Kyara lowered her coffee cup loudly onto a small saucer, making a clinking sound that attracted the attention of several guests at the following table.Her eyes widened, her gaze lingering on my face. "I hope this is a joke,"Aurora leaned closer to me, "Belly, you know how they treat you. Why would you even consider going to that party?"I leaned back into the chair, my hand holding the glass of tea I hadn't touched. "I have no choice. Grandpa gave me an ultimatum, and I knew if I didn't go, I'd be putting Max in danger. They... they threatened to bring his name to the Romanov family.""Of course, they'll use Max to force you. Typical of a family that only cares about their big name. They haven't changed a bit." Kyara snorted.Aurora touched my arm. "Is everything okay? What happened there?"I looked down, letting the memory of the party invade my mind. "Well, they had a lot of questions and were, obviously, surprised by Max. Papa and Mama barely spoke to me, they’re.... still very co
I arrived at the office precisely fifteen minutes before the meeting with Lantum Mining. My heart pounded like a war drum in my chest. I piled all the files on my desk, trying to focus on the presentation slides that I had prepared overnight"Focus, Belva. Don't mess it up," I whisper to myself, wiping my damp palms on the sides of my work skirt.A knock on the door startled me. Jess, Mr. Grant's assistant, stood up with a faint smile. "Mr. Grant asks you to get ready. Ten minutes."I nodded, my mouth too dry to reply. While she left, my eyes stared at my reflection on the dead computer screen. My face was tense, and the tired lines under my eyes couldn't lie.I straightened my blazer, grabbed the presentation file, and walked briskly to the meeting room. My heels press against the marble floor with a tick-tock sound that sneaks up to my heart.The main meeting room with glass walls that almost wholly overlooked the city of San Francisco was already partially filled with participants.
“Miss Moguel?” The voice of the man who had been asking about technical constraints broke the ice that was choking me. “Can you explain more about risk mitigation in this implementation?”I tried to concentrate. My lips trembled slightly when I opened my mouth, but no sound came at first. It felt like this whole room was shrinking, the sound of Pascha's faint laughter echoing in my mind, even though he hadn't said anything.Mr. Grant turned to me, his eyebrows raised in slight concern. “Belva, please.”"I’m sorry." I nodded quickly, forcing myself to stand up straight again.I stared blankly at the screen for a few seconds, taking a deep breath before pressing the remote to display the next slide.“As I explained earlier,” I began, but the scratchy feeling in my throat made the voice hoarse. I closed my mouth for a moment and took another breath. “Our team has considered various risks in implementing this technology. In the event of operational disruptions, such as data inaccuracies or
“But isn't it...” He continued, folding his arms across his chest, “A team like that needs a leader who is not only smart but also... strong under pressure?”The whole room was silent, and I knew he wasn't just asking. He wanted to test me, to see if I was still the girl who had left him at the altar five years ago and whether I could still stand up under his pressure.I knew how Pascha always played with the people around him. Testing and testing. It was like he was the master of every game, while everything around him was just a pawn.And this time, I was the pawn.“Of course,” I replied, forcing a slight smile that didn't fully reach my eyes. “Pressure is part of the job, and I'm used to dealing with it.” I let the words hang, gauging his reaction.Pascha didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair. His cold eyes looked at me, then slowly toward the documents on the table before him. He held up one piece of paper, twirling the end between his fingers.“Interesting
“Belva!”I turned my head sharply, my hand raised on its own.A hard slap landed on his face before I could think.Pascha stood still for a moment, his hand still gripping my arm. He touched his cheek with his free hand, then, instead of anger, he chuckled—low, deep, provoking. But his gaze was piercing, like he was trying to strip away every wall I'd built over the past five years.I held my breath, trying to break free from his grasp.“So many things have changed, Bee?” he said, a lopsided smile gracing his face. “Five years ago, you were just running. On the night three days ago you were still moaning my name. Now? You slapped me. I like this new version.”My blood boiled. I jerked at his hand, forcing myself to stand straight even though my body shook angrily. “You don't know anything about me, Pascha.”“Oh, I know a lot,” he retorted casually, but his eyes blazed with provocation. “I know the girl who stood at the altar five years ago didn't dare to say what she thought. But now..
I sat on a cane chair on the balcony, looking at the coastline. The midday sun reflected golden sparkles on the waves rolling gently towards the sand. The cool coastal breeze blew through my hair, but I still felt like I was burning—not by the sun's heat, but by the thoughts that hadn't stopped tearing at my composure since this morning's meeting.In front of me, Max sat in his little chair, a spoon in his tiny hands, busily digging into the lasagna on his plate. His round cheeks moved as he chewed enthusiastically, his little legs dangling over the edge of the chair. Every time he looked at me, he smiled widely, like there was no sinner in the world."Mommy, the lasagna is so good!" he said happily, jolting me out of the dark vortex of thoughts shackling me.I forced myself to smile. "Really? Mommy made it, especially for you, Max. If you like it, I will be so happy."He nodded vigorously, his spoon back in action. I watched him eat, trying to hold on to the fact that he was the reaso
Max chuckled as Clara lifted him high, making a rattling sound like a robot. The little boy giggled loudly, his hands flapping like a bird learning to fly.I sat on the sofa, laptop on my lap, typing up the report due this week. Their laughter filled the house, forming an atmosphere that made me feel all was well."Mommy, look, I'm a robot Superman!" Max shouts, striking a strange pose: one arm stretched out like he's flying while the other grips his robot toy tightly.“You'd make a great superhero, Maxie.” I laughed, looking at him. I glanced over at them, seeing Clara teasing Max under the pretense of going after him.Clara was an irreplaceable presence in this house. She knew how to make Max happy and fill the void I couldn't constantly fill, especially when I was drowning at work or caught up in messy feelings like now."You really saved my life, Cece." I said, half-joking while typing the last line of my report."Ah, you know I'm glad to be here. Max is a wonderful boy. How could
This guy wasn't an asshole in the same way as Pascha. That was one thing I could admit without hesitation.Julian might be too conscious of his image but doesn't hide his weapons. Everything he did was open and obvious, unlike the other guy who still haunted me with that cold smile and game that always made me feel trapped.Inside, the atmosphere was luxurious. The Roles family had truly mastered the art of impressing their guests. A large crystal chandelier hung in the hall's center, and the scent of expensive wine and classical music's soft sounds filled the air.We didn't have to search for our hosts for long. The Roles—husband and wife, who looked more like living porcelain figurines, immediately greeted us with broad, overly friendly smiles."Belva Moguel!" exclaimed Mrs. Roles enthusiastically, grabbing both my hands. "It's been a long time. You were just a little girl the last time I saw you."I smiled slightly, trying to remain polite. "Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Roles. Yo
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
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
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
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
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
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
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."
"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
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