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CXXXIX: : Sunflowers Still Turn to You [Flashback}
Last Updated:
2025-03-31 05:20:06
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That night, the aroma of grilled meat filled Grandpa and Grandma’s kitchen. Miranda was busy stirring the black bean sauce while I helped slice avocados for the salad. Aunt Herna was grating cheese, occasionally humming an old song from the vintage radio in the corner. “I bet Pascha would love this dish,” Miranda teased with a mischievous tone. I shot her a sharp look, but she just laughed. “You know, if Pascha knew you were here cooking, he’d probably cross the ocean just to join us for dinner.” I let out a long sigh, putting the avocado pieces into the bowl. “He’s busy with his project. Besides... it’s a family holiday, Mira.” Miranda gave me a sly smile. “Are you sure that’s the reason? Or are you just trying to take a break from dating that genius Harvard captain of the hockey team?” I tossed a kitchen towel at her, but Miranda easily dodged it. “Belva, sweetheart, could you grab the salt from the top cabinet?” Aunt Herna asked while arranging the plates. I walked to the cab
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After a while, the sound of a motorcycle engine could be heard from outside. Miranda peeked out the kitchen window and grinned. “That must be handsome Ben. I don’t know why you don’t bring him here more often.” I just shook my head slightly, a small smile on my face. Moments later, the front door opened, and Ben walked in with his signature leather jacket. His hair was slightly tousled by the wind. “Hey!” Ben greeted, taking off his jacket and hanging it behind the door. “You made it,” Uncle Diego said, giving him a proud pat on the back. “I wouldn’t miss Aunt Herna’s cooking,” Ben replied with a wide smile. He glanced at me and ruffled my hair. “Hey, smart girl. You haven’t changed.” I snorted and swatted his hand away. “Coming in all heroic again?” Ben just shrugged nonchalantly. “Of course. I’m always cool.” When Aunt Herna asked us to set the table, Ben immediately took charge of carrying the large platter of roasted meat. Miranda scoffed, eyeing his arms. “Showing off your
Last Updated : 2025-03-31His Son, Her Secret CXLII : Chasing Me, Catching Me, Keeping Me [Flashback]
The atmosphere at Logan Airport in Boston was filled with the typical holiday rush. The high glass ceiling reflected the afternoon sun, casting a golden glow on the polished marble floors. I dragged my heavy suitcase behind me, letting out a long sigh. Coming back early from my summer vacation had been a sudden decision, but the pressure and constant supervision at home in Bogota—especially from Dad—made me feel like I needed as much distance as possible.Even though returning early felt strange, warmth spread through me when I saw the tall, broad-shouldered figure standing near the arrival area. His dark hair was a bit messy, his black leather jacket clung to his athletic frame, paired with dark jeans and rugged boots, giving off an irresistible mix of charm and danger. His sunglasses sat casually on his nose, but the playful smirk on his lips told me exactly who it was.Pascha Romanov, the guy who could make my heart race and give me a headache at the same time.Before I could say a
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As soon as the car stopped in front of my flat, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I practically jumped out before Pascha even turned off the engine, dragging my suitcase to the front door. "I missed my bed!" I yelled enthusiastically. Behind me, Pascha just scoffed, grabbing his jacket and following me with a lazy stride. "Of course," he muttered. "I’m the one you see first after we apart, but the thing you missed most is your bed. Annoying." I ignored him. After punching in the door code and pushing it open, I rushed inside, dropped my bag on the floor, and nearly threw myself onto the bed—except Pascha beat me to it. He casually tossed his jacket onto the couch and walked straight to my bed, dropping onto it with a smug, victorious expression. "Pascha, move," I hissed, glaring at him. He looked at me lazily, raising one eyebrow. "No." I groaned in frustration but eventually just flopped onto the bed too, shoving his shoulder to make some space. "Don’t touch me," I muttered when
