Chapter 16 Marlena
"We need to talk about tonight," Nikolai repeated, keeping his voice carefully controlled.
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the penthouse. "What's there to talk about? The contract is clear."
"Fuck the contract." He set his glass down hard enough that I flinched. "I'm not going to –" He stopped, running a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect styling. "I won't touch you unless you want me to."
The words hung in the air between us.
I stared at him, certain I'd misheard. "What?"
"You heard me." He poured himself another drink, not looking at me. "The contract requires consummation. It doesn't specify how or when or under what circumstances."
My mind struggled to process his words. "I don't understand."
"Which part?" He finally met my eyes. "I won't force you, Marlena. Not tonight. Not ever."
"But the contract –"
"Can be fulfilled on your terms. When you're ready. If you're ever ready." His jaw tightened.
"This can be as clinical or as..." He paused, searching for words. "...meaningful as you want it to be. Your choice."
Choice. The word felt foreign on his lips.
"Why?" Suspicion crept through my confusion. "Why would you give me a choice?"
"Because I'm a bastard, not a rapist." His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "There's a difference."
I laughed, but it came out broken. "Is there? You blackmailed me into this marriage. You're using me as bait for my own father. You've taken everything from me – my freedom, my life, my name. But you draw the line at forcing me into bed?"
"Yes." His answer was simple.
"I don't believe you." I moved to the windows, staring out at Manhattan glittering below. "This is another game. Another way to control me."
"Think what you want." I heard him move behind me, felt the heat of him even though he didn't touch. "But I meant what I said. Tonight, tomorrow, next week – whenever or never. Your call."
My reflection in the glass looked like a stranger with the white dress, perfect makeup, Mrs. Volkov written all over me.
But Nikolai's reflection stood close enough to touch, and for once, his mask had slipped. He looked tired.
"Why?" I asked again, softer this time. "The truth, Nikolai. Why give me this when you've taken everything else?"
Silence stretched between us, then finally he spoke up.
"Because I saw your face in the car tonight." His voice was rough. "The way you looked when you answered Luka's call. The way you lied to him, told him you were happy when you were breaking apart."
He paused, and I heard him take a breath.
"I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of. Hurt people. Destroyed lives. But I won't—" His voice hardened. "I won't take this from you. Not like that."
I turned to face him. We were close enough that I could see the flecks of silver in his grey eyes, could count his heartbeats from the pulse in his throat.
"You're still a bastard," I whispered.
"I know."
"I still hate you."
"I know that too."
But even as I said it, I wasn't sure it was true anymore.
Hating him had been easier when he was just cold and nothing more than the monster who'd bought me.
This glimpse of something underneath made everything more complicated.
Nikolai stepped back, breaking the moment. "I'll sleep in my room. You take yours. We can figure out the rest later."
He moved toward the stairs, and I should have let him go.
Should have been grateful for the reprieve.
Instead, I heard myself say, "Wait."
He stopped, without turning to me.
My heart hammered against my ribs. The champagne had made everything fuzzy at the edges, or maybe it was just exhaustion, or maybe I was finally losing my mind completely.
"What if I don't want you to go?"
He turned slowly, his expression unreadable. "Marlena—"
"You said it was my choice." I moved closer, my wedding dress rustling. "When. How. If."
"You don't know what you're saying." Nikolai said.
"Don't I?" I stopped in front of him, close enough to touch but not touching. "You're right. I hate this. Hate the contract, the lies, the cage you've put me in. I hate that I'm standing here in this dress pretending to be someone I'm not."
His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
"But tonight –" My voice cracked. "Tonight I don't want to think about any of it. I don't want to remember why I'm here or what you've done or what tomorrow brings."
"Marlena, you're not thinking clearly –"
"Then make it mean something." The words tumbled out desperately. "Just for tonight, make me forget this is fake. Make me forget that you blackmailed me, that I'm trapped, that none of this is real."
I looked up at him, and I didn't try to hide the tears anymore.
"Please, Nikolai. Just for tonight, let me pretend."
He stared at me like I'd physically struck him. "You're asking me to –"
"I'm asking you to make me forget." My hands found his chest, feeling his heart race beneath the expensive fabric. "You said it was my choice. This is my choice."
"You'll regret it tomorrow."
"Probably." I stepped closer, eliminating the space between us. "But tonight, I don't care."
His hands came up, hovering near my waist but not quite touching. "This is the champagne talking. The stress. You don't actually want this,"
"Stop telling me what I want." I grabbed his tie, pulling him down until our faces were inches apart. "Stop deciding everything for me. You gave me a choice. I'm making it."
"Marlena –" My name was a warning, a plea, a question all at once.
"Make me forget," I whispered against his lips. "Just for tonight. Make this real."
For a moment, he didn't move or breathe, then something in him broke.
His mouth crashed onto mine with desperate intensity. Not like at the altar – this was something more raw. Messier.
Real.
His hands finally touched me, one sliding into my hair, the other pulling me flush against him. I gasped, and he deepened the kiss, swallowing the sound.
Everything I'd been holding back – the fear, the anger, the loneliness – poured into that kiss.
I kissed him like I was drowning and he was air.
He kissed me like he was trying to memorize the taste of me.
When we finally broke apart, both
breathing hard, his forehead rested against mine.
"You're going to hate me even more tomorrow," he said roughly.
"I know."