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I stand as far from the door as the space allows me to. Though I thought I was ready, my stomach clenches in anticipation.
Olga’s crass features are familiar to me now. She’s the one who brought me previous meals, so I shouldn’t be surprised she’s here again. A shiver runs up my spine when she enters and pushes the trolley over to the place it belongs.
After her, Nikolai walks in, favoring his right leg. He carries a table in his arms, and only now do I see two chairs folded on the trolley’s bottom shelf.
The smell of the food—the soup, the potatoes, and the steak—makes my belly rumble. The juicy meal will surely be the highlight of my day.
Once the table and chairs are unfolded and perfectly positioned between the bed and the wall, Olga moves the trolley closer. Both plates are steaming, and as good as the smells are, I keep my gaze lowered. I won’t give Nikolai the satisfaction of seeing how much I want his gifts.
“Thank you, Olga,” he says to the older woman.
Once she closes the door behind her, Nikolai gestures to the chairs, inviting me to sit down. Without a word, I take a seat opposite him, eyeing the meat. It’s delicious and mouthwatering.
“How was your day, serdtse?”
My gaze snaps to his handsome face. I hate how attractive he is. Especially with the stubble and small scar on the side of his head near the eye. There’s nothing wrong with him apart from the coldness of his eyes.
He’s clearly the bad boy I love to hate.
“Boring,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“Did you start any of the books I sent you?” he asks with a chuckle.
“No,” I lie.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know if I can trust your literary choices.”
Nikolai laughs. He’s clearly amused, and I have no clue why. “I’ll make sure to switch the books, then. Do you prefer a reverse harem novel? Or are you a Dostoyevsky kind of girl?”
“I’m not reading your books,” I say, once again stubborn.
He raises his eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. It’s obvious he doesn’t believe me. “You just haven’t gotten bored enough yet.”
We dive into the meal, ignoring each other. I let myself breathe, and for a couple of minutes, I pretend that I’m free.
“Tell me about yourself,” he breaks the silence, clearly done with it.
His intense gray gaze is back on me, and the butterflies in my stomach threaten to eat me from the inside out. Why is my body reacting this way when I’m supposed to despise him? Why does he look this attractive, even though I’m furious with him?
There’s a beauty in the power he holds over me. His masculine charm, coupled with the size of his body, is in complete contrast to mine. Knowing how dominant he is in everything he does, I have no doubt that the moment we come together, Nikolai will claim not only my body, but also my soul. And there’s a morbid curiosity in wanting to find out how strong he really is.
No!
Feminism is a real thing; I chastise myself and chase away all those unwanted images of him towering over me.
Nikolai laughs. He likes what he’s seeing, me looking all flustered and helpless. I bet he gets a kick out of it.
I’m done. I’ll show him what kind of wife he’ll get.
Without a warning, I grab my plate and throw it at him. He seems to expect it and dodges it with ease, laughing. But I’m not done yet. I grab my fork and jump at him. To his credit, Nikolai manages to block my strike with his forearm.
“Katarina!” he warns. “If you hurt me, we’ll both suffer. When will you finally understand that?”
“I don’t give a fuck what happens to you,” I cry out. I jam my knee in his chest and hear him grunt in pain. It gives me enough time to stab him again in the arm with the fork. It goes in quite deep, but it doesn’t stop me. I pull it out and try to go for the same spot again and only now see the blood seeping out.
He hisses and takes me by surprise, pushing at me with his strength. My back meets the floor with a thud, the air escaping my lungs in a flash. He lands on top of me, putting pressure on my torso and making me squirm. When I try to scratch his face, he grabs both of my wrists and pins them over my head.
