Once everything was ready, we sat in a row along the edge of the lake, our hooks dangling in the clear water. Igor stayed calm and focused, eyes fixed on the surface, while Trisha kept nagging Pascha for swinging his line so wildly it nearly smacked me in the face.“Pascha! If you hit me with that, I swear I’ll drown you,” I warned.He just laughed and reeled his line in a bit more carefully. “All right, Miss Cooking-and-Fishing Expert. Look at you doing everything perfectly.”A light breeze drifted through, sending soft ripples across the lake. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow. It was peaceful, just the sound of water lapping and the wind rustling through the trees.Suddenly, Igor’s hook twitched. Without a word, he gave it a calm tug. A large trout broke the surface, thrashing, its silver scales catching the light.“See?” Igor said flatly. “That’s how you do it.”Trisha stared. “Oh my God, how often do you fish here?”Igor simply shrugged and dropped the fish
The blazing Siberian summer sun still ruled the sky as we left the calm lakeshore behind. Igor led the way through the shady pine forest, occasionally lifting a hand to signal when the path grew steep or rocky.Thick underbrush surrounded us, the green leaves rustling softly as our boots crunched over dry twigs.Pascha walked right behind Igor, his shirt soaked through with sweat. Trisha muttered under her breath behind me, kicking at the occasional rock on the dusty trail. I raised my arms to fix my hair, which had mainly slipped from its high ponytail.“How much farther, Igor?” Trisha asked, her tone more of a groan than a question.Igor shrugged without looking back. “Almost there.”Trisha let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. “You’ve been saying that for the past half hour.”Pascha glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up already.”Trisha shot him a glare. “I’m just making sure we don’t get lost in the middle of the Siberian forest.”Igor chuckled
The sky stretched endlessly above us, scattered with stars like careless handfuls of diamonds. A crescent moon bathed the small wooden cabin in a soft, silvery light.We lay sprawled out on a thick rug spread across the front yard. It was plush, coarse to the touch but warm, woven in bold tribal patterns that burst with color. Igor, somehow still looking fresh despite a full day of extreme activity, sat with his back against a tall pine tree, methodically sharpening his knife.Trisha was flat on her back, limbs splayed like a starfish, her breathing deep and heavy. Pascha sat cross-legged behind me, his hands kneading into my shoulders with just enough pressure to make me wince and enjoy it at the same time.“Your poor tiny body,” Pascha teased, his fingers loosening the tight knots in my shoulders.I let out a long sigh and tilted my head, glancing back at him from the corner of my eye. “Not that tiny.”He chuckled, letting his fingers slide lower to the muscles beneath my shoulder b
That afternoon, the Moscow sun poured through the tall windows of the Romanov family room. Light danced across the marble floors and reflected softly off the polished table, making the whole space look like a living painting—elegant, expensive, and loud.I sat at the end of a long sofa, holding a warm cup of tea. Its scent blended with the lavender from a vase on the coffee table. My hair was still damp from a long shower after our trip back from Siberia, and my legs ached just a little. But I barely noticed—too absorbed by the scene playing out in front of me.“—You dragged us all the way to Siberia, and now I’m sneezing every five minutes!” Trisha flung a pillow at Igor, who barely flinched as he blocked it with his elbow.“You’re sneezing not because of Siberia, but because you refused to wear a jacket,” Igor replied flatly, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.“I couldn’t wear that army green thing you call a jacket! It’s an insult to my entire aesthetic!” Trisha
Morning came without mercy.The sun climbed slowly behind the thin curtains I’d forgotten to close correctly the night before. I was still in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling that looked exactly the same as it did yesterday. The morning air drifted in through the cracked window, salty, laced with the scent of the sea.Usually, that smell calmed me. Today, it only made my chest feel heavier.I hadn’t slept. Or maybe I had—that didn’t feel real for a few minutes. My mind was still tangled in last night’s mess. My father’s cold stare, my mother’s too-sweet smile that barely passed for sincerity. Their words echoed like voices down a long, narrow hallway that led nowhere.I pushed the blanket aside and sat up, facing the tall glass window that stretched from floor to ceiling. From where I sat, I could see the shimmering silver line of San Francisco’s coast glowing in the early sun. The waves rolled in slowly, peacefully, unlike the noise in my head.“Mommyyyy!” His shout came from t
The front door opened with its usual sound, a bit creaky, a little heavy, but it never bothered anyone, because the person who always came through it never felt the need to knock first.Pascha Romanov walked right into my house, like always. As if it wasn’t mine. As if boundaries were a concept that didn’t apply to his stupid head. And the truth was, I never really figured out how high a wall I needed to keep him out.He was a storm that had grown used to passing through without asking permission.Max launched out of his chair like a mini rocket, leaving the last piece of his pancake behind without a second thought.“Daddyyyyyy!” he shouted, his little feet pounding across the floor as he crashed into Pascha with a tackle of hugs and breathless chatter. “Mommy was soooo annoying today! I just said I didn’t wanna take a bath and she went off like the news on TV!”Pascha chuckled softly, lifting Max into his arms without effort, “Oh yeah?” Pascha shot me a quick glance, half a smile pla
