Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 53: Chapter 53

Elena’s POV:
"Mom! What are you saying? He got hurt too, can’t you see?"
I didn’t mean to shout, but it came out loud anyway. The fury bubbled up faster than I could stop it, burning hotter than the pain in my arms. My hands ached beneath the bandages, useless and numb, but I wasn’t numb anywhere else. Especially not when it came to watching Nikolai get blamed.
Nikolai didn’t even flinch. He stood beside my hospital bed, silent and unmoving. He didn’t try to defend himself. Not until I did.
But he held up a hand now, gently.
"Elena, it’s alright," he said quietly, voice rough but calm. "She has a right to be angry."
I frowned. "You almost died, too. She can be mad and interrogate you later." It didn’t even register to me how, for the first time ever, I was siding against my mom.
But he only looked at Beatrix now, his eyes steady. "She deserves to know the truth."
Beatrix stood stiff, arms crossed, her jaw tight. I could see the way she was holding herself back, like it took everything not to lash out again. She was scared. That was all it was. But fear in my mother always wore the mask of fury.
Nikolai took a breath.
"We went on a road trip. That part was my idea. Elena had been studying nonstop, and I wanted to give her a break after the banquet. So I thought she might enjoy a road trip, she could drive half the way and we could take short breaks…and talk."
He paused.
"But the car was new and turns out, it had been rigged."
Beatrix blinked, eyes narrowing. "What?"
"There was a bomb in the vehicle. Whoever planted it knew we were going to be in that car. It had been timed to explode right before we were about to enter the city."
The silence that followed was a vacuum. I felt it in my chest, pressing inward. Whoever had done this clearly wanted to ruin his reputation. Because if that car had exploded in the city, causing civilian casualties, even if we died, people would blame Nikolai for not being careful. For buying such an expensive car when he couldn’t drive it properly. People always found a way to blame the privileged, just to make themselves feel better.
"She saved my life," Nikolai said, glancing down at me. His voice cracked at the edges. "The moment we realized something was wrong, she acted faster than I did. If she hadn’t been there, I’d be dead."
His jaw clenched.
"She’s the reason I’m still standing here."
Beatrix was staring at him now, something in her posture changing. The frost was still there, but it was melting, slowly. The edges of her shoulders softened, and she uncrossed her arms.
"And what," she said after a moment, voice low, "are you planning to do about it? Are you going to just sit here? Or are you reporting it? To the police?"
Nikolai shook his head. "I will take care of it. In my own way."
Her eyes flared. "That’s not good enough. Someone tried to kill you—tried to kill my daughter. And you’re saying you’ll just take care of it?"
"My assistant is already working on it," Nikolai said, his voice cooling. "Security footage, the mechanic logs, personnel who had access to the car…we’re combing through everything. I have a very strong suspicion about who did this."
That caught my attention.
I shifted slightly, wincing at the pull in my back, but I was watching him closely now.
"You think you know who it was?" I asked.
He nodded slowly but didn’t elaborate.
Beatrix seemed to recognize the change in energy too. Her gaze flicked from me to him. "Are you two hungry?"
I blinked. "A little."
"I’ll go get food."
Nikolai straightened. "I can—"
"Stay," she interrupted, without looking at him. Her voice wasn’t cold this time. If anything, it was almost… sheepish. "Wait here with her."
She turned to leave, but not before I saw her glance back at Nikolai. Her eyes lingered, and for a second, she looked guilty. She knew he wasn’t to blame. She just hadn’t known where else to put all that fear.
The moment the door clicked shut, I turned to Nikolai.
"You said you had a suspicion. Who?"
He hesitated. I saw it in his eyes..
"Niko," I pressed. "Tell me."
He looked at me, thoughtful. If I didn’t know the person then he wouldn’t be hiding it like this. Who…would benefit from the death of Nikolai Vetrov? Many would. His business rivals especially. But death in such a horrible way? It would have to be a crime of passion.
And suddenly, out of nowhere, I remembered Phillipe. The way he looked at me that morning. Greasy. Possessive. Predatory. Something about it stuck to me like oil on skin.
