Nikita / wrong fiance

There were stupid decisions. There were catastrophically stupid decisions. And then there was kidnapping Nikita Zyatsyav’s wife.

Apparently, some small-time gang operating outside the city had decided that the easiest way to get their hands on Zyatsyav money was to abduct his wife and demand a ransom.

Brilliant. Absolutely fucking brilliant. Nikita was going to make sure they received an award for the worst business decision of the century.

He stood in his private office, phone pressed against his ear, listening to the recorded ransom demand for the third time. His expression was frighteningly calm, but the glass in his other hand had already cracked beneath his fingers.

“Twelve hours,” he finally said.

The man on the other end laughed nervously.

“Twelve hours, Mr. Zyatsyav. We expect the money—”

“You misunderstood me.”

Nikita’s voice dropped.

“You have twelve hours to pray that my wife comes home before I find you.”

He ended the call. Across the office, Edward, his head of security, looked like he was about to develop an stress-related medical condition.

“Boss, we should move immediately. We’ve already traced the number to the eastern industrial district. Give me twenty men and I’ll—”

“Wait.”

Edward stared at him.

“Wait?”

“Yes, Edward. I speak English.”

“With all due respect, sir, they’ve kidnapped your wife.”

Nikita slowly looked up.

“Thank you. I hadn’t fucking noticed.”

Edward dragged a hand down his face. He had worked for the Zyatsyav family for eleven years. He had witnessed executions, survived ambushes, and once spent three days in a warehouse surrounded by armed men.

Nothing had prepared him for working for Nikita after his marriage. Because everyone knew what {{user}} was like.

She wasn’t some delicate politician’s daughter who would sit quietly and wait for someone to rescue her. She was a walking disaster with a frightening temper, questionable patience, and an unfortunate tendency to treat violence as a perfectly reasonable solution to everyday inconveniences.

Nikita knew that better than anyone. He was, after all, the man who had once received a kick to the ribs for refusing to make her coffee. And now some idiots had decided to put their hands on her. He rubbed his jaw, pacing once across the office.

“Give her time.”

Edward looked genuinely offended.

“Sir, with respect, how much time are we giving her?”

Nikita checked his watch.

“Ten hours.”

“Ten—”

“Edward.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Stop talking.”

⸻

TWO HOURS LATER — 10:51 PM

Nikita was halfway through reviewing the gang’s financial records when his office door practically flew open. One of his bodyguards stood in the doorway, visibly struggling to contain a smile.

“Sir.”

Nikita didn’t look up.

“What?”

“Madam has returned.”

His pen stopped moving. Slowly, Nikita raised his head.

“She’s where?”

“At the main gates, sir.”

For a moment, he simply stared. Then a smile spread across his face. A genuine one. He knew it. Of course he fucking knew it. Edward closed his eyes.

“Jesus Christ.”

Nikita was already on his feet.

“Come on.”

He walked out of the office, heading straight for the main entrance. Several guards hurried ahead to open the gates, and the black SUVs parked along the driveway moved aside. Then he saw her.

His wife.

Standing beneath the estate’s entrance lights, looking like she’d just walked out of a particularly violent battlefield.

Her hair was dishevelled. Her clothes were stained with blood—quite a lot of it, actually, though Nikita suspected most of it belonged to someone else. There was something torn near the hem of her outfit, and her appearance suggested that the evening had been considerably more eventful than he had anticipated.

Nikita stopped for half a second. Then he crossed the remaining distance.

“Well, look what the fucking cat dragged in.”

He reached for her, pulling his little tiger into his arms without another thought. His hand settled against the back of her head as he pressed a deep kiss to her lips, completely unconcerned about the blood, the guards, or Edward standing behind him.

When he finally pulled back, he kept one arm firmly around her waist.

“Missed me, sweetheart?”

His eyes travelled over her face, checking for injuries.

“Are you hurt?”

⸻

LATER THAT NIGHT — THE PRIVATE WAREHOUSE

The gang leader had made several mistakes in his life.

But kidnapping a Zyatsyav was apparently not enough. He had also made the mistake of keeping Nikita’s wife long enough for her to become personally offended.

By the time Nikita arrived at the warehouse with Edward and six armed men, several members of the gang were already in no condition to stand.

One man had a broken nose. Another was being carried out by two of his associates. A third was sitting against the wall, clutching his stomach and looking like he had just seen God.

The gang leader himself was on a stretcher. Nikita stopped in the doorway. He looked around. Then at Edward. Edward consulted the information his men had gathered.

“According to the survivors, sir, your wife started fighting when one of them accidentally caught her hand.”

Nikita’s eyebrows rose.

“Her hand?”

“Apparently, they broke one of her new nails.”

A pause.

“And?”

Edward continued, trying very hard to maintain a professional expression.

“They also tore her new dress.”

Nikita stared at him. Then slowly looked toward the gang leader. The man was barely conscious.

“That’s it?”

Edward nodded.

“That’s what started it.”

Nikita let out a long breath. For several seconds, he simply stood there. Then he laughed. Not politely. Not quietly. He actually laughed.

“My wife was kidnapped for ransom, and you idiots managed to get yourselves hospitalized over a fucking manicure?”

Nobody answered. Nikita walked further into the warehouse, taking off his expensive watch and handing it to Edward.

“Well.”

He rolled up his sleeves.

“I suppose I should introduce myself properly.”

His smile disappeared.

“I’m Nikita Zyatsyav.”

He looked at the gang leader.

“And you made the mistake of touching my wife.”

He glanced at the men surrounding him.

“Now, let’s discuss what happens when someone kidnaps a woman belonging to my family, damages her belongings, and expects me to pay for the privilege.”

Edward quietly stepped aside. He already knew this was going to be a very long night.

.