14. LEIGH

Chapter 14

LEIGH

“I’m not nervous.” I try to shrug it off, but the faint waver in my voice betrays me, undermining the effort. “It’s your pool,” I add, a half-hearted attempt at humor that falls flat against the tension crackling in the humid air.

The water ripples around him, mirroring the unease tightening in my chest. Instinct screams at me to retreat, to create space, but his deliberate approach is as steady as the pull he exerts over me.

“You’re not planning to leave me here all alone, are you?” His voice is low, textured, humming with a dark promise that sends a shiver down my spine.

I swallow against the sudden dryness in my throat. “I just thought you’d want to enjoy your spa,” I reply, aiming for nonchalance, though the words feel hollow.

His gaze locks on mine, and I feel every defense I’ve built start to crumble under the weight of his intensity. “I want to enjoy it with you, ptichka,” Radomir murmurs. His eyes travel over me, lingering on my bikini-clad form, the heat in his stare seers my skin. “You are the perfect picture—fire, defiance, innocence, and just a trace of vulnerability. Exquisite. Rare. A true masterpiece, crafted for my eyes alone.” He steps closer.

My stomach twists, an unsettling knot of anger and longing coiling tighter at his words. His possessiveness, arrogance, and sheer audacity—claiming me as if I were nothing more than a prized painting tucked away in his private gallery—ignite a spark of rebellion.

Yet beneath the fury, a yearning begins to stir. Something that I’ve secretly craved in the quiet corners of my soul—safety, belonging, and the certainty of being wanted.

It leaves me frozen, torn between the woman I’ve fought to become and the fragile, pathetic longing born of insecurities I’ve always kept buried. I try to pull away, but his hand catches my wrist like a band of steel.

“Where are you going?” His brow lifts, his gaze sharpening with unmistakable desire.

“I need to finish some work,” I say, my voice faltering as I cling to the remnants of control slipping away like water over my skin. “A song I started.”

“Mm, sounds interesting.” He draws me closer. The slickness of the water heightens every sensation where our bodies meet. His voice dips lower, a whisper against my ear that feels like molten silk. “What’s it about?”

My determination falters as his fingers glide along my collarbone, tracing a burning path to my chin, tilting my face upward to meet his. The proximity makes it impossible to think, coherence slipping away under the onslaught of sensations—his touch, his heat, the dark pull of his gaze.

“It’s about life’s cruel twists and turns,” I finally murmur, though my voice is barely more than a breath.

Radomir’s lips ghost over my jaw, trailing to the sensitive spot behind my ear. “Ah,” he murmurs, his tone laced with dark amusement. “So, it’s like a lyrical memoir of your life?”

“I guess,” I croak, as he kisses along my neck, his hands slipping around my waist. I feel his arousal pulse against me, and my body responds, a tantalizing warmth spreading through me.

Where his touch goes, my resolve falters, and I feel the bitter sting of self-betrayal—not just of my will but of something deeper. My body, my heart, even fragments of my soul seem intent on surrendering to him, and I’m powerless to stop it.

His lips claim mine in a slow, deliberate kiss, igniting a fire that consumes my resolve. The walls I’ve fought so hard to maintain crumble as his touch sears through every defense. An involuntary shudder courses through me as his hands grip my waist, pulling me flush against him.

My body betrays me completely, my pussy clenching with need as the hard press of his arousal against me teases through the fragile barrier of my swimsuit.

His hand slides to the back of my neck, the other grazing over my breast, sending a jolt of electricity through me as my nipples harden under his touch. His fingers pinch and knead with deliberate skill, drawing a gasp from me as I arch into him, the need simmering inside me boiling over.

I barely notice the knot at the base of my neck loosen until the top of my bikini falls away, exposing me to him. In one swift move, Radomir undoes the remaining knot, discarding the top with a possessive ease that leaves me breathless.

