Chapter 11

Chapter

Eleven

"Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen."

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Alexsei

"You need to ease up on the stalking. It's starting to freak me out."

I scoffed and dragged a chair over, plopping down with a smirk. "I thought I'd already got you scared, baby."

The library was deserted on this Tuesday night, just shy of 8 p.m. She sat alone, engrossed in three magazines sprawled out in front of her. For the past half hour, she'd been flipping through them, jotting down notes every now and then. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore a matching set of black leggings and a hoodie. Occasionally, she'd tug on her ponytail while studying the pictures, her striking green eyes glowing even brighter against her dark clothes.

She was fucking stunning—so stunning, I almost wanted to drag her by that ponytail, caveman-style, straight to my place.

"You don't scare me, you just annoy me, Romaniev."

"Ouch," I said, pretending to be hurt as I clutched my chest. "And here I thought we were making some progress."

A smile graced her lips, revealing a dimple on her right cheek. "What brings you here? Decided to finally fill that empty brain of yours?"

"I doubt that'll help me—or anyone," I retorted, pointing to a black-and-white picture in the magazine before her. It depicted a naked man, hiding his penis with his hands, while red-painted hands covered his body.

"Of course, you wouldn't get it," she remarked, holding the magazine closer to my face. "This is art—a representation of unwanted hands reaching for intimate parts."

I grabbed the magazine. "And here I thought it was just a dude embarrassed about his micro-penis."

She chuckled while gathering her notes and magazines into her bag. "Guess that's something you two might have in common."

Leaning forward, I rested both hands on the table between us, tilting my head slightly. "Maybe you're curious to find out."

Her gaze traced from my hands to my lips before meeting my eyes. "No, I'm not."

"Never say never, Caia."

She zipped up her bag, letting her hair cascade down from its ponytail, and donned her long black furry coat. "What brings you here, Romaniev? Don't you have better things to do than lurk around an empty library?"

I followed her, quickly stepping forward to open the door.

Despite the roll of her eyes, a faint blush tinted the top of her cheeks.

"I came to take you out to dinner, Caia," I said, lying through my teeth to mask the awkwardness of why I was really here on a random Tuesday night.

Truth is, I was here for one reason only: I just couldn't resist seeing her face again.

"I'm not hungry—" she began, but I stepped in front of her, cutting her off.

"That wasn't a question."

She hesitated, clearly torn between resisting and giving in. The air crackled with tension, and I could see her weighing her options.

Finally, with a resigned sigh and a deeper blush, she met my gaze again. "Fine, but I don't eat meat."

I nodded and gestured for her to follow me to my car. I opened the door for her, making sure she was comfortable and that her coat was out of the way before closing it with a click.

Good job, Alexsei, now you gotta find a fucking restaurant .

However, a better idea struck me.

As I settled into my seat, I noticed that Caia seemed preoccupied, her gaze fixed outside the window.

"No work tonight?" I asked, trying to break the silence.

She turned to me with a smile playing on her lips. A smile so sweet it made me want to devour it. "Homework, actually. I've got a photography assignment due in a week." Photography?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's what I'm studying. I need to capture two black-and-white photos that reveal something about myself," she explained, her voice carrying a hint of excitement. "It's all about conveying depth through images. "

"Sounds like hell of a project."

"Yeah… But I'm struggling to find the right subjects," she admitted, a note of frustration creeping in.

I smirked. "Maybe I can help with that."

I knew more about guns than cameras, but if it got me more time with her, I wasn't complaining. The quicker she let me in, the quicker she'd end up in my bed.

She shot me a skeptical look. "Oh yeah? And how exactly?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know—maybe you could point the lens at something worth looking at for once. Use me as your subject. I doubt you're gonna find anything better."

She scoffed, her eyes glinting. "And how would a selfie of yours reveal anything about me?"

"Well, it could show your professor someone you fancy."

"Fancy, huh?"

I leaned in slightly. "Your choice: this, or a picture of my dick. Both would definitely make an impression."

Caia chuckled and shook her head. "I don't think my professor would exactly appreciate... that," she said, gesturing up and down at me. "And just to be clear, I'm not interested in you or your tiny penis, Romaniev. I thought I made that pretty obvious."

I smirked. It was like she was saying the word penis for the first time.

Call me whatever you want, but her sharp tongue and biting remarks felt like dirty talk to me. I've always had a weakness for a smart-ass who doesn't give a damn about me—it makes the chase so much more deliciously worth it.

Firing up the engine, I drove through the city.

We both stayed silent, but I could feel her eyes darting between me and my hands on the wheel. Every time our eyes almost locked, she'd quickly look away.

When we finally rolled up to our destination, I pulled out the little black remote from my pocket to pop open the parking lot door. After sliding my matte black BMW into place beside its white twin, I got out and casually strolled over to her side.

There she was, sitting with her legs crossed and hands resting on top, her emerald eyes glinting like they were daring me to make her move.

She didn't say a word.

"Come on."

She narrowed her eyes. "Where the hell are we?"

