Bound by lies Trapped by Desire novel Chapter 31

Chapter 31

1 frowned, the memory of touching that spot carlier flashing through my mind.

“Nikolai?” I called out.

He didn’t answer at first. He just stood there, still.

“Hm?” he finally responded, almost like he’d forgotten where he was.

“Are

you… okay?” I asked, stepping toward him, my concern rising.

He turned to face me,

slowly, and something flickered in his eyes–guilt? Regret? Whatever it was, it vanished quickly. He crossed the room in two quick strides and pulled me int

a hug so sudden, so tight, I barely had time to react.

My heart jumped in my chest.

What the hell?

“What are you doing?!” I exclaimed, hands awkwardly stuck between us.

It felt… intimate. Strangely more intimate than sex. Because this? This was raw emotion.

“I’m sorry, Malishka, he whispered.

I froze. I hated how that word

made me

feel.

“For what?” I asked quietly. He hadn’t done anything but help me.

He pulled back slightly, enough to look me in the eyes.

“For everything that happened. For my family. For Dmitri. You didn’t deserve that.”

It was genuine. So painfully sincere I could barely hold his gaze.

I huffed, trying to mask how overwhelmed I felt. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. Honestly, I should be the one apologizing. That must suck.”

He laughed at that–a real one. And I found myself smiling too.

He turned around, grabbing the phone on the wall.

“Hungry?”

I nodded immediately.

“Chinese?”

“Yes, please.”

You’ve got a shitty family.

Nikolai ordered quickly, then joined me on the couch facing the television. His room was massive, but his TV faced the couch instead of the bed. Which I found slightly weird.

When the food arrived, we spread it out over the coffee table. We spent the next two hours binge–watching The 100 on Netflix. I had no idea he liked survival sci–fi too. Every now and then, we’d bicker over which characters we liked, argue about who was hotter Bellamy obviously won. I hadn’t laughed like that in a long time.

By the time the clock struck 2 a.m., I could barely keep my eyes open and I once again drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, I woke to the scent of warm vanilla.

I rolled out of bed, still wearing one of Nikolai’s oversized black shirts, and padded down the stairs, yawning. The kitchen came into view and I stopped, blinking in disbelief.

There he was.

Wearing nothing but an apron over his bare chest, flipping waffles onto a plate.

He turned and smiled when he saw me.

“Good morning, Malishka. Syrup or ice cream with your waffles?”

2/3

8:41 PM

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