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"I missed you," he whispered, his deep, raspy voice vibrating the air between us. I bit my lower lip, trying hard not to smile. "Then stop making me mad." "I can’t promise that," he replied with a mischievous smirk before leaning down to gently kiss my forehead. I closed my eyes, letting out a long sigh. Pascha always had this infuriating yet comforting way of making me both angry and at peace at the same time—a combination that was both annoying and heartwarming. The night stretched on, and we kept talking, laughter and complaints blending into a long, seemingly endless conversation. Slowly, my eyelids grew heavy.I inched closer to Pascha, letting his arm wrap around me as his warmth surrounded me in a rare feeling of comfort. :::: For the first time in weeks, I felt genuinely at peace. The morning in Cambridge was chilly, even with the sun hanging low in the sky. Dew still clung to the apartment windows, leaving blurry wet streaks. I stood in my small kitchen, staring at a s
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The sight of the Romanov family's private airport froze me in place. A warm summer breeze brushed against my face, but it was nothing compared to the gleaming private jet shining under the sun. The jet's sleek black paint bore the Romanov family emblem on the tail—an elegant symbol with gold accents that screamed power and luxury."Wow," I whispered, probably for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. My eyes couldn't tear away from every detail of the jet, the aerodynamic lines, the dominating grandeur, and the bold, graceful lettering of the family name etched on the side.Standing beside me with his hands casually tucked into his black pants pockets, Pascha let out an amused snort at my repeated reaction."It's just a plane, Bee," he said nonchalantly, as if the magnificent thing was just a toy.I glanced at him, giving him a pointed look. "Just a plane?" I echoed in disbelief. "It's bigger than my apartment!"He shrugged without a hint of guilt. "You haven't seen the inside yet."
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In front of the massive entrance, with towering marble pillars, stood two figures who immediately captured my attention. A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair that was starting to gray at the temples, his face stern with sharp, chiseled lines.My chest and throat tightened instantly. Pascha’s parents. Alexandr Romanov and Natalia Romanova.Their names carried a weight of history, almost legendary in the realms of international business and politics. Just one glance at them, and I could feel the power and dominance radiating from their composed presence. A sudden wave of tension washed over me, and I found myself clutching the hem of my skirt.“Relax,” Pascha whispered beside me, his large hand reaching out to pat my thigh reassuringly. “They’re not as bad as you think.”I shot him a suspicious look. “Not as bad?” I echoed quietly. “Did you forget all those stories about their strict discipline and rigid rules?”Pascha shrugged nonchalantly. “They’re softer when it comes to guest
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Lunch at the Romanov household felt more like a grand family feast than just an ordinary meal. The long dining table was covered with mouth-watering dishes—thick black bread with butter, deep purple-red borscht, salads with diced beets and potatoes, and large platters of roasted meat, their savory aroma filling the room. Everything was arranged neatly on a spotless white tablecloth, with crystal glasses gleaming under the luxurious chandelier.I sat next to Pascha, who looked more relaxed than usual, while Igor sat across from me, chewing his food with the focus of a soldier on a covert mission. At the head of the table sat Alexandr, moving his fork with graceful precision, observing the scene with sharp yet affectionate eyes. Natalia was beside him, her slender fingers delicately stirring her soup as she smiled softly.However, the peaceful lunch almost immediately unraveled when Trisha started talking.“I’m telling you, we have to go to the Riviera! Beaches, cocktails, yacht parties
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Night descended quickly over Siberia, bringing with it the creeping cold. The night wind struck the wooden walls of the cabin, rustling and whispering in a low, soothing tone. The fire in the hearth still burned, its flames dancing in golden-orange shadows across the rough wooden walls.I lay on the rough yet surprisingly soft wooden cot, a thick blanket wrapped tightly around me. Trisha lay next to me, curled up with her face hidden beneath the covers. Her breathing had evened out, signaling that she had fallen into a deep sleep after today’s long journey.But I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the sound of the wind howling outside or perhaps it was the swirl of thoughts racing through my mind. I glanced toward Pascha and Igor, who were sitting on the other side of the room. They were near the hearth, which was slowly dying down, talking in low tones that I could only partly make out. Their Russian flowed quickly and smoothly, sounding more like murmurs than distinct words.Pascha turned
