home, and I just so happened to be the only one awake. I'm sure if she knew that you were awake too she would've gone to you and Ivan’s roo
Nikolai “I need a cell new phone” Ava announces on a sunny afternoon, three days after our last encounter in my office. She looks down at me, determination filling her gaze as she makes her request. I hadn't expected Ava to willingly enter the same room as me after our last encounter. Yet there she was, standing across from me, the sunlight streaming in from the window casting the perfect glow on her silhouette from just the right angle. To say I was surprised to see her again in my office would be an understatement, to say the least, but then again what is life if not full of unexpected surprises and Ava standing before me, dressed in a little red top that hugged her figure, partnered with a pair of black jeans that accentuated her curves would be the most unexpected surprise of the century. We've barely seen each other since our last encounter, and I had convinced myself she was running away from me or, at the very least, avoiding me. I guess I was wrong on both accounts b
AVA Nikolai’s lips are excruciatingly soft and not at all like what I expected them to feel like. When I tugged him down to my lips earlier I fully intended for the kiss he had requested to be just that. A kiss. I never imagined that this would happen. This wasn’t just a kiss. It was earth-shattering, mind-numbing and nothing at all like the kiss we shared at the altar. Whereas that kiss was for show, this one was to show me who exactly I belonged to. And my God did it show me. The feeling of his lips against mine hits me with such intensity that my first response is to pull away. I bring my hands to his chest, fully intending to do just that, but when he nips at my bottom lip and then swipes his tongue against the sting to soothe the ache, lust fills my veins, flashing through me like hot bolts of lightning. Nikolai grasped my throat in his hand, holding me firmly against his body as he devoured my mouth with one stroke of his tongue at a time. Tingles spread across my skin
AvaThree days.That's how long it's been since my brother contacted me. Three days is also how long it's been since I lied to Nikolai by telling him that I got lost in the art store when I got home and found him looking like he had lost his mind without me. Two days is how long it takes for me to try my brother's phone again. It goes straight to voicemail.I still haven't fully been able to wrap my head around everything Aaron told me. Learning that we no longer shared the same father, and we apparently never did, to begin with, felt like a missile launched in the middle of the desert, unexpected and unpredictable. And as if that wasn't enough, his biological father was none other than Raicán O'Sullivan, the former head of the Irish mafia who wanted Aaron to take his place, and what's worse is that my brother was actually considering joining the Irish mafia as their new leader.It all felt so... jarring. Growing up with Aaron I'd never once considered that he was unhappy with his l
Ava"She was pregnant Ava"Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.The word repeats, over and over again in my brain like an endless chant.My mum...Our mum, was pregnant before she married our... no, my father.Swallowing, I straighten in the log, turning to face my brother. Of all the things I expected him to say, this did not make the top ten. Or hundred. Or thousand.I blink at him, counting down the seconds until he says, gotcha like he did when we were children, and he told me that he saw a ghost in our backyard, and I believed him. But the punchline never comes. “is this some kind of joke?" I ask. I'm surprised at how steady my voice comes out because, on the inside, my mind is racing. He has to be wrong; he just has to be because that would mean....I stare him straight in his eyes and the look I find there tells me that he won't say the words I'm so desperate for him to even if I were to kneel and beg him within an inch of my life.He wouldn't lie to me.Aaron remains comple
AvaThe Uber rolls to a stop in front of a barely standing building. The middle-aged driver glances at me through the rearview mirror, his brows pinching together. I ignore the look he gives me and shove a few bills into his hand before stepping out.The address Aaron sends me leads me to the industrial side of Chicago, where rusting metal fences and abandoned buildings line the quiet streets. Why the hell did he want to meet up in a place like this? The moment I shut the door, the Uber peels away, the roar of the engine fading into the distance, leaving me with nothing but a puff of engine smoke and dust.Coming to an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere simply because my brother preferred it over coffee in a cafe like normal people should certainly count as my top ten biggest mistakes.My gaze scans the area, and so far, it seems safe and normal.Slipping away from Benjamin had proven difficult. I'd asked him to stop at a random art store, claiming I needed to get some art
