Chapter 15 Dahlia
DAHLIA
I’ve missed Mika so much that I forget I am not allowed to love him freely—in the open. I immediately slip out of his embrace, looking around to see if anyone caught us. The guards roam the perimeter, seemingly unperturbed by my inner turmoil.
He lets out a harsh breath that redirects my attention to him.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t apologize. Fuck.” He rubs a hand down his face, his features turning to stone.
How I wish to bring him peace when I know I am his chaos—and possibly his destruction.
So selfish. But my love refuses to believe that.
It’s not helping that my brain swims in a cocktail of endorphins, making me act recklessly.
Safely secluded in my delusional bubble, I ignore the fact that it could burst any moment and paint my hands red.
He opens the passenger door and urges me inside.
Behind the tinted glass, I can finally breathe a sigh of relief, knowing we’re safe to indulge in our fantasy, hidden from prying eyes.
“Don’t worry.” He sounds so assured, making me question the reason.
I wish I could discard my worries and simply enjoy this wonderful thing transpiring between us.
Leaning over the center console, he steals a kiss that instantly scatters the thoughts of peril away.
He starts the engine, looking so damn powerful and sexy as he controls this beast of a car.
Driving away, he palms my thigh, his features relaxing with the contact.
“You look spectacular,” he says, glancing my way.
I smile, emboldened by the heated look reflected in his eyes. Under his gaze, I feel beautiful, coveted.
I wear a simple yet sophisticated strapless red mini dress that defines my hourglass figure, embracing the bold side in me I’ve buried for years.
The flattering basque cut accentuates my waist. His gaze lowers from my thighs to my feet clad in delicate sandals with a thin band strapped around my ankles.
It’s a wonder I didn’t break my neck on my run to him.
I offer him a smile. It’s hard to form words when his presence sucks any rational thought, leaving me simply a sensual creature.
As we drive through Reno, I watch as the passersby get ready for the night, unperturbed by anything but having a good time.
I’ve always wanted to visit his place. Even though I know he spends most of his nights at the club. I can’t believe he skipped his routine to be with me, and a surge of giddiness spreads through me.
Yet worry nags at me, making me chew on my bottom lip. “I hope I’m not keeping you from something important.”
“You’re my most important something,” he says, each letter infused with determination.
I giggle. “Good to know.”
He runs his hand absentmindedly up and down my thigh, creating flames that flicker under his touch. Only he can make me burn up with passion.
“I’m going to make you lose your mind tonight,” he says low.
A shiver of impatience skitters down my spine.
When we reach the wrought-iron gates, the grand white mansion topped by a gray roof comes into view. It’s a two-story residence with imposing stone columns supporting the front, situated in the middle of acres of scenic landscape.
The wild vegetation surrounds us, offering an unobstructed view of the valley, mountains, and city from every angle.
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.
“What did you say?” I ask, sipping from my glass of wine to hide my nerves.
He jerks his chin at me. “That you’re a curious kitten.”
I roll my eyes at him, and he grips my chin. “Don’t do that again. It makes me want to bend you over this table and spank your ass red.”
I arch an incredulous brow. “Something tells me you don’t need much of a push to want that.”
Laughter rocks his chest, the deep sound reverberating through me.
As the staff carries the main plates to the table, the housekeeper remains frozen at the door, eyeing him through glistening eyes.
He laughs way too seldom. I know, I want to tell her, but remain silent.
Placing a hand on her chest, she smiles at me in pure gratitude.
This one reaches her eyes—a genuine, warm one.
Thanking them both, they nod our way before leaving us alone.
“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?” he asks.
I have been in a self-imposed prison for years. For a long time, my life consisted of just getting through one day at a time. Now the possibilities seem endless.
“Paris.” That’s the first thing that pops in my mind.
“Why Paris?”
I sigh dreamingly. “Fashion, food, architecture. Do I need to go on?”
“No, I think those were good reasons.”
He cocks his head, contemplating me before he takes my hand. Bringing my fingertips to his mouth, he places sweet kisses on each before kissing my palm.
“Your reputation might be at risk if someone sees you like this,” I tease him, my skin alive with goose bumps.
He regales me with a charming grin. “My reputation is already fucked. Might as well enjoy it.”
I shake my head at him, stifling my smile.
Why couldn’t I be someone different?
After the main course, giddiness spreads through my senses, awaiting the dessert. The rich scent of the chocolate mousse with a strawberry sauce reaches my nostrils, and my mouth waters. Closing my eyes, I savor every bite, the sweet taste invading my mouth.
“Stop moaning like that, baby girl, or you won’t get to finish it,” he groans as if in pain.
I do it on purpose just to mess with him.
“That’s it.” He shoots up.
I scarf the last bite and take off, hoping to outrun him. Knowing I can’t.
I don’t even take two steps before he snatches me, snaking his arm around my belly. Pulling me to him, my back hits the granite of his chest, and I expel a long breath.
“If you fell and hurt yourself…” The concern in his voice undoes me.
“You would have spanked my ass red?” I ask, tapping my chin as if in deep thought. That does the trick because it relaxes him.
“Ty stanesh’ moyey smert’yu,” he says in Russian. You’re going to be the death of me.
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes at him. He’s so dramatic.
I palm my chest, batting my lashes at him in faux innocence. “What was that? I’m the sweetest girl?”
He shakes his head at me, groaning low, “No, you are a troublemaker that I’m a total sucker for. That’s what you are.”
I grin as he brings me to the room I had glimpsed earlier. Vases of dahlias scatter around the sparsely decorated room with a bar, a fireplace and a solitary Cheshire leather armchair.
I blink, glancing from the black Steinway in the middle of the space to him. That cost a fortune. It’s one of a kind.
I turn to him, not understanding.