I sat up straighter.
"Do you think it was….Phillipe?"
There were a handful of people famous enough to rival Nikolai’s business empire. Amongst them, I knew of one Philipe. Philipe Sullivan. The CEO of Lumiere. A fashion brand only second to SIRROCCO.
Was he that Phillipe?
Nikolai’s brows shot up. "How did you…?" He shook his head, “Nevermind, you shouldn’t worry about this.”
I rolled my eyes at his surprise. "Come on, Niko. I never thought marrying you was going to be a fairy tale. I know power attracts enemies. I know people want your place. Or your life. I read the papers. The reporters or people try to cover it all up as ‘bad luck’, but I know better.”
I remembered seeing pictures of him, half-conscious being taken into ambulances, and the story always changes—gas leak, faulty wiring, bodyguards screwing up. And I wasn’t exactly a believer of luck. Whether good or bad.
He just looked at me, stunned. Like he didn’t expect that.
"People are selfish," I said softly. "Greedy. They smell money and blood, and they come crawling."
Nikolai stepped closer.
"Damn it, Elena," he murmured, his voice rough. "You keep talking like this, and I might actually end up falling in love with you."
My heart stopped. Skipped.
I looked away, heat crawling up my neck. "Don’t be stupid." Why did he suddenly change the subject to this?
But he wasn’t done. His hand caught my chin gently, turning my face toward him.
"Too late."
Then he kissed me.
Hard. Deep. There was no prelude, no warning. One moment he was staring at me like I was something rare, and the next, his mouth was on mine, stealing all the air in the room.
I gasped into it, my body instinctively trying to push him back, but his hands were firm, holding me without hurting. And the longer he kissed me, the less I fought. I melted. Fully, recklessly. The butterflies in my stomach turned into something else—something wild and starved.
His kiss grew more dominant. More possessive. My hands were useless, bandaged and heavy, so I just sat there and took it, my heart thrashing against my ribs.
And then—
A cough.
We broke apart like teenagers caught under the bleachers.
Beatrix stood in the doorway, her eyebrow raised and her phone in hand.
"I just came back to ask if you guys wanted something specific," she said, tone far too casual. "Sorry to disturb."
She didn’t look sorry at all.
"Pasta," I croaked. "Anything pasta."
"And grilled chicken, if possible," Nikolai added.
She nodded, lips twitching, and disappeared again.
I wanted to bury myself under the hospital blanket.
When she returned twenty minutes later, the food was steaming in two paper bags. She unpacked the containers, set them up on the rolling table, and without a word, sat next to me and began feeding me bite by bite. I tried not to look at Nikolai, who had taken his own container to the corner chair, looking….sheepish?
After a few minutes, Beatrix turned to him.
"Is your father coming to see you?"
He blinked. "I didn’t tell him."
She frowned. "He should know. You were nearly killed."
"I already contacted my secretary. He’s handling everything. I’ll be back to work soon."
Beatrix scowled. "I wasn’t asking about work. I meant someone should be taking care of you."
Nikolai glanced up, something soft in his eyes. "Aren’t you here though? You’re also my mother…no?"
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
Beatrix’s eyes widened. Then she cleared her throat, nodding stiffly. "Ah, yes. Of course. You’re right."
That did it. I burst out laughing.
"See? He’s trying his best. You got mad at the poor guy for no reason."
"He’s far from poor, firstly," she said, narrowing her eyes. "And…I do apologize. I was startled."
"It’s alright," Nikolai said, waving a hand. "Don’t worry. I understand."
Beatrix nodded once, and a kind of peace settled into the room.
We were discharged later that day. No internal injuries, no concussion. Just scrapes and burns. My hands were the worst. Everything else would fade.
We returned home in a taxi, and the ride was quiet.
That night, after we cleaned up and got comfortable, we lay on the bed. The mattress dipped beneath our weight, the familiar softness of our bedroom cocooning us.
I shifted beside him, eyes on the ceiling.
"Hey, Niko?"
"Yeah?"
I turned my head to look at him.
"How are we supposed to have sex if I can’t even use my hands?"
His eyes flew to mine.