CHAPTER 4: FIRST DAY IN HELL
2405 Words
I woke to someone shaking my shoulder roughly.
"Up. Now."
Nikolai stood over me, already dressed in a sharp black suit. His face was back to its usual cold mask, like last night's vulnerability never happened.
"What time is it?" I mumbled, disoriented. Sunlight barely crept through the windows.
"Five AM. You have ten minutes to get dressed and meet me in the gym." He turned to leave, then paused. "Your brother's still asleep. Don't wake him."
"Wait—"
But he was already gone.
I dragged myself out of bed, checking on Danny. He was curled up under the blankets, finally peaceful. Mrs. Kowalski had agreed to come stay with him during the day. At least he'd be safe here.
Unlike me.
---
The gym felt like a prison. Nikolai stood by the weights, checking his watch with obvious impatience.
"You're late."
"It's 5:09."
"Late is late." He tossed me a water bottle. "We're doing this every morning. Six days a week. No exceptions."
"Doing what exactly?"
"Making sure you don't get yourself killed again." His eyes were ice. "Last night was pathetic. You walked into an obvious trap like an amateur. If I hadn't already planned for your stupidity, you'd be dead."
The words stung. "I was trying to save my brother."
"You were being emotional and reckless. In my world, that gets you a bullet." He moved closer, circling me like a predator. "You want to survive the year? You learn to fight. You learn to think. You learn to obey orders without question."
"I'm not a soldier."
"No. You're a debtor playing dress-up as my girlfriend." The words were deliberately cruel. "But if you're going to be seen with me, you need to be useful. Not a liability."
There it was. The reminder that last night changed nothing. I was still just a debt to him.
"Fine." I squared my shoulders. "Teach me."
His smile was sharp. "Let's see what you're made of."
---
The next hour was hell.
Nikolai pushed me through exercises I didn't know existed. Burpees, planks, lunges until my legs screamed. When I collapsed, he didn't let me rest.
"Up. Again."
"I can't—"
"Then you die." He hauled me to my feet. "Again."
By the time he finally called a break, I was drenched in sweat and shaking. He looked barely winded.
"Pathetic," he muttered, tossing me a towel. "But we'll fix that."
"Why are you doing this?" I gasped. "You already have guards. Why do I need to—"
"Because guards can be bought. Killed. Distracted." He took a long drink of water. "The only person you can truly rely on in this world is yourself. So you better learn fast."
I wanted to argue, but he was already walking away.
"Shower. Breakfast in thirty. Then we have a meeting."
"What kind of meeting?"
He glanced back, and something dark flickered in his eyes. "The kind where you smile and look pretty and remember you're just my fake girlfriend. Nothing more."
The words landed like a slap.
He left me alone in the gym, my muscles aching and my pride bruised.
---
**THE MEETING**
The car ride downtown was silent. Nikolai worked on his laptop while I stared out the window, trying not to think about how sore I was.
We pulled up to a sleek office building that screamed money and power. Inside, everything was marble and glass and people in expensive suits who looked at Nikolai with a mix of fear and respect.
"Remember," he said quietly as we entered the elevator. "You're devoted. Obsessed. You can't keep your hands off me."
"I think I can manage to look interested."
"Interested isn't enough." The elevator doors closed, leaving us alone. "These are businessmen. Legitimate on the surface, but they all have dirty secrets. They're meeting with me because they need something only the Bratva can provide. And they need to believe I'm stable. In control. Not distracted by a girl I'm keeping as debt payment."
"So I'm here to make you look good."
"You're here to make them believe I've gone soft for you." He stepped closer, backing me against the elevator wall. "Which means you need to sell it."
His hand cupped my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone. It should've felt threatening, but instead, my traitorous body reacted with heat.
"Like this," he murmured. "You lean into my touch. Your breathing changes. You look at me like I'm everything."
"This is insane."
"This is survival." His other hand found my waist, pulling me flush against him. "Now practice. Look at me like you want me."
I forced myself to meet his eyes. To soften my expression. To pretend this cold, cruel man was someone I could actually want.
Except it didn't feel like pretending. Not with his body pressed against mine and his scent surrounding me.
The elevator dinged.
