Bound by lies Trapped by Desire novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Nikolai’s POV

Damn it.

Heat shot down my spine the moment her eyes locked onto mine. Her expression was a mix of confusion and composure, but her posture was confident as ever as she descended the hospital stairs toward me.

The wind caught strands of her hair, causing them to flutter like dark silk ribbons behind her A slow, inexplicable ache began building in my chest

Her hair. Jesu

Was the some kind of modern–day Rapunzel? Why the hell did she keep it so long?

It trailed past her waist, impossibly thick and gently curled. It should’ve been impractical, maybe even a nuisance. But on her, it looked… ethereal. Like it belonged.

She didn’t look like her mother at all. It was obvious she was adopted. She had features most definitely rooted in a blend of Arabic and Indian heritage. Olive–toned skin that practically glowed in the last blush of sunset, and those moss–green eyes that seemed to pierce straight through you.

Velhaven was a diverse city every street was a melting pot of cultures–but even in that chaos, Elena stood out. Not because she was flashy, or overtly sexy. But because she didn’t try to fit in. She just existed in a way that demanded attention without asking for it

She wasn’t petite or delicate. She wasn’t some leggy socialite with fake lashes and expensive fillers. She was five–foot eight, grounded in her own skin. Confident. And real.

I liked that

My neck didn’t ache trying to look down at her. I didn’t need to slouch to meet her eyes–nor would I have to slouch to kiss her.

Not that I had thought about doing that.

Okay that was a blatant lie.

I had thought about kissing her. MANY times. Most often in the presence of her boyfriend–my brother.

“Earth to Nikolai.”

Her voice cut through the fog. She waved her hand in front of my face, a teasing sanile playing at her lips.

Shit. I’d been staring-

The words tumbled out before I could stop them

“Why are your hair so long?”

She blinked. The smile dropped for a second, replaced with surprise. Her brow lifted.

I cursed under my breath. What the fuck was that, Nikolait Smooth. Real smooth

“Never mind,” I muttered quickly, running a hand through my hair. That was rude. I’m sorry. Let’s get in first”

I moved quickly, opening the passenger side door for her. She slid in without a word, and I circled around to the driver’s seat, silently berating myself.

The car ride started off quiet Too quiet. The tension hung between us like a thread pulled too tight

Contrary to what most people thought. I wasn’t that hot, calm, sensible and always put together rich man. Except for the last part, I was rich. Other than that? That was just a carefully crafted lic. Because I was a socially awkward person from the inside.

I didn’t try to be like that on purpose. No one did, of course,

Being a social butterfly just never came to me. So I chose the poker faced persona to mask my obviously messy personality

The city lights blinked past the window as I turned onto the main road. My fingers drummed the steering wheel, searching for something: anything to diffuse the awkwardness

She beat me to i

To be honest. I’m not quite sure either

4:34 PM

Chapter 8

Her voice was soft, thoughtful I glanced sideways at her.

“What?”

“My hair. You asked. I’m not sure why I keep it long. She paused, fiddling with a loose strand. “My childhood is mostly a blur. But I remember being told that I wasn’t born here. That I came from somewhere far away. The orphanage ladies used to talk about it. Later, when Mom and I did a DNA test, we found out I’m mostly South and West Asian. Heavy Indian lineage.”

So my guess was correct

“Mom was a bit heartbroken. That I never got to experience any of that culture. So she did her research. Tried to bring little pieces of it into our lives. Like clothing, jewelry and their cultural food. In South Asia, long hair is a traditional sign of beauty, so she asked if I wanted to grow mine

She gave a small, almost nostalgic laugh. “And I said yes

*So you kept it for her?” I asked, my voice low.

There was a pause. Then she added, almost bitterly, “Even though I wanted to look like her. Not like… strangers who never gave a damn about me Her words stuck with me longer than they should have.

I shifted in my seat. “Well, this is just my opinion, but I think she just wants you to be happy. As for being similar to her. I haven’t met her, so can’t say much. But since she’s the one who raised you, I don’t think you need to worry about not being like her.”

She turned to look at me then, eyes narrowing slightly in consideration. A flicker of surprise. Curiosity. And something else I couldn’t quite name I couldn’t help but smile

Dating had never worked for me, I wasn’t built for emotional connections. I’d tried–three times too many. They all ended the same. The spark fizzled. The women got clingy, demanding more. More time, more attention, more things I wasn’t able to give. Even the money I gave to them wasn’t enough and they ended up leaving me for other men because I wasn’t ‘emotionally available enough.

I knew that made me a shitty person. I hated that I had inherited this toxicity from my father I knew that just because I didn’t cheat on them didn’t make me a good person

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