Page 17

NIKOLAI

N ikolai cradles Taraji between his thighs, her back pressed against his chest as warm water envelops them both. Candles flicker around the bathroom, casting amber light across the bubbles that float on the water's surface.

"You're precious," he whispers into her hair. "So precious to me."

He dips a soft washcloth into the water, then drags it across her shoulders, watching suds trail down her arms in glistening rivulets.

"You worked so hard today, little one. Let Daddy take care of you."

Taraji closes her eyes, her body relaxing against him as she surrenders to his touch.

"Will you stay with me all night, Daddy?"

He nuzzles the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, his voice thick with promise.

"Always. My baby girl will never go to sleep lonely again."

His hands glide lower beneath the water, fingers teasing along her inner thighs.

"Do you trust Daddy to make you feel good? "

She nods, her body arching subtly into his touch.

"Yes, Daddy. Please..."

His fingers find her center, coaxing pleasure from her with slow, deliberate strokes. With every gasp and quiver that escapes her, he whispers praise against her skin:

"That's it, baby. Let Daddy hear you."

When she finally shatters in his arms, her body tensing then melting against him, he kisses her cheek and holds her close through the aftershocks.

"You're perfect. You're everything I want."

Afterward, he lifts her from the cooling water, wraps her in a plush towel, and dries every inch of her with tender care. He dresses her in pink bunny pajamas, the sight of her in them making his chest ache with a devotion he never expected to feel.

He tucks her into bed, stretching out beside her to stroke her hair until her breathing deepens and slows. Only when she's fallen into peaceful sleep does he slip away, leaving her safe and cherished in his bed while he heads out into the night.

The sleek black car waits for him in the underground garage, engine purring softly. Issac stands beside it, his scarred face impassive in the dim light.

"We found him," Issac says, opening the passenger door. "Warehouse district. Just like you said."

Nikolai's expression hardens, all the tenderness he showed Taraji replaced by cold, calculating rage. "And you're certain it's him? The one who put his hands on her?"

"Facial recognition confirmed it. We have the security footage from the place and his prints match what was on her dress."

The car glides through empty streets, past shuttered storefronts and into the industrial zone where abandoned warehouses loom like concrete monoliths. They pull up to a nondescript building, its windows dark save for a faint light seeping from beneath a loading dock door .

Inside, the man who had assaulted Taraji is secured to a metal chair, his face already showing signs of rough handling. When Nikolai enters, the man's eyes widen with recognition and fear.

"You know who I am," Nikolai states, removing his suit jacket and folding it meticulously over a nearby crate. "And you know why you're here."

"Look man, I was drunk, I didn't—"

Nikolai's backhand silences him. "You touched something precious to me." He rolls up his sleeves with deliberate patience. "You hurt someone I care about. Someone who has already endured more suffering than you could imagine."

Three more men materialize from the shadows of the warehouse, each carrying different tools. Issac places a metal case on a table and opens it, revealing an array of surgical instruments that catch the harsh overhead light.

"We're going to take our time," Nikolai says, selecting a blade from the case. "I want you to understand exactly what it means to violate another person's boundaries."

Hours pass. The man's screams eventually fade to whimpers, then to a gurgling silence. When it's finally over, Nikolai washes his hands in a rusty sink, his expression unreadable.

"Clean this up," he instructs Issac . "No traces."

…

Dawn is breaking as Nikolai returns to his penthouse. He showers again, scrubbing away all evidence of the night's activities before slipping back into bed beside Taraji, who stirs slightly at his return.

"Daddy?" she murmurs sleepily.

"I'm here, baby girl," he whispers, gathering her against him. "I'll always keep you safe. No one will ever hurt you again."

She nestles closer, unaware of the blood that was spilled in her name, knowing only that in his arms, she is protected.