Nikolai stepped back immediately, his mask sliding into place. "Better. But work on the smile. You looked terrified."
"I was terrified."
"Then you're learning." He took my hand, lacing our fingers together with practiced ease. "Showtime."
---
The conference room held five men in suits. They stood when we entered, their eyes immediately going to me with thinly veiled interest.
"Gentlemen." Nikolai's voice was smooth, charming even. Nothing like the harsh taskmaster from this morning. "Thank you for coming."
"Volkov." The oldest man nodded. "We weren't expecting company."
"My apologies. Maya insisted on joining me today." He pulled out a chair for me with exaggerated chivalry. "She doesn't like being apart."
I forced a smile, playing my role. "Can you blame me?"
The men chuckled, some of the tension easing. Nikolai's hand found the back of my neck, possessive and casual.
The meeting began. Talk of shipping routes, distribution channels, percentages. I didn't understand half of it, but I played my part. Laughing at appropriate moments. Touching Nikolai's arm. Looking at him with manufactured adoration.
He was a perfect actor too. His hand would drift to my thigh under the table. He'd lean close to whisper things that sounded intimate but were actually instructions. "Smile more." "Stop fidgeting." "Look bored and they'll get suspicious."
After an hour, the deal was struck. Handshakes all around.
As we left, one of the men—younger, arrogant—caught my wrist. "Lucky man, Volkov. She's exquisite."
Nikolai's response was immediate. He gripped the man's wrist, twisting until bones creaked. "Touch her again, and I'll break every finger."
The man paled. "I meant no disrespect—"
"Then learn some." Nikolai released him with a shove. "Come, Maya."
He pulled me out of the building, his grip on my hand almost painful.
In the car, the mask shattered. "What part of 'don't draw attention' confused you?"
"I didn't do anything!"
"You smiled at him. Laughed at his joke. Made him think he had a chance."
"I was being polite!"
"Polite gets you unwanted attention." He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "You're mine, remember? Even fake girlfriends don't flirt with other men."
"I wasn't flirting!"
"You don't know what you were doing." He turned to face me fully. "That's the problem. You're too naive. Too trusting. You see potential friends where I see threats."
"Maybe because not everyone is a threat!"
"In my world? Everyone is." His voice dropped dangerously low. "The sooner you accept that, the longer you'll survive."
We drove in angry silence. I hated how he was right. Hated how I'd misread the situation.
Hated how his jealousy almost felt real.
---
**BACK AT THE PENTHOUSE**
Danny was awake, eating breakfast with Mrs. Kowalski. He brightened when he saw me.
"Maya! Where'd you go?"
"Business meeting with Nikolai."
"Boring adult stuff?" He grinned.
"The worst." I ruffled his hair. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. Mrs. K made pancakes." He lowered his voice. "Is he always this scary?"
I glanced at Nikolai, who was already on his phone, back in ice-king mode. "Yeah. Pretty much."
"But he saved me. So I guess he's not all bad."
If only it were that simple.
Nikolai finished his call, his expression dark. "Maya. My office. Now."
Danny's eyes widened. "Are you in trouble?"
"Probably." I squeezed his shoulder. "Finish your breakfast."
---
Nikolai's office was all dark wood and leather. He poured himself vodka—at 10 AM—and downed it before speaking.
"We have a problem."
"What now?"
"The Italians weren't working alone. Someone in my organization fed them information. Told them about you. About Danny." His knuckles went white around the glass. "Someone betrayed me."
Ice flooded my veins. "Who?"
"That's what I need to find out." He set down the glass. "Which means I can't trust anyone right now. Not even my own men."
"What does that mean for me?"
"It means you don't leave my sight. Ever." He moved around the desk, leaning against it. "You sleep in your room, but my bedroom is next door. You eat when I eat. You go where I go. You become my shadow until I find the rat."
"That's insane. I need privacy—"
"You need to stay alive." His eyes bore into mine. "Someone in my inner circle wants to hurt me. And the easiest way to do that is through you."
"Why? I'm just a fake girlfriend. You said it yourself—I'm nothing to you."
Something flashed across his face. Anger, maybe. Or something darker. "That's what we tell them. What they believe is their problem."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means perception is reality in this world." He stood, moving into my space with that predatory grace. "They see me claim you. Protect you. React when men touch you. They don't care if it's real or fake. They only care that I've shown weakness."
