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TARAJI

T he shrill ring of her phone cut through the silence of Taraji's apartment. Jerome's name flashed across the screen, and against her better judgment, she answered.

"Hello?" Her voice came out smaller than intended.

"You think you're so fucking special now, don't you?" Jerome's voice sliced through the line, each word dripping with venom. "Getting cozy with the boss? I heard you in his office today."

Her blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid. You're nothing but a cheap fuck to him. Once he's done with you, he'll throw you away just like I did."

The call ended before she could respond, leaving her with nothing but the hollow echo of his words. Taraji curled into herself on the couch, an oversized hoodie swallowing her frame as she hugged her knees to her chest. Hot tears streamed down her face, her eyes growing red and puffy.

With trembling fingers, she scrolled through her contacts and paused at Nikolai's name. Before she could overthink it, she pressed call .

"Taraji?" His deep voice answered after two rings, concern evident immediately. "Is everything alright?"

"I—" Her voice cracked. "I'm sorry to bother you."

"You're never a bother. What's wrong?"

The gentleness in his tone opened the floodgates, and she found herself explaining through sobs about Jerome's call.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Nikolai said firmly. "Just breathe for me, okay?"

What she didn't know was that Nikolai was already outside her building, sitting in his car, watching her apartment windows. He'd followed at a distance after work, worried about her after noticing how distracted she seemed all day.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, a knock sounded at her door. Taraji opened it to find Nikolai holding a bag of takeout and a soft, plush blanket.

He stepped inside, his gaze softening as he took in her tear-streaked face. Without a word, he set the food on her coffee table and knelt before her, his thumb gently brushing away the wetness on her cheeks.

"You don't have to be strong for me, baby girl. Not tonight."

Something about his voice, the deep, soothing tone and the way "baby girl" rolled off his tongue, made Taraji's defenses waver. He wrapped her in the blanket, settling beside her on the couch.

"Let Daddy take care of you now."

He opened a container of ice cream and scooped a spoonful, holding it to her lips. When her hands trembled too much to hold the bowl herself, he cradled it for her. Each time she shied away or tried to apologize for her tears, he shushed her softly, drawing her head to rest against his chest.

"You're safe with me. You can let go."

Taraji felt an unfamiliar comfort wash over her as she leaned into his gentle authority. For the first time in years, she allowed someone else to soothe her pain, to carry the weight she'd been shouldering alone .

"Thank you, Daddy," she whispered, the words feeling right on her tongue.

He kissed her forehead, a smile playing on his lips. "Always."

As the evening wore on, Taraji remembered her upcoming presentation. Anxiety bubbled up inside her, and she began pacing the room, her thumb finding its way to her mouth, a childhood habit she'd never fully broken.

Nikolai noticed immediately. He reached for her, pulling her onto his lap and retrieving a coloring book and pack of crayons from her coffee table.

"Let's take a break, little one. Daddy knows what you need."

She giggled, feeling tension melt from her shoulders. She selected a crayon, and he watched her color, his hand stroking her curls in a rhythm that calmed her racing thoughts. When she finished a page, he made a show of inspecting it, his eyes bright with admiration.

"Such a good girl. You did so well, baby."

Taraji couldn’t help but beam under his praise, pride and relief replacing her earlier anxiety. She sank deeper into his embrace, comforted by the playful ritual and his quiet words of affirmation.

When the hour grew late, Nikolai kissed her goodnight, promising to see her at tomorrow's presentation. As he left, Taraji felt lighter than she had in months, the memory of Jerome's call fading against the warmth Nikolai had brought into her evening.

…

The next day, Taraji arrived at the office early, her presentation materials meticulously organized.

She smoothed her pencil skirt with trembling hands, the weight of expectation pressing on her shoulders.

The boardroom gradually filled with executives and team leads, their murmured conversations creating a low hum of anticipation .

When Nikolai entered, the room quieted. He nodded at several people before his eyes found Taraji's. The subtle wink he gave her sent a wave of confidence through her body.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, settling at the head of the table. "Today Ms. Briefs will present her marketing strategy for the Delirious account."

Taraji rose, her spine straight as steel. "Thank you, Mr. Volkov." She connected her laptop to the projector and began.

As she spoke, her initial nervousness melted away. Her voice grew stronger with each slide, her gestures more assured. She fielded questions with precision, her research thorough enough to anticipate every concern.

From his seat, Nikolai watched her with barely concealed pride. Her transformation from the tearful woman on the couch last night to this confident professional captivated him. When she concluded to a round of approving nods, his was the loudest applause.

"Exceptional work, Ms. Briefs," he said, his professional tone belied by the warmth in his eyes. "I believe the Delirious team will be very pleased."

The meeting dispersed, and Taraji gathered her materials, still riding the high of her success. Nikolai approached as the last executive left the room.

"I knew you'd be brilliant," he murmured, close enough that only she could hear. "You deserve to celebrate. Dinner tonight?"

Taraji's cheeks warmed. "I'd like that."

"Eight o'clock. I'll send a car." His fingertips brushed her hand, a touch so brief it might have been imagined. "Wear something nice."

…

True to his word, a sleek black car arrived at her apartment that evening. The driver escorted her to an exclusive restaurant downtown, where Nikolai waited at a secluded table, standing as she approached.

"You look stunning," he said, his gaze traveling appreciatively over her emerald dress.

"Thank you." She smiled, taking in his tailored suit. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

They settled into easy conversation as they enjoyed the exquisite meal.

"To your success today," Nikolai raised his wine glass. "The first of many."

Their glasses clinked, and Taraji felt a flutter in her chest at the intensity of his gaze.

"The team seemed impressed," she said modestly.

"They were blown away," he corrected. "As was I. You have a gift, Taraji."

His praise warmed her more than the wine. As the evening progressed, their conversation grew more intimate, charged with unspoken desire.

When dessert arrived, Nikolai watched her savor the first bite of chocolate soufflé, his eyes darkening as her lips closed around the spoon.

"Would you like to continue this at my place?" he asked, his voice a shade deeper. "I have an excellent view of the city."

Their eyes locked, the invitation clear in his gaze. Taraji set down her spoon deliberately.

"I'd love to see your view," she replied, the double entendre hanging between them.

…

The ride to his penthouse was silent, thick with anticipation. In the elevator, he stood close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, but he didn't touch her. The restraint in his posture spoke of a man holding himself in check .

When the doors opened directly into his penthouse, Taraji gasped. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a glittering panorama of the city below.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, moving toward the glass.

"Not as beautiful as you," Nikolai said, coming to stand behind her.

His hands settled on her waist, and she leaned back against his chest. The cityscape blurred as his lips found her neck, and all thoughts of the view disappeared as he turned her in his arms.

"I've wanted you since the moment you walked into my office," he confessed, his thumb tracing her lower lip.

Taraji's heart thundered in her chest. "I'm yours," she whispered.

His kiss was gentle at first, then consuming as he swept her into his arms and carried her toward his bedroom.