Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 59: Chapter 59

Elena’s POV:
The silence stretched inside the car like a taut wire, the kind that could snap with the softest touch. My breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat, frozen as I stared at Nikolai.
He swallowed. His Adam's apple rolled up and down. Slow.
And without a word, without a warning, his hand reached out and wrapped around the nape of my neck, pulling me forward.
And then he kissed me.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t even one of those cocky, smug kisses he sometimes gave when he was in the mood to fluster me.
No.
This was different.
This kiss was deep. Raw. Desperate.
His lips moved against mine like he was trying to pour every unspoken thing between us straight into me. His fingers tightened slightly at the back of my neck, holding me still. His body leaned in, the faint scent of his cologne— earthy, expensive, painfully him—flooding my senses.
My eyes widened, but I didn’t pull back. Couldn’t.
I let myself sink into him. Let myself feel it.
For a moment, there was no pain in my hands, no fear in my chest, no doubts clawing at the edges of my thoughts. There was only him—his mouth claiming mine, the heat of his skin through his shirt, the way his breath hitched when I leaned into him just a little more.
But then pain did flare. Sharp and real.
I accidentally clenched my hands, my fingers curling against the inside of the bandages, and a hiss escaped before I could stop it.
He broke the kiss instantly, his hands flying to my wrists.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low but urgent, eyes scanning my face, searching.
I couldn’t answer.
I just stared at him.
Wide-eyed. Stunned. Completely, utterly flabbergasted.
My mind was racing a mile a second, thoughts crashing into one another like cars in a pileup. What had just happened? Why did it feel like my heart was beating in my throat? Why was it so hard to breathe?
His kiss hadn’t just stolen my breath—it had taken something else. Something far more dangerous. Something terrifying.
Feelings. Feelings I had constantly been pushing inside that dark room in my mind, feelings I had been trying so hard not to think about after the accident.
I watched him run a hand through his hair, frustration tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back against the seat.
“Elena,” he muttered, voice rough. “I really did enter this marriage thinking it would only last a year. Just one year. I know I sound like an asshole saying this, but I really thought... I would just get over you. That I could walk away after and not look back. Because I….I have never felt like this for anyone.”
He looked at me then, really looked.
“But now I have to ask,” he said, his voice lower, more raw. “Am I the only one feeling this?”
The question knocked the air right out of me.
I bit my lip, hard.
Dmitri’s words came rushing back. He’s a Vetrov too. That sentence echoed through my mind like a warning bell. Did it matter that Nikolai wasn’t like Dmitri? That he hadn’t hurt me the same way? Could I really trust myself not to make the same mistake again?
My eyes began to sting, and I turned away, blinking rapidly. Fuck what was wrong with me?
I didn’t trust my voice.
“I...” I began, the words thick in my throat. “I think we should think about this first. I don’t... don’t want us to make a conclusion this fast and end up regretting it.”
My chest ached as I forced the words out.
“It’s only been a week since our marriage, Nikolai.”
He sighed, and I felt his gaze linger on me even as I refused to meet his eyes.
“I get it,” he murmured after a long pause. “You’re right.”
He reached over and gently pulled my seatbelt into place, fastening it with a click that sounded too loud in the stillness.
“I’ll take us home.”
But I shook my head.
He glanced at me, confused.
“I think you should go to work,” I said, finally looking up. “You have meetings. You’re busy.”
He frowned, his jaw hardening.
“I can’t leave you alone like this,” he said, the edge in his voice unmistakable. “You can’t even use your hands. How will you move around? Shower? Eat? What if you fall?”
“I’ll manage.”
“No,” he snapped. “You won’t. I know you, Elena. You’ll pretend you’re fine, and you’ll suffer in silence, and I’m not okay with that.”
I blinked, taken aback by the sheer force of his protectiveness.
He reached into his blazer pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed with a speed that told me he’d already made his decision and it didn’t matter what my opinion was.
“Felix,” he said when the call connected. “I need you to arrange for an in-home nurse. Full-time. Yes. She needs help with daily tasks, her hands are injured. Should also know to cook or handle simple meals. Today, Felix. Within the hour. Money isn’t an issue.”
“Hey!” I snapped, wide-eyed. “What the hell, Nikolai?”
He shrugged, completely unapologetic as he ended the call.
“It’s either that,” he said, “or I stay home all day looking after you.”
My lips parted.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t soften. Just stared at me like this was non-negotiable.
“I won’t leave you alone like this,” he said, quieter now. “Especially not when your mom’s out for work.”
I slumped back against the seat, finally giving in with a sigh. My heart beat unevenly in my chest, each thud louder than the last.
What the hell was I supposed to do with a man like this?
Someone who saw right through me.
Someone who did things like this without asking because he knew I’d never ask for help myself.
My brain screamed no.
My heart screamed yes.
And I was stuck in the middle, slowly drowning in both.
The ride home was quiet. Not awkward. Not tense. Just quiet.
When we got inside, Nikolai helped me change into more comfortable clothes—a simple, oversized T-shirt and a pair of soft pajama pants. His hands worked gently, efficiently, never lingering too long, though his fingers brushed against my waist once, and I swore I stopped breathing.
“You hungry?” he asked, already moving into the kitchen.
“A little,” I admitted.
He rolled up his sleeves and began moving around the space like he owned it.
I sat at the dining table, elbows resting on the edge as I watched him open a bag of lentils and measure out rice. The way he moved... focused, precise, capable.
He didn’t even use his phone for instructions. Just chopped and stirred, sprinkling in cumin, ginger, a bit of turmeric, tasting occasionally with a wooden spoon.
I smiled faintly, watching him, something warm curling in my chest.
He set the pot on the stove and turned the heat down to simmer. Then he walked over, wiping his hands on a towel just as the doorbell rang.
He opened the door, and in walked the nurse.
She was in her early thirties, petite but sprightly. Her dark brown hair was tucked under a patterned scarf, and she wore plain blue scrubs. Her name read…..
“Princess.”
I blinked. Seriously?
Her eyes landed on Nikolai first, and she smiled. Bright. Flirty. Her gaze lingered far longer than was strictly professional.
“Hi,” she said sweetly. “You must be Elena. And you—” she glanced at Nikolai, then looked back at me “—must be the doting husband. You’re very sweet.”
Oh. Oh no.
I pasted on a smile so tight it could crack glass.
“Yes,” I said, voice syrupy. “MY husband is VERY sweet.”