"Caring about someone isn't weakness."
"In the Bratva? It's a death sentence." His hand found my jaw, tilting my face up. "My enemies will use you against me. They'll hurt you to hurt me. So until I eliminate the threat, you stay close. Understood?"
His touch was gentle, but his eyes were steel. This wasn't a request.
"Understood," I whispered.
"Good." He released me, stepping back. "We have a charity gala tonight. You'll need a dress. I've arranged for a stylist at three."
"A gala? Someone's trying to kill us and you want to go to a party?"
"I want to draw out the traitor." His smile was cold. "And there's no better place than a room full of vipers pretending to be civilized."
---
**THE STYLIST**
The woman who arrived at three was terrifyingly chic. She took one look at me and sighed like I was a project.
"We have work to do."
Two hours later, I barely recognized myself. The dress was black, elegant, with a slit that went dangerously high. My hair was swept up. Makeup dramatic but classy.
I looked like I belonged in Nikolai's world.
The thought terrified me.
Nikolai appeared in the doorway, stopping short. His eyes raked over me slowly, and for once, his mask slipped.
"You look..." He cleared his throat. "Acceptable."
"Just acceptable?"
"Don't fish for compliments." But his eyes said something different. "The car leaves in twenty."
He disappeared before I could respond.
Mrs. Kowalski appeared, grinning. "That man is smitten."
"He's cold and calculating."
"And he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room." She winked. "Trust an old woman. I know that look."
I wanted to argue, but we both heard it. The sound of Nikolai in the hallway, swearing in Russian.
Maybe Mrs. Kowalski was right.
Or maybe I was just desperate to believe the monster had a heart.
---
**THE GALA**
The venue was stunning. Chandeliers, marble floors, people in designer everything. Classical music played while waiters circulated with champagne.
Nikolai's hand stayed on my lower back the entire time. Possessive. Claiming.
"Remember," he murmured. "You're madly in love with me. Smile. Touch me. Make it believable."
"Who exactly are we trying to convince?"
"Everyone." His eyes scanned the crowd. "And no one. Just play your part."
We mingled. I met countless people whose names I immediately forgot. Smiled until my face hurt. Laughed at jokes that weren't funny.
And through it all, Nikolai's attention never left me. His hand. His eyes. His body angling toward mine like I was the center of his universe.
It was exhausting. And confusing. Because sometimes, his touch felt too real.
"Nikolai Volkov." A woman's voice, smooth as silk. "I heard you'd finally found someone special."
We turned. The woman was stunning—tall, blonde, curves in all the right places. She looked at Nikolai like he was hers.
"Irina." Nikolai's voice was neutral. "I wasn't aware you'd be here."
"I go where the money is." Her eyes slid to me, assessing. "And who is this?"
"Maya. My girlfriend."
"How... unexpected." Irina's smile didn't reach her eyes. "You always said relationships were a weakness."
"I changed my mind."
"Did you?" She moved closer, invading his space. "Or is this another one of your games?"
The tension was thick enough to cut. I felt like I was watching something private. Something that proved what I already knew.
I meant nothing to him. I was just another move in his chess game.
Irina's hand touched Nikolai's chest. "We should catch up. Privately."
"No." His rejection was flat. "I'm exactly where I want to be."
Her eyes narrowed. "Since when do you care about anyone?"
"Since now." His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close. "Excuse us."
He guided me away, but I felt Irina's glare burning into my back.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"No one important."
"She touched you like she owned you."
"She used to." His jaw clenched. "Past tense. Focus on the present."
But I couldn't. Because Irina looked at him the way I was supposed to pretend to. Like he was everything.
And he'd walked away from her without a second glance.
For me. His fake girlfriend. His debtor.
Nothing made sense anymore.
---
We were leaving when it happened.
Gunshots.
Screaming.
Glass shattering.
Nikolai shoved me behind a pillar, his gun appearing from nowhere. "Stay down!"
People ran in every direction. More shots. Bodies dropping.
"Nikolai!" I screamed as he stepped into the open, returning fire with deadly precision.
This wasn't random. Someone had come for him.
And I was about to watch him die.
- Writer
