CHAPTER 25: – YOU ARE MINE –

Viviana blinked at the small cozy looking apartment and then at Nikolas, who stood next to her.

Nikolas shrugged. "I managed to get us an apartment. It’s really not bad at all. And yes, I already have everything of ours transferred over here. Took me hours, though."

He grabbed her hand and walked her inside.

The living room was small but really nice and colorful. So cozy and lively. There was just one bedroom, which made her frown. It meant she had to share a bed with him.

Not that... she was still opposed to it.

The kitchen was just on the other side of the living room, separated by a half-sized railing. She glanced at the big, comfortable, pink sofa facing the TV.

"I know it’s nothing like the luxury apartments you live—"

"I don’t mind, Nikolas," she interrupted tonelessly. "I think it’s quite cozy and cute."

She huffed around with brows lifted. "Why do I get the idea you’ve assumed I may not be able to handle it here merely because I’m a rich man’s daughter?"

"Well—"

She scoffed before he could respond, walking away from him.

"Viviana."

"Swallow whatever it is you have to say down your throat, Nikolas. I’m not interested."

Nikolas stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned a shoulder against the door frame. "So cold. That hurts my heart, wife."

Viviana spun on her heel. She stared at him and puffed out a laugh that didn’t show on her face. "Is it your talent?"

"Talent?"

"Teasing women," she added. "You have the looks, and with those charming words slipping out of your mouth, I fear I can only imagine."

"So that’s what you think of me?" He smiled proudly. "I have to say I wouldn’t call it that—"

Her stomach growled all of a sudden, the rest of his words dropping back down his throat. They crossed gazes with each other, and a shit-eating grin emerged on his face.

"Hungry? Would you like me to cook for you?"

"Why would I?"

"I have amazing chef skills, one I picked up at a time in my life," he said, unbuttoning the first button of his dress shirt. Viviana watched him, following the movement of his fingers with her eyes, even as he pulled his tie loose, tossing it on the couch.

She swallowed subconsciously and shifted her gaze away, refusing, "I’ll make my own food."

"Really?" His tone was teasing.

"What?" she questioned. "Do you also think I can’t make my own food?"

Nikolas cocked his head, his stare swallowing her entire slender frame. "Can you?"

She tossed her bag onto the sofa, stepped up to him to erase the distance between them, and snatched him by the collar of his shirt. She yanked him down roughly.

And in response, he dilated those bright green pupils.

"Listen here, Nikolas Bastiani," she enunciated. "Just because I was born into wealth doesn’t mean I’m incapable of doing anything by myself, okay?"

Nikolas blinked. "That’s not what I meant—"

"And you know what? I don’t care what you think, and I do not need your help!" She roughly let go of him and stormed her way into the kitchen.

"Hmmm." Nikolas pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, exposing his veiny muscular arm. He watched her with interest, entertained. "Ah... she’s definitely my type."

Noticing his unwavering stare, she shot him a withering glare. "What now?"

"Nothing, your highness." He shrugged. "I just want to watch you."

"Well, I don’t want you to. Do me a favor and step out."

"Why?" Nikolas laughed. "Scared you’d messed up?"

"Are you trying to taunt me?"

"Am I?"

Her jaw ticked.

He smiled at her.

"Keep smiling. Glee all you want," she muttered with a bite and turned away from him.

Viviana slipped off her jacket and set it aside, leaving herself in nothing but a crisp white shirt. She rolled up the sleeves, unfastened the top three buttons, and tied an apron around her waist.

All the while, Nikolas watched her quietly while leaning against the wall with pocketed hands. His eyes trailed over to her neck. He felt his chest pound all too suddenly, his heart skipping a beat.

Breathing out, he ignored the itch on his fangs, much more concerned that the said fangs were for some odd reasons trying to stretch out against his will.

"You’ve got to be kidding me..." he murmured to himself, stroking his chin while still rooted on his spot, unwilling to move, despite the discomfort.

Five minutes ticked by. Ten followed suit, and now, Nikolas was starting to frown with eyes wide as saucers.

’What in the world is she doing?’

"Hey!"

He was behind her in seconds and snatched her by the back of her shirt to yank her aside. The sudden burst of fire from the cooking gas blew into his frame, luckily burning just his arm before he turned it off.

He cast his gaze to his arm. There were no burn marks, and it didn’t hurt. But that was only because fire was incapable of harming him.

Viviana’s heavy breathing grabbed his attention, and he swung around to stare her down where she was on the floor on her butt. She was gazing at the cooker.

"You stubborn woman. You couldn’t just let me help you, could you?"

His words shocked her into silence. She’d never really seen what he looked like pissed. And why was he even mad?

’Oh, wait, no, he got hurt.’

"Crap!" She swung to her feet and frantically searched him over, pulling back with confusion plastered all over her face. He was in fact not hurt in any way.

But how come?

She was certain that fire had burst on him.

"Are you okay?" She looked at him. "I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t—"

"What the f*ck were you thinking?"

"Nikolas."

"You could have gotten really hurt, do you get that?"

"Nikolas, I was only trying to figure out how it worked. I didn’t—

"So you didn’t know how it worked. Why didn’t you ask me?" He took a step toward her. "So what if you don’t have many survival skills? Who cares? I don’t. What if I hadn’t gotten to you in time? You could have—"

"Nikolas!" She pressed her back against the wall he’d cornered her to. "Why do you care? Even if I’d gotten hurt, it doesn’t have much to do with you. Why are you acting like..."

The rest of her words died on her tongue at the look on his face. He looked... far more serious than she’d ever seen him do. The stupid playful glint he always held in his eyes was gone. If anything, those pairs of eyes had gone completely dark.

And in two steps, he was going to be flush against her, and she’d have to meet his body and the cold emerald of his eyes.

"Nikolas," she spoke breathlessly.

Nikolas ate the entire distance between them in one single stride. "Why do I care? Well, Viviana, it’s because I have no intention of allowing you to be careless with your life in any way. Not right now."

He pressed both his palms on either side of her head against the wall. His body was now hovering over hers, and he was touching her without really touching her. And whatever reason it was, she didn’t want him to step away.

The man leaned forward, just enough to close his lips in on her ear, saying, "Listen, I haven’t figured out what it is you are to me, not that you would understand why or where I’m coming from. But I haven’t figured a damn thing out: what you mean to me and why you make me feel like this. Why those eyes of yours are ingrained in the deepest parts of my memory, a part of me that I’ve lost."

He curved one dark eyebrow. "I have yet to understand why my chest pounds around you, or why I feel out of breath at the simple sight of you. I haven’t figured out even the reason why your warmth feels familiar, so until then... you don’t get to be careless with your life, no matter how small the situation. I won’t let you. Do you understand me?"

His voice... They sounded almost as if they were echoing into her head.

She felt dizzy.

The coldness from the wall behind her shivered through her body like it would never end.

"Why.... why did you just spout all this nonsense?" She clenched from the inside, her stomach tumbling and dipping with a delicious ache. "Y-you barely even know me."

"So what?"

He pulled back to his full height of 6’6" to award her with that smile he always gave her.

"You’re my wife. And you belong to me, isn’t that right?"

"I don’t belong to you." She looked up, tensing her jaw.

His brow ticked up. "Yet, I belong to you?"

"Exactly." She hissed. "I said you were mine. You are mine. That doesn’t mean I belong to you, alright?"

"You..." He found himself lost for words, but his smile was still intact.

"Do you have a problem with it?" she questioned.