I felt like a thief caught in the act; the phone nearly slipped from my grasp. I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat, and held it up, turning the screen toward him.
"Who is she?" My voice trembled, but I forced myself to meet those fathomless green eyes. "Who's N. Ivanova? What day is she looking forward to?"
He pushed off the doorframe, walking toward me with measured steps, each one radiating an invisible pressure. He didn't even glance at the phone—just stared into my eyes, as if trying to see right through me. He took it from my hand, looked at the screen briefly, then tossed it onto the bed. The whole motion was swift and composed. There was no trace of panic on his face, as if the message were a figment of my imagination or utterly insignificant.
"A business partner," he said evenly. "We've had some dealings lately. That's all."
"A business partner whose chat history you delete?" I shot back with a cold laugh, the sarcasm practically dripping from my words.
He finally furrowed his brow, as if accusing me of being unreasonable. He sighed, then reached out with a helpless air, his calloused thumb sliding from my cheek to my lips, rubbing them gently, trying to soothe my anger with his usual tenderness. "Don't overthink it,Elena, okay?"
I jerked my head away, evading his touch, my body instinctively retreating.
"Don't touch me!" My lungs felt like they might burst, each word torn from my throat. "You always have so many secrets, so many business partners! What do you take me for? Some idiot you can deceive whenever you want?"
His eyes darkened instantly, the green deepening into something shadowy and dangerous. I expected him to explode, to overpower me with his logic and force me to back down. But he didn't. His body relaxed in a split second, as if he'd made a decision.
He stepped past me, picked up his suit jacket from the chair, and slowly drew a deep blue velvet box from its pocket.
"I don't want our night ruined by irrelevant stuff," he said softly, turning to me before opening the box and holding it out. "An early Christmas gift for you."
Nestled inside was a bracelet I'd admired in magazines countless times. It was made of tiny, specially cut white gold leaves linked together, each one embedded with a shard of diamond. Under the light, it shimmered like an entire galaxy captured in metal, breathtakingly brilliant.
I remembered casually saying in front of him once, "God, that's a work of art," too intimidated to even peek at the exorbitant price tag.
"You gushed about it last time, stared at it for ages," his low voice murmured in my ear, tender yet lethal.
My heart wavered shamefully amid that radiant glow. This man remembered my offhand remark, went out and bought something I'd only dared to dream about. How could someone who didn't love me do that? I desperately wanted to believe this version, not the cold reality of that phone screen.
It was like a lifeline, and I clung to it for dear life.
He took the bracelet from the box and fastened the delicate clasp around my wrist himself. The cool metal against my skin sent a shiver through me.
"Igor..." My voice softened.
"Like it?" He lifted my hand and pressed a light kiss to my wrist, right where the bracelet gleamed.
I nodded, gazing at the starry band on my skin, my eyes growing hot.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice thick with self-reproach. "I shouldn't have doubted you."
"No," he said, pulling me into his arms, his chin resting on top of my head. "It's my fault, Elena. Just... my line of work means some things are better left unknown for you."
That excuse again, but I didn't probe further. I knew he loved me, and that was enough.
He kissed my hair, then my forehead, the tip of my nose, and finally my lips. The kisses started feather-soft, but soon they shifted, intensifying. His hands slipped under my nightgown, wandering over my bare skin.
"You've still got energy to be pissed," he murmured, nipping at my earlobe, his hot breath grazing my neck. "Guess I didn't wear you out enough earlier."
With that, he lifted me onto the bed, his massive frame pressing down on me.
He kissed me deeply, his tongue plunging into my mouth with a raw hunger that made my head spin. I melted beneath him, my doubts evaporating in the fire of his touch. His lips moved down my neck, sucking and biting with just enough force to mark me, reclaiming every inch.
His hands cupped my breasts through the thin fabric of my nightgown, kneading them firmly. I gasped as he pinched my nipples, twisting them between his fingers until they pebbled into stiff peaks. "Fuck, Elena, these tits drive me insane," he growled, his voice husky with desire. He dipped his head, his mouth latching onto one breast, sucking hard through the silk. His teeth grazed the sensitive tip, nipping lightly at first, then sinking in deeper, making me arch off the bed with a cry.
"Oh God, Igor..." I moaned, my fingers threading through his still-damp hair, pullinghim closer.
He switched to the other side, giving it the same relentless attention, his tongue swirling and flicking over the fabric. The material grew drenched from his saliva and my building arousal, clinging transparently to my flushed skin. He kept going, rubbing, licking, and biting until my chest was a slick, throbbing mess, every nerve ending alive and screaming for more.
