CHAPTER 17

As they pulled away from the auction house, the city lights turned into a blur outside the tinted windows of the sleek black car. Elara sat quietly beside Nikolai, her fingers brushing the cool surface of the emerald pendant resting against her collarbone. The adrenaline from the evening still pulsed in her veins—being surrounded by wealth, high society.

He hadn't said much since they got in the car, but she could sense something brewing under the calm surface of his features. He drove with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting possessively on her thigh, the pads of his fingers tracing soft, slow circles through the satin fabric of her dress.

She turned to him, curious. "You okay?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he made a sharp right turn down a narrow alley, surrounded by tall buildings and shadows. The hum of the city was distant here. He shifted the gear into park.

Elara blinked. "Um... why are we stopping?"

He looked at her then—his eyes dark, his mouth tilting into that faint, irresistible smirk. "Come here."

She hesitated, her heart giving a strange leap. "Nikolai…"

"Come here, zaychik." His voice dipped low, that Russian endearment curling around her name like smoke.

The intensity in his gaze drew her forward before she even realized she was moving. She climbed over the center console, easing herself into his lap, her knees pressing into the soft leather seat as her arms curled around his neck.

His hands settled on her hips like he'd done it a thousand times before. "Do you know what you did to me tonight?"

She shook her head, whispering, "What?"

"That dress. That necklace. That look in your eyes." His breath ghosted over her lips, making her shiver. "You made it very hard for me to be a gentleman."

She leaned in, her lips brushing his. "You're never a gentleman."

He chuckled low in his throat, then kissed her—deep and consuming, all fire and longing. She melted into him, her fingers threading through his dark hair as the kiss deepened. The air in the car thickened with heat and want.

One of his hands slid down her thigh, lifting the hem of her dress with slow, purposeful fingers. The cool air hit her bare skin, and her breath caught.

But then, she pressed her palm against his chest, just enough to make him pause.

"Nikolai, wait," she said softly. "I don't… I don't have a condom."

He stilled, breathing heavily. For a moment, he simply looked at her, eyes full of desire and restraint battling in equal measure.

Then, a slow, wicked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Good thing I do."

He kissed her again, deeper this time, his hand lifting the hem of her forest green dress as she gasped softly against his lips. His fingers found the edge of her panties, moving them aside with practiced care, and he began to trace slow, deliberate circles against her clit.

Elara let out a quiet moan, her body reacting instinctively to his touch. She kissed him harder, her hands clutching at the car seat for stability as her back arched. When his fingers slid inside her—two of them, slow and sure—she gasped into his mouth, the rhythm building with each stroke.

"Niko…" she whispered, breathless.

"You're so wet," he murmured against her neck, his voice rough and low. He continued to move his fingers, rubbing her clit in tandem, expertly coaxing her toward release. Her body trembled as the pressure built, until it finally broke in a rush of pleasure that made her cry out his name, loud and unfiltered.

He held her through it, kissing her gently now, like he was trying to soothe the storm he had created. Then, without a word, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. She watched with dazed eyes as he slid the condom on, her pulse racing.

Positioning himself at her entrance, he paused, looking into her eyes—asking without words.

She nodded, slow and sure, her breath still uneven.

He entered her gradually, groaning softly as he sank into her heat. She whimpered, adjusting to his size, and he kissed her forehead while giving her time. But once she shifted, her hips moving to meet his, he gripped her waist and began to thrust—slow at first, then deeper, harder, as if he couldn't hold back any longer.

She moaned, her voice trembling, clinging to him as he moved inside her. "Nikolai…"

He had promised himself he would be gentle. But the way she looked, the way she sounded, the way she felt—she drove him out of his mind.

Her body met each of his thrusts eagerly, and his name spilled from her lips again and again, the car filled with the sound of ragged breathing and shared pleasure. Her mind felt like it had gone blank, lost in the overwhelming tide of sensation and want.

Nikolai's movements grew more erratic, his breath coming in gasps as he neared his release. With a final groan, he stilled, holding her tight as he found his own end.

For a moment, everything was still. Just their breathing, the thudding of hearts, the quiet hum of the city outside the car.

Then he kissed her—softly this time. Tender.

The quiet hum of the car engine was the only sound in the dim alleyway now. The windows were fogged slightly from the heat between them, their breaths still uneven. Elara slowly leaned back, her body still humming with the aftershocks of their connection. Her cheeks were flushed, her lipstick slightly smudged, her hair a little wild—but her eyes shone, dazed and soft.

Nikolai's hands were still on her waist, thumbs gently stroking her sides as if grounding her. As if he didn't want to let go.

But eventually, she exhaled a small, breathy laugh, brushing her hair back from her face. "That was… spontaneous."

He gave her a crooked smile, voice husky. "I told you that dress would drive me insane."

With a soft sigh, she began to shift, sliding carefully off his lap and back into her seat. Her movements were a little shaky, her dress falling back down her thighs as she adjusted it. Nikolai reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a packet of wipes, handing them to her without a word. His expression was unreadable—still composed, but with something gentler under the surface.

