WARNING! This is the previous chapter that has been edited.
"Clara," I called, turning to the woman still standing by the car with a smile. "Let's go inside. Let's get dinner ready before things get any crazier."Clara chuckled. "Yes, Mrs. Romanov," she said playfully, following me.I gave her a sharp glare, and she giggled amusedly before entering the house.As soon as the door closed, the familiar scent of the house greeted me. I took off my shoes lazily, walking into the kitchen while Clara headed straight for the fridge."What do you want to cook for dinner?" she asked as she opened the fridge door, peering thoughtfully at the contents."Spaghetti?" I suggested as I tied my hair up. "It's simple and quick. And you know he never turns down pasta."Clara nodded as she pulled out some ingredients from the fridge. "Sounds good. You just rest first. I can take care of this.""I can't rest before—"My phone on the dining table vibrated. The screen lit up with a name that instantly made my body tense: Ben.I grabbed the phone with mixed feelings,
After finishing my work, I headed to Max's room. The door was slightly ajar, and I could see Pascha sitting in a chair beside Max's bed. Max was curled under his blanket, his half-closed eyes still staring at his Daddy."Daddy," Max mumbled in a sleepy voice. "Don't go, okay? Sleep with me."I entered the room, leaning against the door with my arms crossed. "Your Daddy has his own house next door. He can't stay here."Max opened his eyes wider, looking at me with pouty lips. "But I want Daddy here. If he leaves, who's going to tell me about Superman before bed?"I looked at him sharply, trying to look stern even though my little heart was melting at his expression. "He can't stay here every day.""Please, Mommy!" Max whined.Pascha turned to me with an almost triumphant smile. "What about that, Bee? Do you have the heart to disappoint our son?"I glared at him, then looked back at Max. "Max, your dad has his own house."Max shook his head so hard that the blanket almost fell off. "I wa
My breath was getting shorter, and I didn't care. I lost myself in that familiar feeling, it kept me spinning in a drunken stupor.He pulled me up, bringing me onto his lap. The circle of my hands around his neck tightens.His lips move gently but claimingly, overpowering all my slowly fading logic. The touch of his hands on my waist and the way he pulled me closer to his body made me feel like I was drowning in a storm that I couldn't stop.I don't know how this happened, but in his lap, the world felt so small, so tight. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, following the rhythm of his deep breathing. His fingers traced my back slowly, creating a searing flow throughout my body.The sound of the waves lapping in the distance and the cool coastal breeze almost disappeared, replaced by his dominance and kisses that paralyzed my sanity.And then, in between, there was something faint, like a whisper in the corner of my mind.A slight sway began to appear, shaking the already fragile footing.
Max sat in his chair with a small plate of nuggets, his hands busy dipping into the sauce as he hummed happily."So, Bell," Aurora began in a soft voice. "You said there was nothing between you and Pascha. I remember you once saying you wanted him to stay away. And now, you're letting him be Max's father. How do you explain that?"I let out a sigh. "It's not something that's easy to explain. I did it for Max. He needs his father. I can't keep avoiding Pascha, especially if it means depriving Max of a father figure."Kyara cut in immediately. "Isn't that too dramatic?""It's about Max, Ky."Aurora smiled a little. She grabbed a small note her pocket and started jotting something down seriously.I looked at her in confusion. "What are you doing?""Observation notes," Aurora replied without turning around. "It's part of my job as a psychologist. I'm trying to understand your thought patterns. You say it's for Max, but there's another emotional tone whenever you heard Pascha's name."A sa
I stood before my bedroom mirror, staring at my reflection uneasily. Trembling hands fixed my simple pale blue dress while my mind spun endlessly. My hair, which I usually let down, was tied up in a neat bun this time, but somehow, I felt it still wasn't enough.Since the incident five years ago, this wasn't the first time I had met Pascha's parents. I can still vividly remember my meeting with his mother in that fancy restaurant, and she was so kind and accepting of all my decisions five years ago.But this time was different. I met them as the mother of their grandson. Max. One fact that makes my throat dry up every time I think about it.What if they didn't accept Max? Or worse, what if they accepted him too well and tried to take him away from me?I clenched my fists, feeling my chest grow heavy with anxiety.A slight knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. Before I could say, come in, Pascha had already stepped in, wearing a black sweater that clung perfectly to his body, pair
The luxurious restaurant, with its glittering crystal chandelier, was filled with a warm atmosphere from the conversations of the guests. I stepped inside, following Pascha, who was still carrying Max in his arms, and Max hugging his Superman doll.My heart was beating faster than usual, but I tried to stay calm, even though this wasn't the first meeting with Romanov family.Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Natalia Romanova, Pascha's mother, standing up from her chair at the large table in the corner. She wore an elegant dark green dress, her neat blonde hair tied back."Belva," she greeted me in a warm voice. Before I could say anything, she grabbed me into a gentle hug. "It's so good to see you again."I froze for a moment before awkwardly returning her hug.She slipped away from our embrace but she didn't let go of her embrace in both my hands. She looked at me softly. "Why didn't you tell me about my grandson when we were at the restaurant that time... Belva?"I swallowed, my th
Fancy food was served: foie-gras, grilled lobster, and other dishes whose names I couldn't even pronounce. But everyone's attention at the table was not on the food but on Max, who was sitting comfortably on Pascha's lap."So, Max," Igor broke the silence with a big smile, "what do you like most about San Francisco and living on the beach?"Max turned to Igor, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I love the beach! Mommy, I and Aunt Clara always play at the beach, and I love looking for shells."I tried to smile, although it felt strange to hear him speak so confidently in front of the Romanovs.Igor chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. "The beach, huh? You should try coming to Moscow in winter. There's snow, ice, and you can skiing."Max frowned, then shrugged dramatically. "I know about snow from movies. But skiing seems hard. I prefer surfing!"I almost choked on my breath. Where did he learn to talk like that? Before I could say anything, Trisha chuckled from the right side of the t
Dinner finally ended, with the conversation slowing down and the atmosphere getting quieter. The candle in the center of the table was almost gone, leaving a soft glow illuminating the room. Max, whose energy seemed endless throughout the night, now looked sleepy. He yawned widely while hugging his Superman doll tightly."Are you tired, Max?" asked Alexandr, looking at Max with a warm smile.Max just nodded, his eyes half closed. "I'm sleepy," he murmured.Gently, Aleksandr took Max's tiny body from Pascha's arms. Max didn't protest, resting his head comfortably on his grandfather's shoulder. Aleksandr gently patted Max's back, letting the boy drift off."He's a wonderful boy," Aleksandr said, looking at me. "You've done a great job, Belva. Thank you and I’m sorry for everything.""You don't have to apologize," I said finally, my voice softer than I wanted it to be. "What happened five years ago... that's in the past."He gave a slight nod, but his eyes remained on me. "Even so, as a
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