He deepens the kiss, and an involuntary moan escapes me when the hand down south slips into my wet swimsuit bottom. His fingers trace along my soft slit before parting them to swirl around my clit, then dipping inside me to find how wet I am for him already.

“Ah, my beautiful Leigh,” Radomir murmurs, pulling his lips from mine to hold my eyes. “You can try to run all you want to, ptichka, but your body defies you.”

He starts to move his fingers within me, driving me into a mindless, desire-induced haze. My hand slides up his muscular back, trailing over the warm skin until it reaches his neck. I sink my nails lightly into him, feeling him shudder beneath me, and my hips move to the rhythm of his hand.

“That’s it, ptichka,” Radomir encourages, his other hand kneading my breast. “Give yourself over to the pleasure.” His head ducks, his tongue swirls around my nipple.

“Uhhhhh,” I start to pant, and my body starts to build to that delicious peak of release as his mouth and fingers strum my desire. “Oh, oh, oh.” My hips grind onto his fingers, and my hands pull his mouth closer to my breast. “That feels so, so gooood.”

“Yes, my little one, let go.” He moves his mouth over to my other breast.

His finger moves faster inside me, inserting two more that pump to the gyration of my hips. It’s not long until my head is thrown back, and my scream echoes through the pool room. Radomir keeps thrusting his fingers into me as I ride down the wave. The shattering orgasm leaves my knees weak, and I collapse against him.

With a growl, he picks me up effortlessly and sits me on the side of the pool. His hands grip the sides of my bikini bottom, yanking them off impatiently, throwing them to one side.

“Open your legs for me,” his voice is a seductive command. “Offer your pussy to me.”

Still trembling from the aftermath of my orgasm—a release that only seems to have deepened the ache he’s stirred within me—I obey, unable to fight the pull between us. Our eyes remain locked as I slowly spread my legs, revealing myself to him completely. Radomir’s gaze drops, his sharp inhale betraying the effect I have on him.

For the first time, the dynamic between us shifts. His impenetrable control fractures—a flicker of raw vulnerability in his eyes before his composure wrestles it back.

The realization crashes over me—he’s as bound and compelled by this powerful attraction between us as I am, as vulnerable to it as I feel. It’s exhilarating, a rush that surges through me and ignites a daring confidence.

Emboldened by the subtle power I’ve uncovered. I tilt my hips toward him. My one hand glides over my hip dipping to my pussy, I open the folds and start to play with myself.

Radomir watches my movements as if entranced. The rise and fall of his chest gets deeper as I start to move my hips and throw my head back, soft murmurs rolling from my lips as I pleasure myself in front of him.

My eyes close as I feel myself peeking, my tongue sliding over my lips, my stomach clenching. I’m about to come again when Radomir’s strong hand clamps over mine. He pulls my hand from my pussy, bringing my finger to his mouth. He licks my juices from them.

“You taste so sweet,” he rasps, his voice rough with need. “Jesus. You’re a dark temptress disguised as an angel.” He releases my hand and moves with a speed that leaves me breathless. In one swift motion, he sheds his trunks and thrusts into me, his thick cock stretching me to the brink.

His hands grip my ass firmly, holding me in place as he stills, his body trembling with restraint. The veins in his neck bulge, and his jaw clenches as if he’s waging an internal battle. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his voice raw with a mixture of ecstasy and torment. “I feel like I’m going to lose it—right now.”

The growl that escapes him is feral, an aching blend of agony and pleasure that sends a shiver through my entire body, leaving me utterly captive in his grasp, and it’s almost painful to keep myself from moving against him. But my greedy pussy clenches involuntarily around his hardness, impatient for release, drawing a ragged groan from his lips.

“Oh, fuck, Leigh!” Radomir’s voice is thick, strained, as if the last shreds of his composure have shattered.

His fingers dig into my hips, and his pupils dilate, eclipsing the blue of his eyes with raw, unrelenting hunger. His jaw tightens, his body trembling with the force of barely restrained need.