AvaMy phone buzzes in my pants as soon as I step out of my art history test on Wednesday. I reach for it, my pulse thrumming when I see the unknown number flashing across the screen. I hesitate for only a second before answering, my hand fisting the phone tightly."Hello?" "How are you, Ava?"That voice. I knew that voice. I grew up with that voice."Aaron?""The one and only"It's meant to come off as playful but there's a restrained edge to it. He sounds tired somehow and nothing like the boy I grew up with.Whereas that voice was lighter and always playful, this voice sounded older, wearier—like life had taken its toll on him in ways I would never understand.Why was he calling me? Now of all times. He abandoned me and now he's calling me like everything is just peachy between us when it's not. He knows it's not.I open my mouth to tell him he's an asshole for ignoring me for months and then trying to joke it off like nothing happene
Ava"I want to show you something," Nikolai tells me when I step into the house after a very long day of classes. I'm tired and my feet ache from shuffling between one lecture hall to the other in hopes of learning something relating to the path I chose to walk in life but am now violently cursing myself from doing.Kira throws me a toothy grin from over her shoulder as she's escorted back to her room by Lydia, her nanny, a grey-haired Russian woman with manners as stiff as a stick. She smiles at me politely as she ushers the little girl who'd tumbled into my legs the moment she saw me walk through the door, her tiny fists clutching the fabric of my skirt tightly like she couldn't let go.It took a while for her to notice me when I first came in, but when she did, she smiled at me so brightly from her father's lap that my heart stopped right there in my chest. Is this what it feels like to be missed?I lift a brow at Nikolai clearly confused at what he needs to show me. Today he's dr
Ava"You look different"Cara announces when we meet up later at one of the cafés around campus. The place is buzzing with students even though it's a Saturday and the campus is less crowded than usual.I glance up from the heart shaped design on my latte, shooting her a puzzled look."Different how?"She shrugs, "Just different"That's strange. I hadn't done anything peculiar to up my style this morning. My hair was in a loose ponytail and the dress I wore to the studio today was less than flattering on my figure. It had to be since I knew that it'd be coated in paint whenever I decided to leave the studio today. Which was thirty minutes ago when Cara called to ask if I was free for lattes.Cara tilts her head, deliberately trailing her gaze up and down my body. She looks at me the way a scientist would look at an equation they can't solve, stern and focused and I try not to let it unnerve me more than it already does.I lift the latte to my lips, taking a sip. The heavy creamy textu
Ava."Are you going to the studio?" Nikolai asks me once I sling my backpack over my shoulder. I'm now fully dressed and trying to ignore the lingering heat on my skin from what happened barely thirty minutes ago between us. After running me a bath, Nikolai asked to join me to which I declined with a firm no. When he realised there was no shaking my conviction, he reluctantly left the bathroom with a small pout, eventually giving me the space I required to clean up.After my bath, he hopped into the bathroom while I got dressed. Since it was a Saturday, I didn't have any classes today, but the deadline for my art project was drawing fast, and I was still a thousand steps away from starting it, not to talk of finishing it. I had to be having some type of artistic block. I mean, what else would you call me just staring at my canvas for three solid hours before deciding that the line I sketched wasn't straight enough and redoing the whole thing.I've been going to the studio every day
AvaI wake up to the feeling of my husband's lips dotting wet kisses across my cheeks, down the column of my neck to the base of my throat and then lower.I stir in the bed, my eyes still closed, when I feel his smile against my skin. "I know you're awake, Solnyshko" Nikolai's deep, husky morning voice rumbles against my collarbone, sending goosebumps erupting all over my skin. He sounds so good for someone who just woke up."Open those pretty eyes for me"He drops another kiss on my collarbone, following it with a quick nip. I wince, involuntarily arching towards him. My eyes snap open and I glance down at the head of dark curls brushing lightly against my chest.Nikolai lifts his head, his piercing green eyes colliding with mine. His lips stretch into a slow, lazy smirk as he looks at me, and I can feel the organ in my chest go into partial shock from how gorgeous my husband looks at the moment. A small teasing glint sparks in his eyes when he sees me watching him and my body ten
BearThe new prisoner his father brought was rather chatty, Bear decided after he heard the third knock on the wall on the second day of his exile."Bear?" came the little voice, soft and curious, as always. He'd come to realize that despite himself he actually found her voice rather tolerable. It was a drift from the normal silence that consumed him whenever his father would send him on one of these exiles.He'd grown so used to the silence his father's punishments often left him with that he never thought that he'd appreciate the sound of another person’s voice. Yet here he was, lying against the cold wall, listening to the sound of her timid knocks and hesitant words, almost as if she was afraid he wouldn't answer.And he almost didn't."Bear, I know you're in there. The least you can do is tell me you don't want to speak to me instead of avoiding me"She had him there."Mozhesh' li ty byt' gromche?" he muttered, his voice slightly hoarse.(Can you be any louder)"I knew you were s