The midday sky hung cloudless, a clean blue canvas yet to be written on. On the warm, breezy shore of San Francisco, I sat on a white canvas folding chair, my bare feet touching sand that still held the chill of morning. Beside me, a cold water bottle beaded with condensation and a gently vibrating phone, my only interruption in an otherwise peaceful silence I was beginning to savor.I picked up the phone and glanced at the screen.A message from Pascha.The first photo popped up with a soft notification sound. Max was in Trisha’s arms. Her long blonde hair was braided into two neat plaits, a straw hat tilted playfully on her head. Max looked half-squished, but happy, his cheek nearly disappearing behind Trisha’s oversized sunglasses.Second photo. Max was perched on Igor’s shoulders. Max was laughing, mouth wide open, arms thrown up in the air. He lifted him higher as they walked among the tall, leafy trees of Carmel.I smiled, letting a quiet warmth spread through my chest. Not beca
Clara showed up just minutes after I sent the message. With slow steps and eyes barely open, she walked toward us dragging a gray blanket behind her like it was an oversized royal cape. Her hair was a mess, and her expression, well, like the world had woken her up five centuries too early.“I smell empanadas,” she mumbled without preamble, plopping down onto the sand with zero regard for grace.Jullian stifled a laugh and held out a plate. “I admire your lifestyle.”“I don’t remember who you are,” Clara answered with a huge yawn, grabbing an arepa and taking a bite like a zombie discovering its first victim. “But you make excellent life choices.”I shook my head and scooped a bite of arroz con pollo into my mouth. “Clara, you can’t keep napping like this every afternoon.”“Relax. I dreamt I was watching Max,” she shot back. “Technically, I’m still on duty.”Jullian chuckled, then glanced over at me. “Speaking of Max…”I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”“I keep thinking about that dinner we
The dinner table was packed with small dishes. Lasagna, garlic bread, spinach salad, and a big bowl of mashed potatoes that Aurora had prepared with scientific precision. In the middle of it all, Max and Mischa sat side by side, both wearing plastic aprons with robots and unicorns on them.“So...,” Aurora muttered, “you have two kids now?”“It’s... an emergency situation.”Kyara, sitting beside Aurora, immediately jumped in. “Emergency? Emergency? From where I'm sitting, that mini-Russian has already claimed territory in your house.”Max, his mouth full of cheese, pointed at Mischa. "She's cool! She’s teaching me Russian! Now I can say ‘robot’ in a badass voice! Robot." Max said, with an accent that was... highly questionable.Mischa just kept chewing her bread, unfazed. Her gaze was blank yet sharp, like a tiny Wednesday Addams who had wandered into a happy family dinner."I don't need an invitation," Mischa said casually, shrugged. "I'm already here."Aurora raised an eyebrow. "You
That morning, the sun hung low over the San Francisco skyline, casting a soft glow that danced across the glass walls of the headquarters. I stood in front of the final presentation slide for the Lantum Mining project, the hum of the air purifier quietly filling the room, and my heart beat in an unfamiliar rhythm: slow… but heavy.Around me, the tech team was assembling the final report and prepping the soft launch of our AI-based ground stability monitoring system, soon to be deployed at the last satellite mining site. On the screen, every indicator was green. All the data integration, tech synchronization, and final testing. Flawless.“This,” I said, clicking the last slide on the remote, “is our final milestone. We’re officially done.”There was a soft round of applause. Not wild. But enough. Because this wasn’t just about finishing a project, it was validation. Of our work, our choices, our resilience.And for a moment, I just stood there. Staring at the screen.Then the breath ca
I was driving with one hand, the other resting under my chin. Kyara sat in the passenger seat, wearing oversized sunglasses that looked like they belonged to a celebrity fresh off a Vogue shoot.“I still can’t believe it,” she said. “She’s pregnant, Bell. And you… you just—” She twisted toward me and let out a strangled noise of pure frustration. “—offered yourself up like a sandwich he dropped five years ago!”I clenched my jaw. “Ky…”“No, seriously.” Her voice was low and sharp. “He slept with Mikaela when you were about to marry him, then you got pregnant, and now Mikaela is pregnant and you slept with him again. I’m sorry, but this isn’t a soap opera anymore. This is Shakespearean tragedy with WiFi.”I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I know. I… know.”But knowing wasn’t enough. Not when the shame crawled from the back of my neck to my cheeks, hot like a slap from the reality I’d refused to face. I ran a hand over my face, fingers trembling slightly.“Shit,” I muttered. “I fee
