CHAPTER 21

Elara woke up slowly, her lashes fluttering against the light spilling through the sheer curtains. Her body ached in all the right places, like a song sung in the aftermath of a perfect symphony. She smiled to herself, sinking deeper into the plush bedding, her cheek pressed against the silk pillowcase that still held Nikolai's scent—cologne, spice, and something distinctly him. The ache in her thighs and the soreness between her legs were proof enough of how intense the previous night had been.

"That man," she muttered to herself, stretching slightly before wincing. "He has the stamina of ten."

She laughed softly, burying her face into the pillow. Her body tingled with every memory, from the way he had looked at her to the way he had touched her, worshipped her like she was the only woman on earth. She reached down beneath the sheets and winced again. "Maybe if we did it every day, I'd get used to his size," she mumbled, then groaned. "Hell no, I'm not some sex-crazed teenage girl. Get it together, Elara."

Still smiling, she pushed the covers off and sat up. The cool air kissed her bare skin, but she ignored it, reaching for one of Nikolai's shirts that had been discarded on the floor. She slipped it on—it was far too large on her, the hem brushing against her thighs, the sleeves falling past her wrists—but it smelled like him. Like safety. Like danger, too. The best kind.

She ran a hand through her tousled hair as she stood up and padded barefoot across the room. Nikolai wasn't in bed, but his side was still warm. He had probably just gotten up.

Curious, she wandered toward the bathroom, needing to pee before anything else. As she entered, she paused at the doorway.

There he was. Standing by the mirror, shirtless, a white towel wrapped around his hips, his body a study in strength and masculine grace. He was shaving, his face half-covered in foam, and as always, he looked unfairly good.

He caught her reflection in the mirror and smirked. "Good morning, kotenok. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," she replied groggily, then added, "I need to pee."

He turned his head slightly and motioned to the toilet behind him. "Go ahead. Unless you need help?" His eyes sparkled with mischief as he added, "I provide excellent assistance."

She rolled her eyes, moving past him. "No, thank you. I'm not that helpless."

"I'm just saying," he said, rinsing his razor. "We're in this together now. Bound by lust and bodily fluids."

She snorted, shaking her head as she lifted the toilet lid. "That is the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me. Truly."

Nikolai chuckled and went back to shaving. Elara did her business, feeling slightly awkward about doing it with him in the room. Not because she was shy, but because she'd never done it in front of a guy before.

When she flushed and stood up, he looked over his shoulder. "See? That wasn't so bad."

"Not everything has to be a bonding experience," she muttered, washing her hands.

He reached into the cabinet and tossed her a fresh toothbrush, still in its package. "Here. Figured you'd need this."

She caught it, smiling. "Prepared, huh?"

"Always," he said with a wink. "Now how about a shower?"

"Only if you behave," she warned.

"Scout's honor," he raised his hand mockingly.

She raised a brow, crossing her arms. "Because my vagina is already preparing a formal complaint against your cock."

Nikolai grinned wickedly. "Didn't sound like it last night."

"That was last night."

He leaned in slightly, his voice low and sultry. "And what about this morning?"

She swatted his arm. "Get in the shower, Volkov."

They both stepped into the spacious glass-walled shower, the steam slowly rising as the warm water poured down. The marble tiles gleamed, the scent of eucalyptus soap already permeating the air.

He kept his hands mostly to himself, but his gaze was relentless. He stood behind her, helping her wet her hair, gently massaging shampoo into her scalp, and then conditioner. Elara tried to stay composed, but every time his fingers brushed her neck or his chest grazed her back, her resolve wavered.

He leaned down, brushing his lips over her shoulder. "You smell divine."

"I smell like your shampoo."

"Exactly."

She rolled her eyes again but couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here you are."

She sighed. "I must be going crazy."

He helped rinse her off, and then they traded places. As she rinsed her hair, she caught sight of him sneaking glances at her. She turned around, pointing a warning finger. "Hands. Behave."

"I wasn't going to touch you," he said innocently.

"You were thinking about it."

"Always."

Once they were cleaned up, Elara slipped back into Nikolai's shirt—a crisp, white button-down that drowned her frame in the most comfortable way. It smelled like him: a blend of cedarwood, musk, and faint traces of his cologne. She padded barefoot into the kitchen where Nikolai was already at the stove, flipping pancakes with a precision that amused her.

"You're full of surprises," she said, leaning against the kitchen island, watching him with a soft smile.

He glanced over his shoulder and smirked. "I make a mean breakfast. You're in for a treat."

He plated the pancakes with a side of scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, and sausages. Two steaming mugs of coffee sat ready on the table, the aroma curling into the air like an invitation.

They sat at the sleek marble island, the view of the skyline behind them glowing softly in the late morning light. Elara wrapped both hands around her mug, savoring the warmth and the comfortable silence between them.

Nikolai poured syrup over his pancakes, then looked at her curiously. "Are you planning on going to church again this Sunday?"

Elara tilted her head, then chuckled. "Not really. I thought I might sleep in this time. I've been feeling a little tired lately."

Nikolai nodded, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he leaned slightly closer, his tone casual but hopeful. "Then why don't you stay? Until tomorrow afternoon, I mean. I'd like to spend more time with you."