"My place," I replied, nonchalant.

She scoffed, crossing her arms with a glare sharp enough to cut. "I don't know what twisted fantasy you're living in, but I'm not one of your easy lays. There's no way in hell I'm stepping foot in your arrogant little man cave, Romaniev."

My eyes drifted over her face, soaking in those high cheekbones and full, rosy lips. That tiny beauty mark just below her lower lip was practically begging to be noticed. Her brows were furrowed in a fierce frown, and, fuck, she looked even hotter when she's pissed off. It was driving me crazy, how her anger made her even more irresistible.

It fucking annoyed me how much I couldn't look away.

"It's just dinner, Caia. Relax, I'm not asking you to strip naked—though, I wouldn't exactly complain," I winked.

She shot me a dark glare. "Just dinner? Oh please, like I haven't heard that line a million times. Take me home, Romaniev."

I leaned in with a smirk. "How about we make a deal?"

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "What kind of deal?"

"I'll make us dinner—a steak with potatoes," I offered. "And if you don't like it, I'll drive you straight home. Deal?"

She arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. "I told you, I don't eat meat. It makes me feel awful. You've got the memory of a sieve, don't you? "

I cupped her chin, my fingers lingering on her skin. "Trust me, I doubt I'll ever forget anything about you, Caia."

For a few intense seconds, the air between us seemed to hum with a dark energy. Her eyes locked with mine, and I felt a spark of something fierce and dangerous.

Something sinful.

She let out a breath. "Romaniev?—"

I pulled my hand away. "Salmon it is, then. Let's go before I end up dragging you out of this car like a fucking caveman."

She sighed, defeated but intrigued. "Fine, but it better be the best salmon I've ever had."

"Challenge accepted, princess."

She stepped out of the car, and as she closed the door behind her, I grabbed her bag and slung it over my shoulder.

With a wink, I led the way to my place.

I carefully reached for two sleek plates, laying a bed of rice beside the perfectly cooked salmon. With precision, I dolloped generous scoops of my special honey-mustard sauce atop the salmon, then garnished it delicately with fresh dill.

Balancing the plates, I brought them over to the table.

From the hallway, Caia emerged, a sly smile playing on her lips. She took in the almost barren interior with a mix of exaggerated curiosity and mock horror.

"Your place is quite..." She paused, as if struggling to find the right words for this minimalist masterpiece. "...sterile. Like a museum for people who hate color."

Taking in the space, my gaze swept across the living room framed by large windows showcasing the cityscape and snowy streets. A massive beige couch faced the TV, a sleek white kitchen sat nearby, and a wooden dining table was topped by a stunning chandelier. It was bare, lacking personal touches, but that emptiness was exactly what I craved—it kept my mind uncluttered, serene.

I gestured for her to join me. "I rarely spend time here."

Pulling out the chair, I indicated for her to take a seat, and she did so graciously, offering a soft thank-you.

When she entered my place earlier, she gasped when her eyes landed on the chandelier and asked me how much it was worth. To be honest, I had no fucking clue, so I just shrugged. Then I started cooking, allowing her to wander around and absorb the space.

"Why?"

I lifted my glass to my lips—just water, because apparently, I'm a saint tonight. I needed to stay sharp around her; couldn't afford to let things get messy. The last thing I wanted was to confuse what I wanted with what I was ready to risk.

So, as much as I'd rather be drowning in something stronger, I settled for water.

"I prefer the condos near the office," I said, taking a bite of the salmon and savoring the taste. "You know, closer to work and all that."

She glanced around the room with a half-smile, crossing her arms. "That's a shame. It's actually a pretty nice place."

I met her gaze while chewing, noticing how her eyes caught the light from the chandelier. There was a flicker of something in them—something more than just curiosity.

Her eyes darted briefly to the plate and then back to me.

I fucking knew it.

Her eyes truly were a portal to her soul.

"I haven't poisoned your meal, Caia. Eat."

Her eyes widened for a moment, clearly surprised I'd noticed her hesitation. She cleared her throat, relaxed her crossed arms, and brought the fork to her lips. After a quick blow to cool the food, she took a deliberate bite. A soft moan escaped her as her eyes closed in satisfaction.

"Impressed?"

"How the hell did you learn to cook like that?"

"You want the truth, or should I make something up?" I took a sip of water.

A mischievous grin spread across her face. "Definitely the made-up one."

"It was my mama's favorite dish."

When I was younger, I used to play the whole "tragic past" card to lure girls to my arms with tales of my screwed-up childhood and all the drama. Nowadays, it's as simple as a smile and a glance, and before I know it, they're fucking naked, legs spread waiting for me in the most gruesome places.

She raised an eyebrow. "And the real one?"

"Well, the truth is, I once heard that the key to a girl's heart is through her stomach. So, as a teenager, I spent more time watching Gordon Ramsay cook than I did studying for school."

She laughed softly and continued eating, her movements fluid and relaxed.

Good, my strategy was kicking in.