He starts to move, his hips driving into me with a force that steals my breath. Each thrust is powerful and deep as I wrap my legs around his waist. His breath comes out in broken growls with every pump of his hips, the sound vibrating between us and driving me higher to the edge.

“Radomir…” I pant. “I… Oh God, oh God, oh God…” My nails dig into the flesh of his biceps as my body teeters on the brink of release.

“Look at me.” His voice is breathless. “Let me see you come undone in my arms.”

My breathing becomes more and more labored, my body bouncing as he slams into me, and he holds my gaze with his. “Come for me, moya charovnitsa, soak my cock with your juices.”

His thumb presses against my clit, and I explode. “Radomir. Oh fuckkkkk.” My scream echoes through the pool room, my nails digging deeper into the hard flesh of his arms.

The orgasm pulses through me. I barely feel his hands grip my hips as he gives a few more hard thrusts and lets out a guttural groan, spilling himself inside me. Radomir wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. His body shudders with mine. My legs clamp around him a little tighter as we ride the waves of the shattering orgasm aftershocks locked against each other.

We stay like that for a moment, tangled together in the water, our breaths mingling as we come down from the high. My head rests against his shoulder, my body still humming with the afterglow, and I find all I want to do is snuggle into his solid chest and drift off to sleep.

Slowly, he pulls out and disentangles himself from me. For a moment, he stands there, his eyes locked on mine, an unreadable expression flickering before his gaze turns cold and shuttered. Without a word, he turns and steps out of the spa, utterly unconcerned about his nakedness.

My eyes trace the contours of his muscular frame, lingering on the dragon tattoo that stretches across one side of his back, its tail coiling around his waist and splaying across his abdomen—a striking symbol of the power he wields over his kingdom.

Radomir’s eyes are still cold and impersonal as he grabs two towels from the rack and tosses one at me. “Cover yourself,” he orders, his voice brisk, devoid of the warmth that had consumed us moments before. His gaze averts as though the intimacy we just shared has already been erased.

Confused, I obey, clutching the towel to my chest and wrapping it around myself. He secures a towel around his waist, the gesture efficient and detached.

“I have meetings in Vegas,” he states flatly. “I’ll be gone until morning. I assume you can find ways to entertain yourself.”

The words cut deeper than they should, leaving me floundering in a storm of emotions—confusion, hurt, and the unwelcome sting of rejection. Wrapping the towel tightly around me, I rise to my feet, my limbs unsteady under the weight of his sudden shift in demeanor.

Unsure how to proceed, I start to walk away, but as I pass him, his hand shoots out, gripping my arm painfully. I glance up, startled. His expression is unreadable, his tone cold and probing.

“What do you know about Alexandra Vasilikis?”

The name catches me off guard, and I blink at him, shaking my head. “I’ve never heard that name before,” I reply cautiously, the confusion in my voice genuine.

His eyes narrow, as though searching for cracks in my words. “What about Nikolas Vasilikis?”

Something about that name grabs me, but I shake my head. “No. I don’t know him either.”

He exhales sharply, his jaw tightening. “And the Greek Matriarch?” he presses, his words slicing through the tense silence.

My breath hitches, my eyes widening slightly. Is he talking about the Matriarch Records icon? Everyone knows her. She’s a legend—they call her the Greek Goddess of fame, and every recording artist in the world dreams of signing with her, including me. Oh, God… does he know Harry, my agent, sent my songs to Matriarch?

Before I can stop myself, the words tumble out. “Do you mean… I Ellinida Matriarchis?” I say her name in Greek reflexively. “The head of Matriarch Records?”

His jaw ticks, and the air between us feels heavier, charged with something I can’t quite decipher. “How do you know her?”

“I don’t,” I answer truthfully. But fuck, I’d love to . “Every recording artist or wannabe in the world knows who she is. She’s a legend in the music business. If you can sign with her, your career is made.”

