Chapter 18

Chapter

Eighteen

"Sometimes you take all my words away from me."

― Amie Kaufman

Caia

I shifted in bed, feeling the weight of my blanket heavier than usual. Something was off. I hugged my pillow closer, but it didn't feel right—too solid, too warm. Then I felt it rise and fall beneath my arm, the steady rhythm of breathing that wasn't mine. My entire body went cold.

I wasn't holding a pillow—I was holding a body.

My heart slammed against my chest, panic shooting through me as I tried to remember how the hell I ended up like this. Just as the fear was about to tip over, a familiar voice shattered the silence.

"Go back to sleep, baby. It's only two in the morning. "

I exhaled sharply, relief washing over me. I opened my eyes to find Alexsei smirking at me. Fully dressed, while I was topless, my leg and arm were wrapped around him like a vine. My nipples brushed against his shirt, sending a rush of heat down my body, settling low in my stomach.

Wait. Relief ? Really, Caia?

What the hell happened to self-control?

Why does it evaporate the second this man's eyes even glance your way?

This man insults me, humiliates me, manhandles me—but oh, God, the way he touches me... STOP. After everything, I still let him get his hands on me again. Seriously, I need a therapist, like, yesterday .

But a twisted part of me …loves it all. It's disturbing, isn't it? How I crave the insults, the humiliation—like he's mastered the perfect balance of degradation and praise, knowing exactly how to unravel me.

It's almost pathetic, but that dark part of me... it's drawn to it, feeding off every twisted second.

"Sorry, must've knocked out," I mumbled.

He chuckled low and deep. "Yeah, I made you come so hard you passed out."

My face heated up instantly, and I buried it in the crook of his neck, my skin burning with embarrassment.

"Don't go shy on me now," he said, his hand moving up and down my bare back. "I fucking loved it."

I shook my head with a soft laugh, trying to escape the weight of what I'd just let him do to me—again—and yawned as I rolled to the other side. Didn't get far. He spooned me immediately, his arm locking around my waist like I was some kind of human pillow, one hand cupping my breast like he owned it. I let out a contented hum, his heat wrapping around me like a blanket that was a little too possessive, pulling me even closer.

It was strange, feeling so relaxed and safe with someone who was a complete disaster for my sanity—and, let's be honest, my safety too. A brief shiver ran down my spine at the thought that I'd just let a killer make me come for the second time with those magic fingers of his, but it faded when his lips started tracing along my neck.

I could feel him hard against my ass, and my legs instinctively clenched, trying to manage the heat building between them.

Then, suddenly, the memory of what he made me say earlier—that I actually wanted to sleep with him—had my cheeks flushing all over again.

"Anything I said when we... I didn't mean it?—"

He laughed, his grip on my breast tightening just enough to make me rethink that whole I didn't mean it part. "Oh, don't try to take it back now, Caia. It's way too late for that."

I fell quiet as his touch softened, his fingers lazily drawing circles over my chest and stomach, soothing in a way that made me feel like drifting off. My eyelids grew heavy, and just as I was about to fall asleep, I felt his lips brush against the sensitive spot behind my ear.

"But first, I need you to be mine before I fuck you, Caia."

I slipped into sleep after that, only to wake up hours later to an empty, cold bed.

"So, how was your date with Mr. Prince Charming?" Valeria's voice snapped me out of my focus as I sorted out the meds for the patients' lunch .

I frowned, totally lost. "What are you talking about?"

"Your date," she repeated, just as confused as me. "With your tall, muscular, drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend with the bluest eyes I've ever seen."

My eyes widened. "What?"

Valeria slapped a hand over her mouth dramatically. "He came by last night with pastries for you, practically begged me to open the door so he could surprise you."

I just stared at her, my mouth hanging open like an idiot.

"Caia, please tell me that the man I let into my clinic was actually your boyfriend and not some random guy who could've kidnapped all my patients," she said, somewhere between impatience and a mild panic attack.

"He's not my boyfriend," I muttered, sliding the medicine box into the cabinet.

Valeria's eyes narrowed. "But you know him, right?" she asked, almost pleading at this point.

"Yeah, sorry," I sighed, sitting down behind my desk and pretending to care about patient requests for vegetarian dinners. "He's... an acquaintance."

An acquaintance who made me come hard last night and left hickeys all over my neck and chest.

Yep, totally normal, everyday acquaintance behavior.

I had to wear a turtleneck today just to cover up the evidence of this very …enthusiastic night.

"To be honest, he looks a bit familiar, but I can't quite place him. Still, he seemed… nice," Valeria shrugged, taking a seat across from me.

"They all do at first," I replied with a small smile before turning back to my computer, checking off the names of patients who had eaten breakfast without causing any trouble.

Valeria's been through a lot. She's not just my boss; she's become my best friend.