Elara's brows lifted slightly, surprised by the softness in his voice. There was something boyish about the way he asked, something vulnerable that tugged at her heart.

She smiled, nodding. "That would be great. I'd like that too."

Nikolai grinned, clearly pleased with her answer. He sliced into his pancakes and offered her the first bite off his fork.

They continued eating, the easy rhythm of companionship settling between them like a soft blanket. There was something peaceful about this morning, something grounding, like they'd slipped into a rhythm that made sense without having to try. The city buzzed far below them, but up here, in the cocoon of his penthouse, everything was warm, quiet, and just a little bit perfect.

As they finished their meal, the light from the windows spilled over the table, wrapping them in golden calm. Neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt it—this morning was the kind they'd remember. Not because of anything grand, but because of how simple and good it was.

-------

It was later in the afternoon, the golden light of the sun spilling lazily through the penthouse windows. A soft breeze carried the faint scent of Nikolai's cologne from his discarded blazer, which hung over the back of a leather armchair. Elara stretched across the large sectional in the living room, the television murmuring low in the background while she scrolled absentmindedly through her phone. Her thoughts drifted back to breakfast, the easy conversation, the teasing looks, the way Nikolai's hand brushed hers when he passed her the orange juice. It had all felt…natural. Sweet, even.

She got up and padded barefoot toward the bedroom, still wearing his oversized black shirt that fell to her mid-thigh. The hem swayed with each step, brushing against her legs like whispers of comfort. Her phone had been charging on the nightstand beside the bed. She grabbed it and noticed several notifications lighting up the screen. Mostly messages from Maya, who apparently had been waiting all morning to hear from her.

MAYA:

> Bitch where r u?? 👀👀

MAYA:

> Don't tell me you stayed at Mr. Billionaire's palace 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

Elara smiled faintly, typing back with an eye roll emoji.

ELARA:

> I'm at his place.

A second later, Maya replied.

MAYA:

> OH MY GODDDD I KNEW IT

Is this the part where I start shopping for bridesmaid dresses??

When is the wedding?? Don't be shy, I want a dress code.

Elara snorted softly, shaking her head. Trust Maya to jump ten steps ahead.

ELARA:

> Chill. It's not even that serious yet.

We haven't been together that long.

MAYA:

> "Yet." You said yet. Girl you're doomed 😂💅🏽

ELARA:

> You're so annoying.

The texting back and forth continued for a while, playful jabs and lighthearted sarcasm filling the screen. But even through the banter, a warmth bloomed in Elara's chest. She didn't want to admit it, but she was falling for Nikolai. Hard.

Eventually, she set the phone down and stood. The apartment was quiet again, too quiet. She figured Nikolai was probably catching up on work emails or some business call. She walked into the hallway, planning to check if he wanted coffee or anything from the kitchen, but paused when she heard his voice.

It wasn't his usual tone—the one laced with that velvety confidence or teasing affection. This voice was clipped. Sharp. Angry.

She frowned and followed the sound, her bare feet silent against the polished hardwood floor. It was coming from the end of the hallway, from a door slightly ajar—his study. She stopped just outside, not intending to eavesdrop, but the words froze her blood.

"…I don't care if two of them escaped, Sergei," Nikolai barked. "They shouldn't have been able to in the first place. I trusted you with this shipment and now we're dealing with pregnant girls and bruised bodies? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"

Elara's breath hitched. Her hand gripped the edge of the wall.

Shipment?

Girls?

Her pulse thundered in her ears. She tried to convince herself she was misunderstanding, but his next words drove the blade deeper.

"This isn't a fucking charity. If they're pregnant, take them to the clinic and fix it. We're not babysitting anyone. And I don't want another word about the two who got away unless it's to tell me they're back in containment."

Her heart dropped to her stomach.

No. No, she must have heard that wrong. Nikolai wasn't that kind of man. He couldn't be.

This had to be something else. Some coded language. Anything but… that.

But his tone. The rage. The authority. The callousness in his words—like he was talking about broken shipments of goods, not human beings.

He sounded like a man used to power. Used to control. And worse—used to making these kinds of decisions. Cold decisions.

Her vision blurred as tears welled at the back of her eyes. She took a shaky step backward, making sure her movement didn't creak against the wooden floor. She couldn't let him know she heard.

Not yet.

She crept away from the door, heart hammering, ears ringing. She didn't know what to think. Her mind was spiraling with disbelief, horror, and confusion.

This couldn't be real.

The man who made her laugh so easily over waffles.

The man who watched a romcom with her without complaint.

The man who kissed her forehead like she was a treasure.

She reached the bedroom door and slipped inside, her hands trembling slightly. She shut the door softly behind her and sat on the edge of the bed, her legs folding beneath her.

Her phone vibrated again—probably another text from Maya—but she ignored it this time. Her thoughts were a mess. Her heart was aching.

She tried to breathe, but the air suddenly felt thinner.

How was she supposed to reconcile the Nikolai she was falling for with the man behind that door?

She had no answers.

Only fear. Only questions.

And the terrifying knowledge that she had just learned something she was never supposed to hear.