Nikolai carried Rose to his car, cradling her gently in his arms as though she might break. Her body felt feverish against his chest, and her breath came in short, uneven gasps. He opened the passenger side door with one hand and carefully set her down, buckling her seatbelt before shutting the door. Then, he rounded the car and slipped into the driver's seat, starting the engine.
Rose shifted in her seat, her head lolling to the side. Her voice was weak, slurred. "It's... it's hot."
He glanced at her, worry shadowing his eyes. "Hold on, we'll be home soon. I'll get a doctor for you."
But Rose didn't seem to hear him. Her pupils were dilated, her hands trembling slightly as they gripped the edge of her seat. Her mind felt like it was wrapped in fog, thick and disorienting. The drug coursing through her veins made her skin crawl with heat and need.
"S-stop the car," she said, her voice desperate.
Nikolai frowned, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. "What do you mean, stop the car?"
"Stop the car or I'm jumping," she snapped, her breathing becoming more ragged.
He swore under his breath and took a sharp turn into a narrow alley, pulling the car to a stop beneath a flickering streetlight. The alley was quiet, the city sounds muted by the thick walls on either side.
"Okay, why did you—" he started, but his words were cut off when Rose unbuckled her seatbelt and slid across the console.
She straddled him, her legs on either side of his thighs, her breath brushing against his neck. "Rose, what are you doing?" he asked, jaw clenching tightly.
Her hands were trembling, but determined. "That asshole drugged me. Help me, Nikolai. Just this once. I'm willing to not hate you for one night—just help me. I'm dying."
"Rose, no," he said firmly, even as his body responded to her presence. His hands hovered near her waist but didn't touch. "We'll get you a doctor. Not like this."
She leaned forward, her lips brushing his in a kiss filled with heat and desperation. Nikolai groaned softly but pulled away almost immediately.
"You're not yourself," he said, his voice low and conflicted.
Tears welled in her eyes, spilling freely down her flushed cheeks. "I just want to make it stop. Please."
Her voice cracked, raw and vulnerable. She tried to kiss him again, but he stopped her with both hands, gently but firmly pushing her back. As much of an asshole as he was, he had never touched a drunk or drugged woman. And Rose—he wanted her, yes, but not like this. Not when she wouldn't remember it.
She didn't stop. Her hands moved to his belt, fumbling. His hands caught hers again.
"Just tonight," she whispered. "Let's put our hatred aside."
He sighed, his eyes closing for a moment. He was losing his resolve.
Her hands moved again, trailing down his chest and back to his belt. His fingers brushed up and down her thighs, torn between desire and restraint. She was making it very, very hard for him to think straight. He was already hard—more than he wanted to admit. And unlike the women who had come before, Rose hadn't even tried. She didn't have to.
Her body leaned into his. Her lips hovered near his jaw. Her breath was hot against his neck.
She reached under her dress, about to move her panties aside when Nikolai snapped back to himself.
"No," he said suddenly.
He grabbed her waist and gently but firmly lifted her off his lap. He guided her back to the passenger seat and buckled her in before she could resist.
"I can't do this, Rose. Not like this."
He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a small vial and syringe. A sedative. It was a habit he hadn't kicked from his darker days—a tool he rarely used, but always carried.
"This will help you sleep. You'll thank me tomorrow," he said, almost to himself.
He injected the sedative into her upper arm. Within seconds, Rose's eyes fluttered closed. Her body slumped into the seat, her breath evening out as the drug took hold. Nikolai leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his thick dark hair, exhaling heavily.
"That was harder than I thought," he muttered.
He started the engine again and pulled out of the alley, the city's night lights flickering over his windshield. The streets were quiet, and the silence gave him time to think. He didn't want to be the man who took advantage of someone so vulnerable. If he was going to ruin Rose, make her forget her name, make her scream his name—it had to be when she was fully aware. Sober. Present.
He parked in the underground garage of his building and walked around to the passenger side. He opened the door and unbuckled her carefully. He lifted her in his arms again and carried her into the elevator. Her head rested against his chest, her soft breath fanning over his collarbone.
The penthouse was silent as he entered. The doors closed behind him with a soft hiss.
He carried her past the guest rooms and into his own bedroom. The lights were dim, casting shadows on the dark walls. He placed her on the bed gently and pulled the sheets up to her waist. Her face was peaceful now, the tension gone, lost in drugged sleep.
He reached for his phone, quickly typing out a message.
NIKOLAI: Get a doctor here now.
He slid the phone back into his pocket and looked down at her again. He studied her features—soft, flushed, beautiful even in sleep. She didn't belong in his world. And yet, here she was, in his bed, tangled in his life.
Maybe the old Nikolai would've used her. Maybe he would've taken what she offered without a second thought. But that version of himself had died long ago.
Now, even if he still found pleasure in pain, he wanted control—of himself, of the situation, of her. He didn't want a woman who couldn't remember his name in the morning. He wanted her to feel everything.
He turned off the main light, leaving the room bathed in soft golden lamp glow. He sat down on the armchair in the corner, elbows on his knees, rubbing the back of his neck.
He waited.
Waited for the doctor. Waited for the chaos that was sure to follow. Waited, because in that moment, he realized something unsettling.
He didn't just want to ruin Rose.
He wanted her to remember it.
Every second.
Every scream.
Every kiss.