Chapter 7 A Dress in Purple, A Band in Gold
The scrape of a chair against the floor jolts me awake. Not birdsong, not footsteps. Just that single sound echoing through the quiet room. My chest tightens immediately, and my muscles freeze. For a heartbeat, I don’t remember where I am, until the dread settles in like a stone in my stomach.
Nikolai.
I blink against the dim morning light sneaking through the curtains. He is sitting in the armchair near the window, unnervingly calm, his dark eyes fixed on me as if I am a puzzle he intends to solve. The sight of him makes my pulse spike. How long has he been there, just… watching?
"I'm only arriving," he says smoothly, as if he has read the frantic thoughts rushing through my mind. "Too bad I couldn’t watch you sleep for long."
A shiver runs down my spine. I press my hands to my chest and let out a shaky sigh.
"Ever heard of boundaries and privacy?" I ask, trying to sound braver than I feel. My throat burns, and my stomach churns.
He shrugs, like my words don’t matter. "That doesn’t exist between us," he says, calmly. "We’re married. I’m considering you moving into my room."
My head spins. Move into his room? My stomach clenches, bile rising. He hasn’t understood anything, my heart belongs to another. Adrian. Adrian is the only one I want. I feel dizzy just thinking of being trapped, day and night, with someone like him. But he will learn, one way or another, that I’m not his.
"Still, there should be some privacy," I say, forcing my voice to stay steady even though my hands are trembling. "What sort of man doesn’t understand that a girl needs her alone time?"
His lips curve in a faint smirk, eyes narrowing.
"An obsessed one," he says, without hesitation, like it is the most natural thing in the world. "For someone who was trembling yesterday, you act quite the opposite this morning."
He tilts his head slightly, studying me like he can see every thought I try to hide.
"Interesting," he murmurs, almost to himself. "You’re full of surprises."
I bite my lower lip, fighting the urge to flinch, to curl into myself. I won’t give him the satisfaction. Not now. Not ever.
"I still insist you leave," I say, keeping my voice steady as I meet his dark gaze. "I need to—"
But my words falter when my eyes catch a neatly folded parchment lying beside me. I glance at him, silently asking for an explanation.
"A little gift for you," Nikolai says, that wicked smile never fading. "Open it."
I hesitate, wondering what trick this could be. But curiosity wins, and I slowly unfold it. Inside lies a dress. Purple. My heart skips. Purple? How the hell does he know that’s my favorite color? My eyes dart to him, and of course, he’s smiling, wide and smug like he just solved a riddle. He must have gathered every bit of information about me before showing up on my wedding day to ruin my life. Psychopath.
Something else catches my eye. Beneath the dress lies a small golden wristband. It gleams softly under the light, unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
"Why these?" I ask, frowning.
He tilts his head slightly, studying me. "Don’t tell me you plan to stay in that wedding dress forever."
"And the wristband…" His lips curve again. "Consider it my first gift. Try it on."
I look at him suspiciously, unable to mask the prickle of distrust crawling under my skin. I reach for it anyway, the metal cool against my fingertips, and place it gently back on the bed.
“Thank you for the dress,” I say, forcing a small smile to mask the unease twisting inside me.
He arches a brow, tilting his head slightly. “And the band?”
“I don’t want that,” I say firmly, my gaze fixed on the thin golden circle.
His face doesn’t move, not even a twitch of irritation. Just that same smooth calm. But then his mouth curves into that devilish smirk, the one I’ve already learned to dread.
He’s up to something. He’s always up to something.
“I want it on you, dear wife,” he says, the words rolling off his tongue like silk. I flinch at the title. Dear wife. It sounds like mockery.
He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping lower, each word heavy. “You have a choice. Wear it,” he says, his eyes locking on mine, “and I’ll have the cameras in this room turned off.”
My breath catches. Cameras? My head jerks toward the corners of the ceiling, scanning for hidden lenses. I don’t see any, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
He’s the kind of man who hides things in plain sight.
