Page 65 of Captured Obsession

A delectable smell reaches my nose, and I follow it toward the kitchen. That is until I glance out the glass doors that lead to the balcony, where I spot Nikolai with his back to the city, looking down at what appears to be a newspaper.

It’s a strange image. He almost looks like a civilized man, if it weren’t for all the tattoos covering his bare chest. That low throb begins between my legs once again.

When I open the door, he looks up, and the fire in his eyes reignites. It’s the same way he was looking at me last night.

“Strange to see you reading a newspaper,” I say.

The city is loud and chaotic. It’s something I appreciate about it most. The urgency to move and make the most of every day. To be as busy and successful as the next person.To be important.Now itfeels like background noise, and I miss the quiet of Europe.

He closes the newspaper and folds it over. “I’m disappointed in what you Americans deem as newsworthy. This is all gossip.”

A smile stretches my lips. “Ah, but we live for gossip here.” If anything, I might’ve been one of the worst perpetuators of it once, but I no longer feel as interested in such trivial things. Perhaps after I endured my own public shame blasted everywhere, I realized the cruelty of it. Even when I once thought it was harmless.

“Come here,” he says, splaying his knees a little more.

“Isn’t it bad if Andrei sees?” I ask quietly.

He glares at me, not leaving room for negotiation. I do as he says, because in truth, I want to be close to him. The moment I perch on his lap and he casually wraps his arms around my waist, my body sinks against him.

He makes me feel like I’m wanted and needed, opposed to simply being some kind of accessory. It shames me to compare this to what I once thought was the love of my life before I came to realize how shallow it was. Especially when I’m finding a spark of something else in a place I should least be searching for it.

Nikolai runs his fingers through my hair. “Your hair is diabolical this morning.”

I slap him on the chest. “Shut up.”

He chuckles, but when Agata walks out with a tray of food, I’m quick to jump to my feet and brush over my sweatpants, as if I’d accidentally fallen into his lap.

“Good morning, Agata,” I say with a smile, one which shealmostreflects back.

“Good morning, miss,” she says as she sets the tray on the table. “I brought you some black tea, some scones, and jam. Just a light breakfast this morning.”

I take the seat across from Nikolai, and my mouth salivates at the food. “Did I have ingredients for this in the pantry?” I ask.

I’d tried cooking lessons a few times, in an attempt to be the ideal fiancée. However, of all the things to come naturally to me, this was not one of them.

A buttery scone first thing in the morning is definitely not something I’d ordinarily choose for myself; however, I take into consideration all the exercise I got last night. Surely, one scone won’t hurt, and will help replenish after such strenuous activities.

“Yes, miss. The few ingredients you didn’t have, I’ve stocked.”

“Oh.” Everyone has been busy around me, and I’ve been … well, doing the same thing I’ve been doing for weeks. Which is nothing. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, the guest room is most accommodating. Though, when I woke this morning, I noticed one of the rooms was unoccupied.” She gives Nikolai a pointed look, who doesn’t see it, as he’s gone back to reading the newspaper.

Beneath the table, I rub my foot against his inner calf. His gaze lifts over the top of the newspaper, those green eyes glistening lighter in the morning sun. I bring my foot up to his crotch, my toes brushing against his cock in secret.

“Well, I for one had a wonderful sleep. Thank you for organizing this lovely meal. Perhaps you would like to join us?” I offer her.

Nikolai grabs my foot and squeezes. My heart jolts as he begins to knead all the way from my toes to my calf.

Agata pours black tea from the pot into a china cup for me. “Oh, no, miss. I couldn’t impose.” She looks at Nikolai once again, and I sense it’s because of the abnormality of this situation. I’m a prisoner, and yet I’m treating them like my guests.

Am I fucked in the head because I’ve strangely become accustomed to having them around, even with all that’s happened?

“Thank you, Agata, this looks amazing,” I say respectfully.

I want to remain in the lightness of the moment. Ignorance is bliss, but it’s also what’s troubled me in the past. Except this time, I don’t think it’s ignorance that has me feeling this way. I think it’s because I’m taking charge of this situation as best as I can.

I know what I want, I think as I glance at Nikolai, who hasn’t stopped looking at me. I just don’t knowhow to keep it. And in the world I live in, there is no place for him.