God Of Crimson : A Mafia Deal Sealed in Sin

The Devil's Den

Nikita Volkov
The moment Nikita stepped into Nikolai's penthouse, she felt like she had just entered the lion's den. The place was everything she expected—cold, sleek, and dripping with wealth. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the sprawling cityscape below, the modern black-and-white decor screamed control and dominance, just like the man who owned it.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered under her breath as she dropped her bags at the door, eyeing the expansive living room that looked more like a showroom than a home.

From behind her, a voice dripped with sarcasm. "Not impressed, Volkov?"

Nikita stiffened, turning slowly to find Nikolai leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and eyes glinting with that infuriating smirk of his. He was wearing his signature suit, the tattoos peeking from beneath his cuff only adding to his dangerous charm. Damn him.

She rolled her eyes, trying to keep her composure. "It's a little too... predictable. All style, no substance."

Nikolai raised a brow, his smirk deepening. "I could say the same about you."

She shot him a glare, brushing past him as she headed toward the stairs, pretending to be unfazed. "I'll be upstairs. Alone."

"Don't get too comfortable," he called after her, his voice laced with amusement. "You're not a guest here. This is your new home now."

"Home," she scoffed under her breath as she ascended the staircase. "Yeah, right."

Nikita threw her things on the bed and took a deep breath. She hated every second of this, every part of being in his space. And yet, despite her loathing for this whole arrangement, she couldn't deny the electric tension that buzzed between them.

And that was the problem.

Nikolai wasn't just arrogant—he was magnetic. He walked into a room and owned it, and worse, she could feel herself being drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. The heat between them was dangerous, and it terrified her just how much she was affected by it.

She changed into a pair of loose shorts and a tank top, determined to get comfortable and avoid him for the rest of the evening. But as soon as she stepped into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, there he was—standing shirtless, a low-slung pair of sweatpants riding dangerously low on his hips, revealing even more of his intricate tattoos.

Of course, he had to be shirtless. It was like the universe was conspiring against her.

Nikita nearly dropped her glass, but she caught herself and straightened, refusing to let him see her falter. "Do you ever wear clothes like a normal person?"

Nikolai turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over her in that slow, deliberate way that made her feel like she was under a spotlight. "Depends on the company."

Her heart skipped a beat, but she masked it with a scoff. "I'm not interested."

Nikolai stepped closer, his eyes darkening with that dangerous glint she had grown all too familiar with. "You say that, but I can see right through you, Nikita."

She held her ground, refusing to let him intimidate her. "You think you know me, Russo?"

He closed the distance between them, standing so close now that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. "I don't think—I know."

Nikita swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She hated the way his presence made her heart race, hated how much she was drawn to him despite herself. "You're delusional."

Nikolai smirked, leaning down until his mouth was inches from her ear. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."

The low timbre of his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she clenched her fists to keep her composure. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was affecting her.

She stepped back, glaring at him. "Stay out of my way, Russo."

Nikolai's eyes glittered with amusement, his smile slow and deliberate. "No promises."

Nikolai Russo
Watching her fight the pull between them was more entertaining than he thought. Nikita was all fire and resistance, and he loved every second of it. She thought she could keep him at arm's length, but she had no idea just how good he was at this game.

As she retreated upstairs, clearly flustered by their brief encounter, Nikolai allowed himself a small smile. This marriage might have been about power, but the way things were going, it was about to get a lot more interesting.

He wasn't in a hurry to claim her—not yet. No, he wanted to savor this. The back-and-forth, the push and pull of their attraction—it was intoxicating. She was intoxicating.

And as much as she hated him right now, Nikolai knew it was only a matter of time before she gave in to the inevitable.

But for now, he'd let her think she had control. After all, that's what made it fun.

Later that night, Nikita was in her room, sprawled out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying desperately to clear her mind. But it was impossible. All she could think about was him. The way he moved, the way his voice seemed to wrap around her like a vice.

It was maddening.

She heard footsteps outside her door and sat up quickly, her heart racing. The door creaked open just enough for Nikolai to lean against the frame, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

Nikita narrowed her eyes, clutching the blanket tightly in her fists. "What do you want?"

He shrugged, stepping into the room casually as if he owned the place—which, technically, he did. "Just checking in on my wife-to-be."

"I'm not your wife yet."

He smiled, a slow, predatory smile that sent a shiver down her spine. "Soon enough."

Before she could respond, Nikolai crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed, far too close for comfort. Her breath hitched as she instinctively backed up, but he didn't move. His presence was overwhelming, and she hated how much she wanted him to stay.

"I've been thinking," he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "About what this marriage could be."

"Transactional," she shot back quickly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Nothing more."

His gaze darkened, and for a moment, Nikita felt like she had walked into a trap. "Is that what you really want?"

She swallowed hard, the heat between them becoming unbearable. "Yes."

Nikolai leaned in closer, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "Liar."

The word sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she clenched her fists to keep from losing control. This was exactly what he wanted—to break her down, to make her admit that she felt the same pull, the same fire that burned between them.

But she wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

Nikita turned her head, her lips dangerously close to his, her breath mingling with his. "I'm not a toy for you to play with, Nikolai."

He smirked, his lips so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. "Oh, but you are, Nikita. You just don't know it yet."

And with that, he stood up and walked out, leaving her breathless, frustrated, and more confused than ever.

The game had only just begun.

Nikita Volkov
Nikita lay back on the bed, her heart pounding in her chest. She hated how easily he got under her skin, how he seemed to know exactly what buttons to push.

But more than that, she hated how much she wanted him.

This was a dangerous game, and if she wasn't careful, she was going to lose. And in this world, losing meant more than just a bruised ego.

It meant falling for the one man she swore she would never let in.

And that? That was terrifying.