Elena’s POV:
64%
+38
The car ride to the Morozov estate was rtively fast. We arrived at around seven–thirty, the sprawling estate looming in the pre–dusk light like a fortress.
The SUV glided to a silent stop in front of the massive wrought–iron gates. I clutched the bouquet of white lilies in my hand and frowned. Was this overkill? But then, I couldn’t just show up without anything, could I? I had bought them on a whim from a small flower shop on the way out of the hospital.
I pursed my lips and exhaled a long, shaky breath. Well, whatever. Now that I was here, there was no turning back. And these flowers would just go to waste if I didn’t give them to him now that I had bought them.
Lara stepped out first. She opened the door for me and I stepped out of the SUV, the cool, evening air hitting my face with a faint chill.
“Young miss!” A voice spoke, a voice with a strong Russian ent, and I turned around to find the guy I had seen the first time I’d visited. The same one that had had a brief interaction with Fiona and had also left his number. His face, lean and sharp, broke into a soft smile as he recognized me. However due to his rugged features it looked more like a smirk.
“Roy,” I said. He seemed to rx a little, as if my remembering his name was a victory. He looked behind me, and there was an imperceptible frown as his eyes scanned the space. The disappointment was fleeting, but it was there.
“Unfortunately,” I said, a faint, sympathetic smile on my lips. “Fiona couldn’te…. maybe next time?” I watched his shoulders slump just a fraction of an inch, as though jolted out of his fleeting hope. He pursed his lips and gave a nod.
“Is she… is she, uh… in a rtionship?” he asked, the words tumbling out as if he couldn’t stop them.
I shook my head, a small, conspiratorial grin forming on my face. “Nope. She’s single. But she’s not the type to y around. I suggest you forget about her if you aren’t into long–term rtionships.” It was a warning. I had no idea why I was doing it, but it felt right.
I was moving to the gate, and he didn’t protest. He simply pressed the button, and it buzzed open, the mechanism wim quietly in the silence.
Only when I stepped in he didn’t let Benjamin enter behind me. I stopped, a frown forming on my face. The unspoken message was clear: my security coulde this far, but no further. I knew it was a gesture of control, a reminder of who was in charge here, but I didn’t feel any fear. If Sergei had wanted to harm me, he would have done so long ago.
I nodded, offering a small, reassuring smile to Benjamin. “It’s alright. I’ll go myself. Don’t worry.”
Benjamin, though reluctantly, nodded and stepped back, his posture remaining rigid and his eyes fixed on me until the gate closed with a soft thud. I knew he was ready to breach the gates at a moment’s notice if he felt I was in danger.
Roy hadn’t replied to myst statement, seeming lost in thought, his eyes still fixed on the ce where Benjamin and Lara stood. I shrugged and began the long walk toward the mansion.
As much as Fiona liked to pretend she wasn’t interested, I knew her type. She was a hopeless romantic in a cynical world. She liked the yearning ones. Even if she gave almost everyone a chance to go on a date, she never got into a rtionship or even slept with anyone unless she waspletely sure of it. She was a fortress, and only the most patient, most persistent men could ever hope to get in. Both the guys she dated in the past were lover boys, men who adored her and were willing to do anything to prove it. She especially hated men who love–bombed in the beginning and only tried a little before giving up. She had told me on multiple asions that a man who gave up easily wasn’t worth the effort.
Roy seemed like her type in terms of looks–tall, dark, and broody–but as far as his personality went, it would depend entirely on how far he was willing to go to try to get in touch with her. And yes, even I thought it was silly that Fiona believed men like those existed, men who wouldn’t just give up on her for ying hard to get. But now, with a man like Niki? A man who had broken every rule in the book to keep me, to protect me, to have me? I’d say anything was possible, even
10:11 Mon, 25 Aug@<b>P </b>
finding the guy like her type.
64%
38
Thankfully, it had gotten less chilly as the months progressed, and so my limbs didn’t feel stiff by the time I reached the front door. The grand, oak door was more intimidating up close. I reached out a hesitant hand, cing it on the door. As soon as I stepped under the scanner and touched the door, it lit up. It scanned me from head to toe. The AI announced my name like before, and the door automatically opened, revealing the well–warmed foyer.
My eyes caught the descending elevator and I made my way over. Just as I expected, the door opened, and Sergei was inside, standing alone.
Only my eyes caught the mask on his face, a simple white surgical mask that covered the lower half of his face. He looked pale and his eyes were shadowed. I frowned.