"Thanks," she murmured, cheeks warming as she took the wipes from him. She wiped her inner thighs delicately, biting her lip at the intimacy of it all. It wasn't something she'd ever pictured herself doing—in a car, in an alley, with a man like him.

A dangerous, beautiful man who made her forget everything else.

Nikolai took care of the used condom silently, his movements precise and efficient, as if even this part of the aftermath was something he did with control. When he was done, he adjusted his slacks and leaned back in the seat, running a hand through his dark hair. The silence wasn't uncomfortable—it was heavy with something else. Fulfillment. Hunger, still lingering. A shift.

Elara glanced at him, catching his profile in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. "So… is this a regular post-auction activity for you?" she teased, trying to break the tension.

His eyes flicked toward her, one brow raised. "Only when I'm with someone worth more than anything I could've bid on tonight."

That shut her up. Her breath caught again—not from lust, but from the emotion curling around her ribs. He didn't smile. He meant every word.

"I'm serious, Elara."

She looked away, biting her lip, heart thudding in her chest. "You say things like that and expect me not to fall harder?"

"I don't expect you not to," he said simply, leaning in and brushing his knuckles along her cheek. "I want you to."

Her laugh was soft, disbelieving. "You're going to ruin me."

"I'm already ruined," he said under his breath, so quiet she barely heard it.

But she did.

The tension shifted again, sweet and heavy, as he reached forward and started the car once more. They didn't speak as he drove out of the alley and back onto the road, but their hands found each other in the center console—fingers tangled, warm and steady.

The drive back to Elara's apartment was quiet, but not in the awkward way. It was the kind of silence that existed between two people who no longer needed to fill every second with words. The alleyway had left them both breathless and charged, but now there was a softness in the air—a sense of quiet connection, like the calm after a storm.

Nikolai's hand rested loosely on the steering wheel, the other settled on the center console where her fingers had been only minutes ago. The city lights painted shifting shadows across his face as he drove, illuminating the thoughtful lines around his mouth, the intensity behind his eyes.

Elara sat beside him, watching the familiar roads blur past. Her cheeks were still warm from earlier, her skin humming with a kind of electricity she didn't know how to name. Her dress was smooth again, her hair quickly fixed up with a clip from her purse, but her heart hadn't yet calmed.

When he finally slowed and pulled into the curb outside her building, the weight of goodbye started to creep in. She didn't want to leave. Not really. Being with Nikolai felt like stepping out of her own life and into a different world—one where expensive auctions and passionate alleyway kisses were normal. But it also felt strangely… safe. Safe in the arms of a man whose danger radiated beneath the surface like heat from a fire.

He shifted the car into park, then turned slightly in his seat to look at her. "Home sweet home," he murmured.

She smiled softly, glancing up at the brick building she had come to love. It wasn't grand, not like his penthouse, but it was hers. "Thank you for tonight," she said, her voice quiet and genuine. "For everything."

He tilted his head slightly, eyes lingering on her face. "You don't need to thank me. I enjoyed it… more than you know."

Elara's lips curved into a smile, and then, almost hesitantly, she asked, "Are you planning on going to church again this Sunday?"

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. Of all the things she could've asked him, that wasn't one he had expected.

He tried not to smirk, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Only if you're going."

She laughed softly, her eyes twinkling in the dim interior of the car. "I was going to. That's why I'm asking."

He nodded, a slow gesture that carried more weight than she probably realized. "Then I'll be there," he said, his voice low and certain. "With you."

Elara leaned in then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. It was slower this time—gentler, like a thank-you wrapped in warmth and affection. She pulled back reluctantly, her hand brushing his cheek.

"Text me when you get home," she whispered.

"I will," he promised.

With a final look, she reached for the door handle, her heels clicking softly as she stepped out of the car. He watched as she walked up the steps, her dress moving like forest water in the moonlight. She paused at the door, turned, and waved. He waved back.

When she finally disappeared inside, the illusion shattered just a little, and reality crept in.

Nikolai leaned back in his seat and exhaled a long breath, one hand dragging across his jaw.

Church.

He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head as he stared out the windshield. He wasn't a church kind of man. Hadn't been for years. Not since he saw how blood could pool on marble floors just as easily as it could on dirt. Not since his hands were stained with sins too dark for confession. Repentance wasn't a word in his vocabulary. Not anymore.

But for her?

He would walk into any church she asked him to, sit on a pew beside her with his demons quieted for the hour, and watch her bow her head in prayer like a halo might appear above her head at any moment.

He laughed again—this time a little louder. "If my mother hears about this…" he muttered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel.

Natalia Volkov would celebrate it like a national holiday. She had spent the better half of a decade begging him to reconnect with something pure. Church, love, tradition—anything that didn't have blood under its fingernails. If she ever found out there was a woman who managed to get her son to willingly walk into a church again, she'd want to meet her desperately.

His lips curved into a smile. A real one.

He didn't regret tonight. Not a single moment of it. Not the auction, not the kiss, not the spontaneous fire in the alley. And certainly not the soft glow in Elara's eyes when she looked at him like he wasn't a monster wrapped in expensive suits.

Sunday would come.

And he'd be there.

With her.

Even if it meant sitting under a cross that felt like it was watching him too closely.