Page 29

“Actually…this was…sorta my doing,” I drawled, my tone low and lazy, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

He tilted his head to the side, a bit confused. “You fractured your own rib?”

“Well, not exactly,” I replied, heaving a soft sigh. “I kinda cut him in the face with a dagger I used to cut myself loose.”

Sergei’s brows arched, pride flickering in his gaze.

“I ran, almost got away from him, but then I tripped and fell down a staircase. Fractured my rib and my ankle.”

He chuckled, beaming. “You did good, Ayla.”

My smile broadened, and we just sat there, staring into each other’s eyes in silence.

“I’ll uh…I’ll have a doctor come check you out,” he said, his eyes dropping to my feet. “However, I can fix your ankle if you let me.”

“You can?” I wondered, watching him rise to his feet.

He rolled up his sleeves, walking over to the other side of the bed. “If you’ve lived as long as I have in my world, you tend to pick up one or two survival skills along the way.” He halted at my feet, lowered himself, and gently lifted my injured leg.

I winced at the slight pain surging through me, his hands massaging my foot with expert precision. “Will it hurt?”

He raised his head and met my gaze. “Probably.”

“Probably?” My brows raised. “That wasn’t the answer I was expecting.”

His lips curled into a sly smile, his hands working their magic, each gesture more soothing than the last. I was starting to get comfortable, enjoying the harmless massage, when he said, “Brace yourself,” his tone tinged with a hint of warning.

“What, why?” I questioned, alarmed. My breath hitched, and my eyes went wide with anticipation.

“On three,” he began. “One….”

Honestly, I was lost in the moment; everything was happening so fast that I barely had time to think.

And then came the excruciating pain.

Sergei expertly twisted my ankle, my bones snapping back into place with a sickening crack. I wailed, gripping the sheets, my fingers tugging tighter by the second. The pain was unbearable but also fleeting—it died down within seconds.

“There you go. Good as new,” he said, his tone mild and jovial.

My chest heaved with slow breaths, the pain in my leg suddenly gone.

My ankle felt light, and a wave of relief crashed against me.

My head fell back on a pillow, a chuckle falling from my lips.

“You jerk. What happened to ‘two’ and ‘three’?” I asked, reminding him of how he tricked me into believing he’d crack my foot on the count of three.

Sergei just gave a small smirk and walked over to the table where a breakfast tray was set. He picked it up and strolled back to the bed, then carefully placed it on my lap. “You should eat,” he muttered, his voice calm and soothing.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and scrambled eggs filled the air, tantalizing my senses.

How did he move from an annoying prick to this soft soul treating me like a baby? His actions warmed my heart, and although I tried to suppress my smile, I just couldn’t. I flicked my foot gently, testing if his magic had worked. It did. There was no more pain in my ankle.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on the tray, the spoon clinking softly against the ceramic cup as he stirred the coffee.

Who are you, and what have you done with Sergei Tarasov? I wondered, my cheeks flushing as my fingers pushed some stray strands of hair behind my ear.

A flutter rose in my chest, a swarm of butterflies swirling in my tummy. This version of the cruel man I once loathed was the version deserving of the term “husband.” It was almost like he changed overnight, like my disappearance was the final closure he needed to realize how much I meant to him.

Silence fell in that moment—more comfortable than awkward.

He watched me eat, his eyes masking the vulnerability in their depths.

So far, this was the most decent conversation I’d had with him in a long time, one filled with pure bliss and devoid of hate.

It felt good being myself around him again, and I didn’t realize how much I’d missed having a normal conversation with him until now.

My spoon stopped halfway to my mouth when it hit me that I hadn’t seen my pet yet. “Shit. Max. Where’s Max?” I asked, eyes wide with concern.

“Relax,” he whispered, holding my gaze. “He’s fine. I’ll have Lilia bring him over later. For now, just eat and rest,” he urged with that sweet, husky voice of his.

“Okay,” I muttered under my breath and nodded, refocusing on my food.

Before the end of the day, Sergei arranged for a doctor to come over to the house and examine my ribs. The doctor, a woman, was calm and confident, moving with the kind of precision that told me she was great at what she did.

Dr. Shelly ran a few checks, then applied a cooling gel before wrapping a firm bandage around my ribcage, securing it in place.

