Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 61: Chapter 61

Elena’s POV:
The silence that followed was electric.
Princess stood frozen, lips parted, slack-jawed in what looked like a mix of shock and awkwardness, her eyes flicking between Nikolai and me as if she wasn’t sure whether to run or cry. I could practically see the gears turning in her head, trying to figure out how to salvage what little dignity she had left.
“I-I didn’t cook anything,” she said finally, her voice trembling slightly, eyes wide with panic. “I was going to, I just... I didn’t know if Elena wanted anything...—”
Nikolai’s face darkened. That dangerously quiet sort of dark that made you lean forward instinctively, as if bracing for a blow you couldn’t see.
“Then what exactly has she eaten since breakfast?” he asked coolly, turning his gaze toward me, his onyx eyes narrowing.
Before she could dig her grave any deeper, I answered. “Don’t get angry at her,” I said quickly, straightening up on the couch. “I wasn’t feeling hungry.”
His gaze cut sharply to mine, brow arching with clear disapproval.
“That’s not the point,” he said, his voice tight. “It’s her job to make sure you eat. Had she prepared something and actually served it to you, I know you would have eaten it just seeing the food.” His eyes flicked back to the nurse, whose face was now pale as a sheet. “She failed to do that.”
I didn’t even try to hide the smile tugging at my lips when I saw Princess mumbling profuse apologies under her breath, her voice barely audible.
Yeah maybe I was being unnecessarily mean, but that’ll at least teach her not to try and flirt with other people’s husbands.
Nikolai just waved a dismissive hand. “Get me a hairdryer.”
Her eyes snapped up. “R-right away.”
She turned and bolted out of the living room faster than I’d ever seen her move.
I took a breath and tilted my head toward him, unable to stop the warmth that bloomed in my chest at the sight of his frustrated face, his furrowed brow, and the way he stood there—towering, protective, mine. “I wanted to have lunch with you,” I said quietly, letting the words hang between us like an offering.
His scowl melted. Slowly. And then he smiled.
That crooked, heart-ruining smile that always hit me harder than I wanted to admit.
“Alright,” he said, stepping closer, voice softening. “Then let’s have lunch together first, before we go to the doctor.”
As he moved toward me, he extended the bouquet—five velvety red roses wrapped neatly in parchment, tied with twine.
My eyes widened. “Is that for me?”
He tilted his head slightly, one brow rising with amused incredulity. “Is there anyone else here I’d rather give these to?”
I barely had time to scoff. “Oh, I don’t know... Little Princess here would probably go crazy with joy if you handed them to her.”
He grinned then. A wolfish smirk that made my pulse spike.
He leaned down over the couch, bracing himself with one hand on either side of me, effectively caging me in. My breath caught as he dipped his head, closing the space between us.
“I’m more interested in what would make my wife go crazy with joy,” he murmured, voice low and velvet-smooth. “Not some wannabe princess.”
And then he grabbed my chin gently, tilting my face up before kissing me.
Not a quick, polite peck.
A kiss.
Deep. Hot. Possessive.
I moaned into it, my body instinctively arching toward him. His tongue swept against mine, igniting something in my core that had been simmering for far too long. The sensation hit me like a tidal wave, drowning out every rational thought. My fingers moved without permission, looping up and around his neck, tugging him down, closer.
We kissed like we were starved. Like we’d been dying for it. And in a way, we had.
It had been over a week since I’d had a real orgasm, and that last one had been in the damn shower while I was still partially concussed and bandaged. And that hadn’t even scratched the itch. Not truly. My body had grown addicted to the high Nikolai gave me, and now that I was healing, I wanted all of it back.
“Damn it, Niko,” I gasped against his lips when we finally pulled away. My heart pounded so loud I could barely hear myself. I was breathless. And so, soaked.
He chuckled, brushing his nose against mine before kissing the corner of my mouth, then down to my cheek. “Patience, Malishka,” he whispered, the word curling around me like heat. “Soon. Very soon, alright?”
Then his lips brushed my ear, and without hesitation, he bit.
I gasped—loud.
Shameless. The man was absolutely shameless.
And then—oh hell—
Princess stood in the doorway.
Her cheeks were flushed red, her expression dazed. Gulping audibly, she stared at us like she couldn’t believe what she’d just seen—or rather, heard. She was still clutching the hairdryer like a lifeline, her knuckles white.
I shuddered.
Her eyes had that look. That glazed-over admiration. And a twinge of something else too. Jealousy? Bitterness?
Before I could say anything, Nikolai—blissfully unaware that we had an audience—said, “So restless, hm? Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you for the past two weeks tonight.”
My soul left my body.
“Nikolai...” I hissed, my voice barely a whisper.
He blinked, his expression shifting as he finally turned toward the doorway.
Realization dawned on him, and he sighed.
Moving back slowly, he straightened and held out a hand. “The dryer?”
She stumbled forward and handed it to him silently.
He nodded once and turned back to me.
Then, like he wasn’t the least bit flustered from getting caught red-handed (or red-lipped, in this case), he reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulled out—
A hair tie.
A literal blue scrunchie.
I blinked. “You’re carrying this around?”
He plugged the dryer in and glanced at me over his shoulder, a lazy grin playing on his lips. “Well, I like having a reminder of you with me while at work.”
My heart squeezed painfully.
Was this man for real?
“Ms. Gonzales,” he said without turning, his voice calm and smooth as glass, “you can begin clearing your personal belongings.”
She froze. “What?”
“We won’t be needing your services anymore. My wife is recovering well.” He turned just enough to catch her reaction. “Thank you for your help.”
Her mouth opened slightly, then closed again. “Oh. I... yes. I’ll just—” She gestured vaguely, then turned and disappeared upstairs.
And then it was just us again.
He ran the warm air gently through my hair, fingers combing through each section as if I were made of glass. The sensation made my eyes flutter shut. It felt good. Comforting. Intimate.
Once my hair was dry, he tied it loosely, then paused—thinking. I watched him as he took a section and began weaving.
“What are you doing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He didn’t look up. “Fishtail.”
“A fishtail braid?” I laughed softly. “When the hell did you learn that?”
“Watched a tutorial.”
My heart skipped.
He’d watched a tutorial. For me?
The image of him—Nikolai Vetrov, billionaire CEO—sitting in some office chair, watching YouTube videos on hair braiding made me want to combust. I was in so much trouble.
Princess returned ten minutes later, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder. She hesitated as she reached the foot of the stairs, watching as Nikolai tied off the end of my braid with the scrunchie in practiced precision. He stepped away then, satisfied.
Without a word, he turned and walked upstairs, passing Princess. When he returned, he had his checkbook.
I watched, as he scribbled something down.
He tore the paper and handed it to her.
Ten thousand dollars.
“Thank you,” he said, offering her a tight smile. “For taking care of my wife.”
She blinked, clearly shocked.
“Should I leave now?” she asked tentatively, clutching the check like it might vanish.
“Yes,” he said, already turning back to me. “You can grab a taxi from outside.”
Dismissed.
Just like that.
He didn’t give her another look as I heard the door click shut as she left.
I pushed myself off the sofa, stretching with a yawn, my joints cracking as I rolled my shoulders. My hands still ached a little, but they were freer now, easier to move even with the bandage on.
I looked at him.
He was already waiting by the door.
I smiled.
“Shall we go?”