His Son, Her Secret CL : Beneath the Pines, Beneath His Gaze [Flashback]
The sky was starting to darken as we walked back to the cabin. The Siberian night air pierced our skin, even though the sun hadn't fully set yet. Trisha and I walked side by side, a bit behind Pascha and Igor, who were leading the way with their long strides.Trisha slipped her hand into my arm, trying to warm herself. "You know, I'm kind of jealous of you," she muttered suddenly.I turned to her, frowning. "Jealous? Jealous about what?"She shrugged, her eyes still fixed on her brother ahead of us. "Pascha loves you in a way that's... hard to explain. It's like the world stops when he's with you."I looked away, trying to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. "I know he loves me, but... the future is unpredictable, right?"Trisha laughed softly, her voice like a gentle breeze slipping through the pine trees. "That's true. But I know Pascha. He'll never love anyone the way he loves you. He might be a little annoying and clingy, but trust me, he won't just let you go."I bit my lip, tr
His Son, Her Secret CXLIX : Wildflowers & Wilderness Hearts [Flashback]
Igor walked ahead with a light step, as if he didn’t feel the weight at all, while I, Pascha, and Trisha followed behind, gasping for breath. The trail was rocky and slippery, with tree roots jutting out from the ground. Towering pine trees lined both sides, their shadows stretching under the afternoon sun.“I... hate... you... Igor...” Trisha panted, dragging her feet, clearly exhausted.Pascha raised an eyebrow, glancing at his brother. “Are you sure this is the right trail? We’ve been walking for over an hour!”Igor just looked back with a half-mocking smile. “You’re too spoiled. This is the easiest route.”I wiped the sweat from my forehead and took a deep breath. “The easiest route? Are you serious?”Suddenly, the rumble of a helicopter sounded above. I looked up and saw a sleek black helicopter flying low, following the trail. The window was open, and I could see Natalia waving cheerfully while Alexandr sat comfortably inside, probably enjoying the view from above without having
His Son, Her Secret CXLVIII : Luxury Left Us at the Gate [Flashback]
The Romanov family's private jet was way bigger than I had imagined. The interior felt like a floating penthouse, complete with white leather sofas, thick cream-colored carpets, and large windows offering an endless view of the blue sky. There was a spacious seating area with a polished wooden table and a minibar filled with crystal glasses and high-end liquor bottles.I sat on one of the sofas near the window while Trisha sat beside me, hugging a pillow with a grumpy face. From the other end of the room, I could hear Pascha and Igor’s muffled voices, seemingly arguing about something I couldn't quite grasp."I can't believe we're actually going to Siberia," Trisha grumbled, burying her face in the pillow. "I packed summer clothes, cute dresses, and now we're going to end up in the middle of a forest with wolves and—what was it again? Taiga man?"I chuckled, resisting the urge to tease her more. "You could still wear those dresses in the woods. Maybe the bears would appreciate your fa
His Son, Her Secret CXLVII : Siberian Summers & City-Born Hearts [Flashback]
Lunch at the Romanov household felt more like a grand family feast than just an ordinary meal. The long dining table was covered with mouth-watering dishes—thick black bread with butter, deep purple-red borscht, salads with diced beets and potatoes, and large platters of roasted meat, their savory aroma filling the room. Everything was arranged neatly on a spotless white tablecloth, with crystal glasses gleaming under the luxurious chandelier.I sat next to Pascha, who looked more relaxed than usual, while Igor sat across from me, chewing his food with the focus of a soldier on a covert mission. At the head of the table sat Alexandr, moving his fork with graceful precision, observing the scene with sharp yet affectionate eyes. Natalia was beside him, her slender fingers delicately stirring her soup as she smiled softly.However, the peaceful lunch almost immediately unraveled when Trisha started talking.“I’m telling you, we have to go to the Riviera! Beaches, cocktails, yacht parties