She's this incredible woman, barely five-foot-four, with a chic short haircut and warm brown eyes. But her heart's been shattered. Her ex-husband—the only man she ever loved—left her after ten years of marriage for someone younger. It was devastating enough, but it got worse when that younger woman got pregnant. Then, just three months later, they all died in a car crash he caused while driving drunk.

She's only thirty-seven, but that experience has left scars. I keep trying to encourage her to get out there again, to give love another chance, but after what she's been through, it's hard for her to open up. She told me once that trusting someone new feels like climbing an impossible mountain. And I get it.

"Yeah," she sighed. "At least he brought you your favorite dessert, showing he listens to you. My ex once brought me chamomile tea, saying it was my favorite—even though I'm allergic. I nearly died that night."

I sighed. "Ugh, these men are the worst."

"Not all of them," she countered, trying to lighten the mood. "So, tell me more about this acquaintance ."

I rolled my eyes, trying to focus on my screen. "There's not much to tell. He's just …a friend of my father's."

Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Wait, that guy? What's he doing hanging around your father?"

I chuckled. "Why does it matter?"

"Because," she said, crossing her arms and giving a mock shiver, "I know your father, Caia. He's a bit… offbeat, even creepy sometimes. But I guess you already know that."

I turned back to the screen, trying to remember if the patient in room 157 had vanilla yogurt or lemon cake for breakfast. I was desperate to change the subject, to push Alexsei out of my mind. But it was impossible. His touch, his mouth, the hunger in his eyes—they were all I could think about. Damn, I knew I should've ignored that perfect ugly face of his .

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" Valeria asked, her voice full of concern.

I let out a sigh. "Everything's always a mess, Valeria."

She moved closer, taking my hands in hers. "Talk to me, Caia."

My heart was screaming for help, begging me to open up, to get an outsider's perspective on this disaster I'd stumbled into. Maybe talking it out would help me find a way out.

"Okay, so his name's Alexsei Romaniev," I began slowly. "And here's the thing—my dad's basically forcing me to sleep with Alexsei for leverage. At first, I felt like I had no choice, but now I want nothing to do with it. But I know my dad's going to be furious, maybe even… hurt me."

I took a deep breath and continued, the words spilling out. "Alexsei stopped by last night. I don't even know why, really. The last time I saw him a couple nights ago, I told him I'd never touch his ugly face even with a stick, but I guess he wanted to prove me wrong. He'd invited me for dinner a few days before that, but things didn't go well. I almost went along with my dad's plan, felt like I had to, but …I couldn't do it. I can't keep letting my dad control my life. Especially not after…" My voice trailed off, tears stinging my eyes.

Valeria nodded, squeezing my hands tighter. "I understand."

A couple of years ago, Valeria found me in my apartment, broken, drowning in tears and alcohol. I told her everything—what happened, what he did, who he was, and how scared I was.

She saw me at my worst, and she stayed, helping me piece myself back together. She's my rock now, my only confidante. But I didn't want to drag her into my mess, didn't want her to get hurt because of me—just like my poor Lily.

"I don't know what to do, Valeria. I'm completely stuck. "

Without hesitation, she wrapped me in her arms, comforting me.

I was supposed to meet my father tonight, supposed to have fulfilled that grotesque demand of his tonight, but each step toward that meeting felt like I was marching straight to my own execution.

Mankiev:

Dinner at eight at Morozko. Don't be late.

I received his text a few hours after my emotional meltdown—a message that landed just as I was cheering myself up with a game of bingo with the patients. Valeria had suggested it, hoping it would distract me and put a smile on my face. Surprisingly, it worked.

For three hours, our patients fiercely competed for two tickets to Swan Lake at Moscow's prestigious theater. Lugia, a lively seventy-five-year-old, won and immediately invited her friend, or should I say her crush, Kosviev, to join her. Her cheeks turned pink when she asked, and he happily accepted, sealing it with a kiss on her cheek.

As I settled back at my desk to finish up the day's tasks, my phone buzzed. A message from my father. My stomach twisted into a knot. Morozko was his fancy restaurant just outside the city, and him wanting to meet me there was definitely not a good sign.

That's it, Caia. He's going to kill you.

I raced home, jumped in the shower, and turned the water scalding hot, hoping it could steam away more than just my stress .

Sitting there, I found myself dreaming up absurd escape plans, straight out of a Hollywood thriller. Should I pull a Britney Spears and shave my head for a new identity? Maybe hide out in a quiet village in Portugal? Or go for the ultimate plot twist and fake my own death? It sounds crazy, but weirdly, it didn't seem as far-fetched as it should have.

After what felt like forever, I got out, dried off, and got ready. If this was going to be my last night on earth, I might as well look fabulous.

I went all out with a Givenchy sparkly gold dress, long sleeves, and a slit up to my thigh. Backless, bold, and just a touch of revenge. Paired it with golden hoops and my YSL heels—because why not wear the shoes I bought to celebrate finishing uni on a night I might not live to see?

I grabbed my black fur coat and braced myself for the snow, ready to face whatever twisted fate awaited me.