Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 60: Chapter 60

Elena’s POV:
Two weeks dragged by at a snail’s pace, each day blurring into the next in a haze of monotony and aching hands.
I couldn't cook. I couldn't write. Hell, I could barely undo the buttons on my own clothes without looking like I was trying to defuse a bomb blindfolded. The only highlight of the past few days was that my coursework hadn’t suffered.
Which was a miracle in itself.
Somehow, despite the chaos, I was managing to keep up. My trusty note-recorder app—which converted class audio into legible notes—had become my savior. I was grateful I had enough foresight to install it before, although I had previously used it for listening to my notes while working or doing chores.
The professors didn’t seem too sympathetic, and missing classes at this point in the semester, any more than I already had, could’ve spelled disaster. Especially now, with finals looming and my graduation on the line.
It was supposed to be a triumphant year. The end of the road. Closure. Freedom.
And yet… it didn’t feel like any of those things.
I was graduating soon. That was a fact. But what came after?
Before all this, I had a plan. A very practical, normal, painfully predictable plan. Finish my degree. Apply to every car manufacturing company that would take me—Velhaven Motors, MobiLux Auto, even maybe an internship at LEGACY if I got lucky. My dream had always been to design my own line of vehicles, something sleek yet affordable, but I’d been realistic.
A stable corporate job was always the safer route and honestly the ONLY route for me. Maybe do some freelance designing on the side. But that was it. I still had a debt to pay and I couldn’t afford to waste my time and energy on unpaid internships and building more experience or connections.
But then Nikolai entered the picture.
And the plan? It twisted. Morphed.
At first I had believed that by the end of the year I would have saved enough to pay the debt and then I would have a little freedom to explore the job market and do what I wanted. After all, my monthly allowance of ten thousand would end after our divorce. So I would still need a proper job soon after.
But then that conversation in the car happened, the one I kept playing in my head like a broken vinyl. What if we don’t divorce?
He’d said it. He’d meant it.
So now what?
What the fuck was I supposed to do now?
My original plan had never included being the wife of a billionaire with enemies. Even with Dmitri, nothing was ever this highkey. I didn’t have to worry about constant eyes on me when I went out. Nor think about people constantly mentioning me in news articles, etc. But I knew even this was very controlled by Nikolai. He tried to always keep things as lowkey and comfortable for me as he could.
But that didn’t change the fact that even he kept people around me. Yes, I hadn't met them yet. But he definitely had people following me around.
Anyways, back on topic. How was I supposed to think straight when just one glance from him made my knees buckle harder than a worn-out suspension spring?
I sighed and adjusted the throw pillow under my arm, shifting on the couch. My hands still throbbed sometimes, but the itching beneath the bandages told me they were healing. Thank god. Because if I had to deal with Princess for even one more day, I might actually combust.
Yes. That was her real name. I had asked her.
Princess.
Who the hell named their kid Princess?
Okay, fine. She was a competent nurse. Very sweet, actually. Attentive, efficient, didn’t hover unnecessarily—but the way she looked at Nikolai. Like he was a slice of forbidden chocolate cake and she was on a diet that she was dying to cheat on.
I hadn’t said anything out of politeness. Or maybe because I didn’t want to give him reason to call me ‘jealous and insecure.’ Like Dmitri used to.
But earlier this week, I overheard her talking to her friends on the phone. Not in person—on speaker, like a moron. Laughing and giggling about how hot my husband was. My husband.
She hadn’t said it to my face, no. But did it really matter?
I hadn’t called her out for it. Mostly because I didn’t want to cause unnecessary drama. But as soon as the bandages were off, she was out. That was the deal.
“Elena?”
Speak of the devil.
I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself.
Princess sauntered into the living room, hips swinging slightly more than necessary, and my brows climbed of their own accord. Her uniform today wasn’t her usual blue scrubs. No, now it was pink. Not just pink—tight pink. Clinging to her like a second skin. Her long, brown hair was still damp, clearly just washed, but now styled into a glossy blowout that framed her face like she was about to audition for a shampoo commercial.
She gave me a bright, dimpled smile.
“Should I do your hair now?” she asked, her voice sweet. “It’s still wet, and I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
I didn’t want her anywhere near me actually.
I forced a neutral tone. “No thanks, I’ll let it air dry. Leave the brush on the sofa.”
She blinked, clearly not expecting the cold response. “Are you sure? I can do it—”
The bell rang.
And she lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree.
Before I could even blink, she spun on her heel and hurried toward the door, practically prancing.
I grit my jaw so hard I thought my teeth might crack.
What was this? A porno? “Hot Cheating Billionaire Husband Comes Home to Sexy Nurse”? Where were the cameras? The sultry soundtrack? And seriously, what happened to workplace professionalism?
And then he walked in.
And just like that… my irritation melted.
Nikolai stood framed in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in his usual business casual—dark slacks, white button-up shirt rolled at the sleeves, a black coat draped over his forearm. He had a bouquet in one hand. Deep red roses wrapped in brown parchment and twine.
And my breath caught.
He moved straight toward me like I was the only thing in the room. As if Princess didn’t even exist.
“How was your day?” he asked, crouching slightly so he could look at me on eye level. His fingers brushed my cheek, lingering like he didn’t want to let go.
I didn’t even try to hide my glare as I side-eyed the nurse, who was hovering behind him with her lip caught between her teeth and her hands clasped like she was attending a wedding.
“Not great,” I muttered, shifting dramatically under the blanket. “I’m exhausted. And cold. My hair’s wet.”
My tone was coy. Bordering on a whine.
We did this now.
Not the fake flirting from before. Not the strategic banter laced with contractual obligation.
This was different.
Real.
And it made my heart thump like a damn war drum.
Nikolai’s brow furrowed immediately. “Why’s your hair wet?” His head turned slightly, eyes narrowing. “And why the hell is the AC on?”
I shrugged innocently.
He turned sharply to Princess, who visibly tensed.
“And why is your hair open like that?” His voice turned clipped. “It’s unhygienic to be around food or patients with your hair down.” Well…I wasn’t exactly a patient but….
Her eyes widened, and for a second, she actually looked flustered.
“Oh—um—I wasn’t cooking! I just showered—”
“That’s not the point,” he cut in, voice cool, tone edged with ice. “Professional aries are non-negotiable.”
I bit back a smirk.
Oh, honey. You picked the wrong man to flirt with.