His Son, Her Secret CXLVI : The Scent of Roses, The Sound of Power [Flashback]
In front of the massive entrance, with towering marble pillars, stood two figures who immediately captured my attention. A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair that was starting to gray at the temples, his face stern with sharp, chiseled lines.My chest and throat tightened instantly. Pascha’s parents. Alexandr Romanov and Natalia Romanova.Their names carried a weight of history, almost legendary in the realms of international business and politics. Just one glance at them, and I could feel the power and dominance radiating from their composed presence. A sudden wave of tension washed over me, and I found myself clutching the hem of my skirt.“Relax,” Pascha whispered beside me, his large hand reaching out to pat my thigh reassuringly. “They’re not as bad as you think.”I shot him a suspicious look. “Not as bad?” I echoed quietly. “Did you forget all those stories about their strict discipline and rigid rules?”Pascha shrugged nonchalantly. “They’re softer when it comes to guest
His Son, Her Secret CXLV : He Smirks, The City Glows, & I'm in Too Deep [Flashback]
The sight of the Romanov family's private airport froze me in place. A warm summer breeze brushed against my face, but it was nothing compared to the gleaming private jet shining under the sun. The jet's sleek black paint bore the Romanov family emblem on the tail—an elegant symbol with gold accents that screamed power and luxury."Wow," I whispered, probably for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. My eyes couldn't tear away from every detail of the jet, the aerodynamic lines, the dominating grandeur, and the bold, graceful lettering of the family name etched on the side.Standing beside me with his hands casually tucked into his black pants pockets, Pascha let out an amused snort at my repeated reaction."It's just a plane, Bee," he said nonchalantly, as if the magnificent thing was just a toy.I glanced at him, giving him a pointed look. "Just a plane?" I echoed in disbelief. "It's bigger than my apartment!"He shrugged without a hint of guilt. "You haven't seen the inside yet."
His Son, Her Secret CXLIV : Moscow Sounds Like Trouble (So Do You) [Flashback]
"I missed you," he whispered, his deep, raspy voice vibrating the air between us. I bit my lower lip, trying hard not to smile. "Then stop making me mad." "I can’t promise that," he replied with a mischievous smirk before leaning down to gently kiss my forehead. I closed my eyes, letting out a long sigh. Pascha always had this infuriating yet comforting way of making me both angry and at peace at the same time—a combination that was both annoying and heartwarming. The night stretched on, and we kept talking, laughter and complaints blending into a long, seemingly endless conversation. Slowly, my eyelids grew heavy.I inched closer to Pascha, letting his arm wrap around me as his warmth surrounded me in a rare feeling of comfort. :::: For the first time in weeks, I felt genuinely at peace. The morning in Cambridge was chilly, even with the sun hanging low in the sky. Dew still clung to the apartment windows, leaving blurry wet streaks. I stood in my small kitchen, staring at a s
His Son, Her Secret CXLIII : Tamed? In Your Dreams, Darling
As soon as the car stopped in front of my flat, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I practically jumped out before Pascha even turned off the engine, dragging my suitcase to the front door. "I missed my bed!" I yelled enthusiastically. Behind me, Pascha just scoffed, grabbing his jacket and following me with a lazy stride. "Of course," he muttered. "I’m the one you see first after we apart, but the thing you missed most is your bed. Annoying." I ignored him. After punching in the door code and pushing it open, I rushed inside, dropped my bag on the floor, and nearly threw myself onto the bed—except Pascha beat me to it. He casually tossed his jacket onto the couch and walked straight to my bed, dropping onto it with a smug, victorious expression. "Pascha, move," I hissed, glaring at him. He looked at me lazily, raising one eyebrow. "No." I groaned in frustration but eventually just flopped onto the bed too, shoving his shoulder to make some space. "Don’t touch me," I muttered when
