Page 54 of The Russian's Bought Bride

For a brief second, his eyes soften when they land on me, then it’s gone again.

My stomach sinks, and I immediately abandon my carefully crafted opening line for something less explosive.

“Hey,” I say carefully.

“Hey.”

His voice is level yet more forced than usual, like he’s trying to convince both of us he’s perfectly fine.

Nikolai shrugs off his jacket and sets his keys down on the counter before loosening the collar of his shirt slightly, andthe movement exposes faint scratches creeping down his neck toward his shoulder from last night. Heat instantly creeps into my face before irritation follows right after it.

Regardless of the evidence, he’s acting like nothing happened, as if he can just compartmentalize all of this and move on, while I’ve been stuck on it all day.

At first, I want to sit in that anger, but my curiosity and mild concern win out.

“You okay?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then murmurs, “I’m fine.”

Without having to search too deeply, I can already tell it’s a lie. Even if I shouldn’t, I press.

“What happened?”

“Work.”

He gives me a vague, dismissive one-word answer, and I stare at him for a second longer, waiting for more. Annoyingly, it doesn’t come, and something cold settles uneasily in my stomach.

“Oh,” I say quietly, hoping he might elaborate on his own.

Instead, Nikolai nods once and heads toward the kitchen like that answers everything, and maybe it’s enough for him, but it isn’t for me.

It feels like whiplash, as if we walked away from two very different experiences.

He touched me like I was something precious last night, like all those walls he keeps around himself had finally cracked open enough to let me inside. I never expected him to, but itwas enough of a glimpse for me to feel at ease, and now, they’re slamming right back into place.

The shift catches me off guard more than I want it to, and before I can stop myself, I follow him slowly into the kitchen, watching as he pours himself water without meeting my eyes for more than a second at a time.

He’s retreating, and that shouldn’t be very surprising, but it is.

I can feel it happening in real time, causing insecurity to twist deeply in me.

Was I just a distraction or a release for him? Was last night just some temporary lapse in judgment for him, while I stupidly let myself believe it meant something more?

No…

Forcing myself to pull in a deep breath, I stop the thoughts before they go too far, and I force myself to be rational.

This is exactly what I warned myself about, and exactly why I should’ve been more careful about all of this.

Nikolai comes from a world I don’t understand. It’s one built on secrets, violence, and emotional walls thick enough to survive anything. Men like him probably can’t survive by being vulnerable and open as others can.

I’m an idiot if I start confusing attraction with genuine safety, or lust with care.

He might want me physically, but that doesn’t mean he’s emotionally letting me in any more than he needs to.

The realization stings, but I have to face it anyway.

“So,” I say finally, trying to sound casual despite the tension crawling beneath my skin and how hard my heart isracing, straddling the line of curiosity and overstepping. “What exactly do you do all day?”