Glass shelves, matte-black drawers, and a line of clothing racks stretched from one end of the room to the other. Filled with suits, shirts, and, oddly, rows of women’s clothes.I pulled open the third drawer, just like he said.And there it was.A pale gray knit sweater, wide-necked and slightly stretched around the collar from too much wear. I took a quiet breath as my fingers brushed the fabric. I knew this sweater.It used to be my emergency jacket when New York suddenly turned cold in Pascha’s penthouse. Back when we were still living together after graduation, before everything turned to rubble. It was the sweater I wore while eating instant ramen at 2 a.m., waiting on the couch for him to get home late from Romanov HQ, watching criminal series he never quite understood.I shut the drawer slowly, my breath trembling in silence. Then I glanced at the clothing rack beside it.Dresses. Blouses. Sweaters. Trousers. Silk pajamas. All… in sizes that, in a way far too strange, fit me e
Morning sunlight slipped through the gap in the thin linen curtains, fluttering gently in the sea breeze.Warm. Soft. Peaceful.Too damn peaceful.My eyes fluttered open, and the first thing my brain registered was the ceiling—too high... and way too unfamiliar.Pascha’s mansion.I froze.My body tensed as I realized the warmth wrapped around my waist from behind wasn’t a blanket. It was an arm.Long. Strong. Bare.Wrapped around me like a gate I couldn’t break through.“Fuck,” I breathed out, almost like a prayer caught in my throat.A long sigh escaped my lips as I tried to piece things together. Didn’t take long. My head throbbed faintly. My neck still felt kissed. My legs still tangled in the mess of last night.Damn it.“Fuck me,” I whispered again.“Already did, Pchelka. More than once.”I jolted and half turned. “Pascha!”His eyes were still closed, face half-buried in the pillow, but a smug smile tugged at his lips.One of his arms was still draped around my waist, pulling me
The cold air brushed against my skin as Pascha pulled the fabric of my T-shirt, which was roughly uncovered until it pooled under my chin. My breath caught. I didn't have time to be embarrassed, let alone protest, because his eyes were already smouldering like a hungry animal spotting prey.“Shit.” His voice was hoarse, guttural like he was choking himself with desire.And then...Heat.His tongue swipes over my nipples in slow motion, too conscious, too deliberate, like he wants to memorize every earthquake he triggers in my body. I squirm, my back arching without realizing it, hands gripping his short hair. Whether to pull him away or to bring him closer, I don't even know."Pascha...” his name came out as a moan, broken by the vibrations he left behind every time his lips sucked, every time his teeth pressed with sweet menace.He growled, the vibrations flowing straight from his mouth to my chest, to my spine, to the rest of my body. His one hand gripped my hip, holding me immobile
Jullian hadn’t even made it fully to his feet when Pascha’s second punch slammed into his face. The sound was thick, flesh meeting bone, followed by Jullian’s groan as he crashed back down into the sand, his hand flying to his cheek, already red and starting to bruise.“Don’t you ever touch her again,” Pascha growled, his chest heaving, and I didn’t recognize this man at all.I threw myself between them, shoving at Pascha’s chest with both hands. But his body was like stone.“Stop! ARE YOU INSANE?!” I screamed, my voice caught somewhere between panic and rage.He didn’t answer. His eyes stayed locked on Jullian, who was now sitting up, propping himself on one arm, breathing hard.“He touched you,” Pascha shouted at me.“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!” I snapped, standing in front of Jullian now. “You don’t get to decide when you’re my son’s father, and when you’re—whatever the hell you think you are!”Pascha finally turned to me.His eyes were burning.I swallowed hard. “You can’t just show up an
I froze.The sea breeze that had felt cool just moments ago now stung my skin like tiny needles. An inheritance?An heir?That... didn’t make any sense. My father was not someone who gave me anything. Not love, not protection, not even a place to return to after everything that happened at St. Sophia. He was the man who sat in the old armchair in our living room with those dark eyes that demanded A+ on every test, the man who raised a wooden ruler with a cold hand because of a single B.The man who, along with his wife—my biological mother—kicked me out of the house with one sentence: You’re a disgrace.And now... five years later, wrapped in a thin blanket under the night sky, hearing that the daughter they once labeled emotionally broken and too stubborn to love, the one they said could never compare to Ben—own everything they once used to crush me.My hands clenched the edge of the blanket. “Isn’t Ben the one managing everything?”Javier nodded . “Yeah. He handles the operations.
“Mommy!” Max appeared, hugging Megatron. The new robot Pascha sent this morning. The toy was as tall as Max’s knees.His face lit up when he saw me. But then his eyes shifted to Javier standing next to me, and his expression changed to something… suspicious.He tilted his head. Scanned Javier from head to toe. “Who are you?” Javier, who had been laughing in the car earlier over baby Max stories, froze for a second, then glanced at me. “Max?”I nodded slowly. “Yeah. This is Max.”Javier stared at Max for a moment longer, “Dios mío. He’s... he’s a carbon copy of Pascha. God, Bell, even the way he stands with that sideways lean... that’s so Pascha.”“I know.”“He even has the signature Romanov eyebrow lift,” he muttered.Meanwhile, Max hugged Megatron tighter, then stepped forward. “Are you... Mommy’s new husband?”I choked on my breath. “Maximus Prime!” I gave him a sharp look. “Don’t say stuff like that!”Max just shrugged. “I’m analyzing. Not saying stuff.”Javier burst out laughing.