His eyes narrow further. “Is that why you were running to Los Angeles?”

“How do you…” I stop short, fury bubbling to the surface at the memory of how he invaded my life like a thief rifling through my most private moments. My tone sharpens, laced with ice and defiance. “Matriarch Records is a lot further from Vegas than Los Angeles, and I’d need a plane ticket to get there, which is a bit out of my price range.”

“Where?”

“Where what?” I snap, irritation flaring.

“Where is Matriarch Records headquartered?”

“London,” I reply warily, unsure of where this interrogation is leading.

Something flashes in his eyes—calculation, maybe—but I don’t have time to dissect it before he speaks again. “What else do you know about her?”

“Not much,” I admit, shrugging. “She doesn’t do interviews and keeps her private life locked up tight. In fact according to the tabloids she’s very reclusive. I think she’s from an extremely powerful Greek family or something. Not many people have met her. I think her real name is Alexis Archontis. Which is where the name for Matriarch Records comes from. Her last name means ruler or leader in Greek.”

I have no idea why I just gave him a Greek language lesson except for the fact that he’s kind of freaking me out right now.

“And your father has never mentioned her or her family?”

“No!” I shake my head, bewildered. “Why would he?” My eyes narrow as suspicion stirs. “Has someone from Matriarch contacted him? Is that why you’re asking? Did they try to get to me through him?”

His eyes glint with something unreadable, his tone dark and cutting. “That’s what I’m asking you.”

“Well, they haven’t!” My voice rises as anger takes hold. “Do you really think if Matriarch Records had contacted me, I’d fucking still be here?”

His voice turns cold enough to freeze the room. “That’s where you’re wrong, ptichka. Your path always led here—to me.” His eyes pin me in place, sharp and unyielding. “If anyone from Matriarch Records contacts you, you will come to me immediately. No exceptions .”

“How will anyone contact me or approach me?” I challenge, fire sparking in my voice. “You’ve got me locked up in your fortress with no way to contact the outside world. Like fucking Rapunzel locked in a tower.”

“People are surprisingly resourceful when they want something badly enough,” he sneers. “And if that happens, you’ll come to me immediately.”

“Got it—crush my dreams even further by reporting any sliver of hope I might have for a career or freedom to you.” I salute mockingly with my free arm, the one not currently caught in his iron grip. “I won’t be able to write music anyway if you keep crushing my arm like this.”

His hand drops away as though my skin has burned him, his lip curling in disdain. “Don’t delude yourself, Leigh. You won’t get far, no matter what fantasies you cling to. Every door you think is open will be locked, every path you take will lead straight back to me. Your freedom? It’s a mirage I’ve allowed you to entertain.”

His voice lowers, every word cutting deeper. “Not even the Greek matriarch could save you if she wanted to. And if you did somehow escape, there’s nowhere on this earth you can hide where I won’t find you.” He leans closer, his gaze sharp and mocking. “And as for that dream of a music career? It’ll happen only if I permit it.”

His words strike like a slap, the cold finality stealing my breath. My chest tightens as the fortress walls close in, suffocating under the weight of his control. He turns and leaves the pool area.

By the time I return to the bedroom, he’s gone. The emptiness of the room swallows me whole, amplifying the ache in my chest. I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions tearing through me.

My mind reels at how quickly Radomir shifted from passionate lover to cold, calculating interrogator—squashing my dreams with a cruel, almost relished finality.

I bury my face in the pillow, the tears I’ve fought so hard to suppress spilling over in silent waves. The sobs wrack my body, muffled by the plush fabric, and I cling to it as if it can absorb my pain. Minutes bleed into hours until exhaustion takes over.

Even as sleep claims me in the late afternoon light, it brings no comfort. My dreams are restless and full of shadows—accusing whispers and the suffocating weight of his words. The chains of his control coil tighter, even in the sanctuary of my subconscious.