“Is it that bad?” I asked, my voice a quiet note of genuine concern.
He smiled, but the only way I noticed was the crinkling in the corners of his eyes. “Well, thankfully it isn’t contagious,” he said, his voice a little hoarse from the sickness. He trailed off, his gaze falling to my hands, where I was still clutching the bouquet of lilies. “Are those for me, dochenka?” he <i>asked</i>, a hint of genuine surprise in his tone.
I looked down and nodded, my cheeks flushing. I held them out to him awkwardly, a small offering. “I… just thought it would be weirding empty–handed.” The words sounded even more awkward and ridiculous out loud, but he simply took the bouquet from my hands.
He pressed the pink rose button on the elevator, and we began to ascend in silent stillness. I watched him hold the flowers.
“How wonderful,” he said, breaking the silence. “And here I thought I’d only ever get flowers on my deathbed.” His words made me wince<i>. </i>
“You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” I said, my voice sharp. “It’s not as though you’ve never-“I cut myself off, the realization of my own ignorance hitting me hard. How was I supposed to know if he’d ever gotten flowers before or not? My words were presumptuous.
So I corrected myself, even though I knew he was purposely showing his pitiful side, testing me, trying to see how far I would bend. “Just tell me when you <b>want </b>flowers. I’ll get them delivered for you.” I said, my voice a little firmer.
He chuckled, a dry, raspy sound that turned into a small cough. “Well… then they lose all purpose, don’t they? I would rather you bring them in person.”
“Alright. Alright. Next time, maybe,” I added, a small note of exasperation in my voice. He was a stubborn old man.
“So… to what do I owe the pleasure? I’m surprised your husband let youe here,” he questioned, his voiceced with a yful but pointed note of challenge. He was testing me again, trying to find a crack in myposure.
I frowned. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to go anywhere,” I said, which for some reason seemed like a tant lie. A part of me knew <b>I </b>probably wouldn’t havee here if Niki didn’t want me to. Not because I needed his ‘permission,‘ but because I’d rather not make him think that anyone else was more important than him. Even if it was my own blood father. The thought of hurting Niki after everything, of making him feel like he was second ce, was a far more powerful deterrent than anymand could ever be.
“And not particrly. I <b>was </b>just here to check up on you. I mean, considering how Lazar is prancing around, I thought you might really just be on your deathbed” I said, scoffing, <i>my </i>tone a bit more audacious than I had nned. He chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest, only for it to turn into a coughing fit. It was a harsh, ugly sound, and I winced, feeling a sh of pity for the old man
“You and that Niki,” <i>he </i>said, finally recovering, his voice a little rougher. “Your personalities are quite alike<i>, </i>aren’t they? Even the vocabry you use is identical”
I frowned. I hadn’t noticed that. But as I thought about it, it didn’t seem quite wrong either.
We finally stepped out of the elevator, and I realized this was a new room I hadn’te tost time. The design was
T
MON, 25
Chapes 160
slightly ridiculous Pink and fluffet rate, in a way as tot omgees The seath were a este lush pinkk and the safes were a pinch alivee doud like white with Arkan po went on the legs. It was an explialen of feminine sweetness, and it was so out of pilure in the women that it
Weather
I looked at the carpet and then it my chore, “Should I uke them wit
Tiled floors could be cleaned easily. But wearing datede che every high colored carpers Sergei chuckier and mot his shors pushing them to the side in the elevator and 1 followed his setion
1 stepped out, my feet sinking into a thick, cream colored rug Sergei motioned for me to sit before preseing a button on the inte and calling someone. “My daughter’s here to visit. How about your whip up some of those mararonne?” he wait, his voice taking on a strangely gentle tone. He hummed as he cut the call, a small, pleased cound
“Nice ambience, right?” he questioned, his voiceced with a quiet pride.
I nodded, looking around, a faint sense of disbelief still clinging to me. “Do you invite guests here?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. I tried to imagine his men, the big, beefy, tattooed guys, sitting on these pink, cloud–style was sipping tea from dainty china cups. The image was so absurd I had to bite back augh.
“You’re the first,” he said with a smile, and for some reason, my chest constricted. His words were like a quiet bomb.
“Oh…” I said, my voice soft. I suddenly felt a sense of wrongness. “How long ago did you have this room decorated?” I asked. my heart dropping at his answer.
“Twenty–five years ago.” He said.
<b>AD </b>
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