I sank back into my chair, my eyes locked onto her with a kind of fascination. Every detail was etched into my mind: the flush of her cheeks, the delicate sweep of her lashes, the way her full lips moved with each bite. She looked so effortlessly captivating that I couldn't tear my eyes away once again.

"You don't seem too rattled being in the house of a killer."

She leaned back in her chair, her gaze steady and unfazed as she dabbed at her lips with a tissue. "Oh, please. Living among monsters is just my everyday reality."

I tilted my head, intrigued. "Why aren't you married, Caia?"

She coughed, spitting out her water in surprise, clearly caught off guard by my question and the abrupt change in topic. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of mess she might have been involved in or who else she might have tangled with besides me. But damn, in our twisted little world, a girl like her would probably be married off and juggling her third kid by now.

She swallowed. "What?"

As she attempted to cut into the salmon, her knife clattered loudly against the plate, making her wince. Her gaze shifted from the plate to me, tension crackling in the space between us.

I could practically see the little devil on her shoulder, all red and fuming, whispering to her to drive her knife right into my throat for having the audacity to ask such a question. It was like she was wrestling with the urge to either laugh it off or rip me to shreds for being so nosy.

"Don't get me wrong. In this world, a beautiful girl like you can only be one of two things: a wife or?—"

" A whore ?" She cut me off, her voice slicing through the air like a blade. She slammed her cutlery down with a sharp clatter, her eyes blazing with a fiery rage. Her chest heaved with anger, and it was clear that the little devil on her shoulder had grown into a full-blown menace, ready to explode. "I'm neither, Romaniev. I'm just a girl trying to… survive. Why is that so damn hard for your pathetic brain to get?"

I leaned in, lowering my voice to a deliberate whisper. "Let's cut the crap, Caia. If your papa hasn't married you off yet, it's pretty clear he's got other plans."

Her gaze turned to ice. "You think you've got the right to judge me? To make all these disgusting assumptions about my life? You of all people? "

I could almost feel the chill of her stare, like she'd freeze me in place if she could.

She was fucking right.

Who the hell was I to judge her when my own life was a goddamn cesspool of darkness, sins, and evil? But I couldn't resist firing a shot at her, aiming straight for her ego and hitting the mark.

I shrugged a shoulder. "I don't need to guess, sweetheart. Just looking at your Papa tells me all I need to know."

Without warning, she shoved her plate aside with a harsh scrape, her ponytail swinging as she leapt to her feet. The little devil on her shoulder seemed to flip me off, matching the fury in her eyes. She yanked on her coat and stormed toward the door.

Fuck! I don't know why I fucking said that.

I rushed after her, my breath searing her neck as I caught up just as her fingers touched the doorknob. My hand wrapped around hers, yanking her back. I spun her around and pressed her against the door, her breath escaping in a soft gasp. I pinned her hands above her head, my grip firm and unrelenting.

Anger flushed her neck and cheeks as she tried to fight me off, but I stayed calm, pressing myself closer, her chest touching me and tightening my hold on her wrists.

"Let me go."

Her heartbeat thudded rapidly against the delicate skin of her wrists, and it struck me how vulnerable she was pressed against me—so light, I could shatter her with a single touch. The thought tightened in my throat, and the image of her lifeless form on the floor was disturbingly vivid.

" Nyet. "

She gritted her teeth. "Let me go, Romaniev."

"Caia— "

A flash of raw hatred sparked in her eyes. "I shouldn't have come here."

I held her gaze, my hands gently gliding down her arms. "I'm glad you did."

Her mouth parted slightly as her arms fell to her sides, my hands sliding from her shoulders, tracing her waist before settling on her hips. "Stop insulting me."

"I'm not insulting you. I'm just furious that Mankiev is your father."

That bastard didn't deserve a daughter as beautiful and fiery as her.

"Why? You don't even know him that well," she protested softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

I traced a finger gently along her jawline, leaning in until our faces were inches apart. "I know enough."

"Stop talking about him," she breathed out, her warm breath mingling with mine.

"Then come finish your dinner."

She shut her eyes, shaking her head slightly. "I want to go home."

"I'll get you home later."

"No, now," she breathed urgently.

I took her hand and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the top of it. "I promise to be nice," I murmured, letting my lips brush her skin.

She scoffed. "You're such an asshole, Romaniev."

"I know," I replied with a smirk.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "I don't trust you."

"Wise choice."

"I feel a bit dizzy," she admitted, closing her eyes and resting her head back against the door. "You better not have poisoned me."

"Don't worry, it's perfectly normal," I said with a wink, pressing another kiss to her hand. "I tend to have that effect on women."

She laughed softly, giving me a playful shove before gliding around me, her ponytail swaying with each step as she returned to the dinner table. Her fragrance lingered in the air, dangerously seductive.

I shut my eyes, drawing in a deep breath to savor her scent.

Fuck, she smells too fucking good.

I ran a hand through my hair, gripping the ends to steady myself.

This game's turning out to be a lot more interesting than I'd fucking expected.