I wasn’t entirely sure what treatment she gave me, but I could feel the pain slowly leaving my body, fading like smoke. It was almost like magic. Within a couple of hours, I found myself able to do some of the things I couldn’t do earlier that morning.

Later that evening, I stood at the stone balcony at the top of the mansion—my favorite part of the building.

My hair swirled in the gentle breeze as I cradled Max in my arms, my eyes fixed on the horizon.

The dog’s soft fur brushed against my fingertips as I stroked him in slow and soothing motions.

The golden light of the setting sun bathed everything in its path in a beautiful, warm glow as the sky melted into a canvas of bright colors. Deep purples, pinks, and oranges were streaked with wisps of cloud like nature’s brushstrokes.

Below, the trees swayed in the cool evening wind, the manicured gardens, the vast expanse of land, and the unwinding driveway all bathed in a warm, golden light.

I stood up there, watching this breathtaking view, my mind, for the first time in a long time, quiet and peaceful.

Ironic how the incident I thought would end my life actually found a way to fix it.

Everything seemed to have fallen into place.

My relationship with my family was steady—dare I say, better than before.

Mom and Dad had called my phone about an hour ago, checking in on my health.

Sergei, throughout the day, behaved like the man I once hoped he was. Loving. Calm. Gentle. Was this real? Was this happiness in my heart truly genuine? Did things indeed turn around for the best in less than twenty-four hours?

“Can you believe it, Max?” I murmured, still stroking his fur.

“Just yesterday, I thought my life was over, and today, the universe hands me everything I ever wanted.” I heaved a sigh, lifting my eyes to the sky as if searching for the big guy up there.

“Are you real?” A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “If you are…thank you.”

Someone conspicuously cleared their throat behind me, their sudden sound snapping me out of my thoughts. I turned around, and there he was, my lovely husband, leaning against the wall. The top three buttons of his white shirt were left undone, his sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows.

Max barked once and jumped out of my arms, scurrying over to Sergei and wagging his tail. Sergei crouched down, ruffling his fur before rising and walking over to me.

“Hi,” I greeted him, my voice soft and gentle.

“Hey,” he replied, drawing nearer, eyes locked to mine. He held my hands and pulled me to him, his fingers caressing my hair, his scent filling my senses. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good,” I muttered, lifting my chin, a warm smile spreading across my face. “Dr. Shelly patched me up real nice.” I slowly rolled my neck in response to his fingers digging into my muscles.

He said nothing, but his eyes held the kind of passion that caused time itself to stand still.

The air was charged with tension, his hand around my waist, possessive and protective.

His gaze locked with mine, those gray eyes sparkling with mirth and burning desire.

He traced his fingertips along my skin, his touch igniting a risky flame within me.

I’d almost forgotten just how much I missed this—such intimate moments with the one who owned the keys to my heart.

He leaned in, his face mirroring mine, lips pressed to my forehead, then to my left cheek before hovering over my mouth.

His breath was warm against my skin, his palm clasped gently behind my neck.

My breath hitched in my throat, my heart racing in my heaving chest, swelling with desire. His thumb traced the curve of my lips, slow and deliberate, each stroke lighting a scorching heat deep in my core. My lips parted by a fraction, just enough to accommodate his thumb in my mouth.

I held his gaze, letting him see the desire twisted in my features, the need shimmering in my eyes.

I stared at him with raw hunger, my face flushed and desperate, my breath shallow.

His expression softened, his grip tightening around my waist as he pulled me closer.

The print of his erection grazed my thighs, the friction sparking a burning ache I couldn’t ignore.

He pushed his thumb deeper into my mouth, slow and smooth. I licked it, sucked it, while pretending for a moment that it was his shaft. Still, neither of us broke eye contact. My chest swelled with need, shivers sprinting down my spine as wildfire rushed through my veins.

He withdrew his thumb and then planted his lips on mine.

His kiss stole my breath, forcing my eyelids to slam shut.

Tongues twirled in our mouths, heads tilting to the rhythm of this raw, undiluted passion.

My body trembled at the feeling of his hands all over my body, caressing my curves and contours.

When his hand slid up the hem of my white dress, fingers traveling to my tunnel, my breath hitched.

I flinched for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest as though this was our first time doing it.