“You put cameras in here?” I whisper, my voice small.
He shrugs, still smiling. “I like to keep an eye on what belongs to me.”
The air thickens and my throat tightens.
Belongs to him?
“Or,” he continues, his voice dropping an octave lower, “you don’t wear it, and every move of yours will be watched by me. Even as you have your… bath."
I stare at him, unable to speak.
He stands there, unbothered, hands tucked casually into his pockets, as if he’s discussing something trivial and not violating every boundary I have left.
I look around the room, my pulse quickening. My eyes trace every corner, every shadow, every tiny detail... even the spaces between the heavy curtains. But I can’t spot a single visible camera. Nothing.
Which only means one thing. They’re hidden.
My stomach churns. If Nikolai really has cameras here, then they must be impossibly small, tucked away where I’d never think to look. Maybe inside the light fixtures. Maybe in the mirror. Maybe... God, I don’t even want to think about it.
The thought of him sitting somewhere, watching me undress or bathe, sends a rush of anger and humiliation through my chest. Watching me bathe? My decency? No way.
I’d rather wear his sick golden band than give him that kind of power.
But still, how can I trust a man like Nikolai?
I turn to face him again, my throat tight. “How sure am I that you’ll actually block the cameras afterward?”
His smile deepens, as though my question amuses him. He takes a step closer, the movement predatory.
“You’re not,” he says finally, his tone smooth. “That’s the fun part.”
The air seems to leave my lungs.
“Then why should I wear it?” I snap, though my voice shakes at the edges. “Why should I believe anything you say?”
He studies me quietly, his expression calm. Then his eyes drift down to the band lying on the bed, a glint of gold in the pale morning light.
“Because,” he murmurs, “whether you believe me or not, you’ll still wear it. Because you hate being watched more than you hate me.”
He’s right. Damn him, he’s right.
I hate that he knows me already. Knows how to corner me with calm words and impossible choices. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.
I pick up the band and slip it around my wrist. The metal feels strangely cold, almost alive, like it’s memorizing the shape of my skin and a satisfied smile crosses Nikolai’s face.
In that moment, all I can think about is Adrian. His voice, his warmth, his promise that he’d come for me. What was he doing now? I just have to trust he’s planning something. I just have to survive long enough.
“Perfect,” Nikolai murmurs, eyes glinting as they settle on my wrist. “It suits you. I’ll block the cameras as I’m a man of my word.”
I nod stiffly, even though every part of me wants to rip the damn thing off. The band feels heavier by the second, like it’s already binding me to him in ways I can’t see. But I don’t touch it, not yet. Not when he’s still watching.
“I’ll leave you to have your bath and freshen up,” he continues, his voice smooth like a man who’s used to sounding gentle when he’s anything but. “Breakfast will be brought to you soon. It breaks my heart that we can’t eat together.”
“Your heart must be fragile then,” I say quietly, lifting my chin a little. “It breaks too easily.”
His eyes flick toward me, surprised for a moment, then amused. “You’re getting comfortable, little bride.”
“I’m just talking,” I reply evenly. “Don't you want honesty between us?”
He smirks, taking a slow step closer. “Careful, Liora. There’s honesty… and there’s foolishness. And I’d hate to confuse the two.”
He turns toward the door, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I’ll be gone most of the day,” he says over his shoulder, voice once again calm. “So be a good wife and wait for your husband.”
I roll my eyes. As if. But anything to keep him away. “I’ll try my best.”
He glances back at me, the corner of his mouth curling upward. “You’ll learn, Liora. In time, you’ll stop trying.”
The door clicks shut behind him and I let out a heavy sigh.
Patience. That’s all I need. Just a little more time until Adrian gets me out.
I lift my wrist closer, whispering under my breath, “Adrian, please… whatever you’re planning, make it soon.”
I look around the room suddenly. He said the cameras would be off.
So why do I feel like I’m still being watched?