"Good girl." The praise made warmth bloom in my chest despite everything. "Now tell me why that's a rule."
He was making me think through it. Making me articulate the reasoning instead of just accepting punishment blindly. The realization made something in me settle slightly.
This wasn't arbitrary. Wasn't about control for control's sake. He needed me to understand.
"Because the Belyaevs want me," I said. My voice was steadier now. "Because something could go wrong. Because I need to be reachable if there's danger."
His hands squeezed my hips gently. Encouraging. "What else?"
I looked at him. Really looked. Saw the tension in his jaw. The tightness around his eyes. The fear he'd been carrying since yesterday when I'd disappeared.
"Because you need to know I'm safe," I whispered. "Because when you can't reach me, when you don't know where I am, you—" My voice broke slightly. "You can't protect me. And that terrifies you."
Something shifted in his expression. Softened. "Yes. Exactly. So when you left yesterday without telling me, what did you do?"
The tears I thought I'd cried out earlier threatened to return. "I put myself in danger. I made you worry. I broke your trust."
The admission made my chest ache. That was the real violation. Not leaving the compound—I'd had legitimate reasons for that. But the not telling him. The ignoring his calls. The forcing him to track me down instead of just asking for help.
I'd tested him. Had manufactured a crisis to see if he'd care enough to come after me.
And he had. But that didn't make it okay.
"Yes," Nikolai said. His voice had gone rougher. "You broke my trust. And major rule violations require consequences. Do you understand why?"
I nodded. Couldn't speak past the lump in my throat.
His hand came up to cup my face. Thumb stroking my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. "I need to hear you say it, Sophie. Tell me why rules need consequences."
The vulnerability of it made me want to look away. But his grey eyes held mine captive.
"Because actions have consequences," I said. Each word felt dragged from somewhere deep. Somewhere I'd been protecting. "Because rules only matter if they're enforced. Because I need to know—"
I stopped. The truth was too big. Too revealing.
"What do you need to know?" he asked softly.
"That you'll follow through." It came out as a whisper. "That the structure is real. That you're strong enough to—to hold the boundaries when I can't hold them myself."
His eyes went dark. Pupils dilating until the grey was almost black. I watched his throat work as he swallowed hard.
"Good girl," he murmured. "Such a good, brave girl for telling me the truth."
Then his hands returned to my hips. His grip firmed.
"Over my lap, devotchka," he said. "Now."
I moved toward him. My legs didn't want to cooperate. My brain was screaming at me to run, to make excuses, to do anything except drape myself over the lap of a man who was about to spank me for the first time in three years.
But I wanted this. Needed this. Had asked for this.
So I lowered myself carefully across his thighs.
He guided me with gentle hands. Positioned me so my upper body was supported by the chair arm, my weight distributed, my hips elevated over his thighs. The position was vulnerable. Exposed. My face heated.
This was happening. This was real.
His hand settled on my lower back. Warm through the cashmere. Grounding. "Breathe, devotchka."
