Down the paved road, path lights are posted on each side.
Guards walk up and down the perimeter with guns strapped at their sides and dogs on tight leashes. In the distance, a large barracks stretches. Most surely for the guards and staff.
Once he parks, Mika rounds the car and opens the door for me, always so attentive. Further on the right, a five-car garage completes the extravagant estate.
I can’t believe I am here.
I imagine this is our home, and my chest fills with melancholy. A web of images spins before my eyes, creating my dream life. We’d watch the sunset, stargaze, and go on long walks.
I don’t let that impossible dream subdue my newfound happiness. Instead, I hold on to the present and keep smiling. He leads me inside with his hand on my bare back.
The hardwood door opens, and a woman welcomes us in. Recognition flares in her eyes as she glances from me to him, her rapid eye movement telling of her disapproval, but she quickly masks her frown.
“Welcome, sir. Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” she asks him in Russian.
He glares at her. “Yes. Don’t meddle.”
Sighing, she steps aside.
I offer her a meek smile. I will let him go when the time comes because his safety matters more to me than my heart’s well-being. But until then, I’m going to enjoy our heavenly togetherness.
The interior is just as magnificent, covered in marble and stone. Polished floors, pristine white walls and a cathedral ceiling from which a chandelier drips with crystals completes the luxurious ambience. The massive windows provide a panoramic view, leaving me breathless.
A bifurcated staircase leads to an upper level. The atmosphere is warm and inviting, the opposite of the dark lair I thought I’d find.
“Dinner will be served shortly,” she says, bowing her head before she disappears down the long corridor. Walking into a room, I peek at the gourmet kitchen adorned with high-end appliances.
Mika gives me a tour that makes me never want to leave his place.
From the wine room, complete movie theater, and an extra living room to the primary bedroom with a large king bed and a fireplace, the refined décor leaves me in awe. The balcony door opens onto a terrace.
The huge walk-in closet has two entries. Heated floors, a warming towel bar, and a jetted tub finish up the bathroom, offering pure decadence.
Like in a trance, I explore the rest of his home. This place is so huge that I could easily get lost.
He guides me back to the living and dining room with a fireplace; the windows offer a spectacular view of the backyard. The terrace opens to the spacious outdoors, where a swimming pool, several chaise lounges, and an outdoor fireplace invite you to relax.
At the table, he pulls the chair out for me, but at the opposite end of the room, I notice a door to a room that wasn’t on my tour.
“That’s for later,” he assures me.
I huff. “I don’t like delayed gratification.”
He chuckles. “You’re going to get used to that, baby girl.”
A wave of desire crashes straight between my legs. My knees weaken, and my breathing comes out in shallow pants.
The smirk he wears is clear proof that he loves to torture me.
Such a cruel man.
The first course arrives, and as I savor the beef tartar, I ask, “Tell me something in Russian.”
“Ya byl sozdan, chtoby lyubit’ tebya. I umru, lyubya tebya.”
I was made to love you. And I will die loving you.
It takes everything in me not to show any reaction.
