26. Sophie
26
SOPHIE
I sit at one end of the dining table, the sheer distance between me and Maxim making the room feel colder than it is.
The smell of roasted meat, fresh bread, and something faintly herbal wafts through the air, but I’m too tense to enjoy it.
The walls are lined with dark paneling, and heavy velvet curtains frame tall windows that look out onto the moonlit gardens. It’s beautiful in a haunting way, but it does nothing to ease the knot in my stomach.
Maxim sits at the other end, cutting into his steak with the precision of a surgeon.
For a while, the only sound is the faint clink of silverware against porcelain. The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, until I can’t take it anymore.
“Do you need somewhere this big?” I say, gesturing to the room with my fork. “Compensating for something?”
“You’ve seen my cock. Do you think I need to compensate for anything?”
I can’t help but blush. “It’s not exactly homely here, is it?”
Maxim doesn’t look up. “It’s functional.”
“There’s that word again,” I mutter. “Does everything in your life have to be ‘functional,’ or is that just code for ‘soulless’?”
His knife pauses mid-cut, and for a second, I think I’ve crossed a line. But then he sets his utensils down and leans back, his dark eyes meeting mine.
“What do you want me to say, Sophie? That I bought this house with family dinners and warm laughter in mind?”
The bitterness in his tone catches me off guard, and I falter. “I didn’t mean?—”
“You’re here for twenty eight more days,” he continues, cutting me off. “What this house is or isn’t shouldn’t concern you.”
I grit my teeth, swallowing back the retort bubbling on my tongue. He’s so infuriatingly closed off, so cold, and yet there’s a flicker of something—pain, maybe?—beneath the surface that makes me hesitate.
After another tense silence, he sets his fork down and stares at me. “Andrei will want more than words.”
“More than words?” I echo, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“It means we’ll need to be convincing next time we see him,” he says, his tone calm but firm. “We’re having dinner with him soon. He’ll expect to see affection. Trust. You’ll have to act like you actually enjoy being my wife.”
Before I can ask what he means, he stands and moves around the table, his steps slow and deliberate. He stops just behind my chair, and I stiffen, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Let’s test your acting skills,” he murmurs, his voice low and close to my ear. “Convince me you love me.”
I turn to face him, my breath catching as I meet his gaze. His dark eyes are locked on mine, their intensity making it impossible to look away. “Right now?”
“Right now,” he says, his tone a challenge. “If you can’t convince me, how will you convince Andrei?”
“Shouldn’t I be working on that file of yours?”
“You’ve spent three hours on it before being called for dinner. We can spare a few more minutes.”
I swallow hard, my mind racing. Every instinct screams at me to push him away, to refuse, but the flicker of amusement in his eyes makes my blood boil. He doesn’t think I can do it.
“Fine,” I say, standing abruptly. My chair scrapes against the floor, but I barely notice. I step closer to him, tilting my head slightly as I place a hand on his chest. His heartbeat is steady under my palm, a stark contrast to my own.
The tension crackles between us, thick and electric. His eyes flicker to my lips, and I feel a jolt of satisfaction. “How’s this for convincing?” I ask, my voice steady despite the way my stomach flips.
Before he can respond, I close the distance, pressing my lips to his. The kiss is impulsive, fueled by defiance and adrenaline, but it shifts immediately. His hand moves to the small of my back, pulling me closer, and the kiss deepens, turning into something I can’t control.
When we finally pull apart, I’m breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. Maxim’s expression is unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something—respect, maybe?—in his eyes.
“Not bad,” he says quietly. “But you’ll need to be more convincing. Do it again.”
I glare at him, stepping back quickly. “Don’t push your luck.”
His smirk returns, infuriating and entirely too self-assured. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I smile, feeling a rush of confidence surge through me. I lean into him ever so slightly, allowing my lips to graze against his ear as I whisper, "I think it’s your turn now."
His hand slides around my waist, pulling me flush against his body. The heat radiating from him seeps into my skin, making me feel alive. And then, without warning, his lips crash into mine, demanding and insistent.
The kiss is electric, a shockwave of sensation that jolts through my entire body. Every nerve ending in my body comes alive, sparking with pleasure that radiates from my lips all the way down to my core.
My hands instinctively wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in his dark hair as I press myself closer, desperate to feel more of him.
The taste of him, a mix of vodka and something uniquely masculine, drives me wild. I moan softly into his mouth, the sound muffled by our entwined lips.
His tongue seeks entry, and I open for him eagerly, our tongues dancing together in a frantic rhythm.
When we finally pull apart, both of us breathless, I can see the surprise in his eyes. They soften for a moment, a rare vulnerability shining through the normally hard exterior.
"Sophie," he growls, his voice rough with emotion, "what are you doing to me?"
I trace my fingers along the stubble on his jawline, feeling the roughness beneath my touch. "Just showing you I can act," I reply, my voice steady despite the torrent of emotions roiling inside me.
A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. "Is that so?" he asks, his tone laced with curiosity.
I nod, gazing into his eyes. "I’m not afraid of you, Maxim. In fact, I think you might be a little afraid of me."
“Interesting.” His eyes narrow slightly, but there’s a flicker of respect in their depths. "And why would that be?"
"Because I see you," I say quietly. "I see the man behind the mask, the one who’s terrified of feeling anything. You said your mom was a junkie same as mine. Did you find her body? Was that it? Is that what broke you?"
His expression shifts, something dark and primal taking hold. Before I can react, his hands are on my hips again, pulling me roughly against him. The intensity of his gaze makes my knees weak, but I stand tall, meeting his challenge head-on.
"Tell me you love me."
The words hang heavy in the air, a declaration that could change everything between us. My heart races, and for a split second, doubt flickers in my mind. But then I look into his eyes—eyes that are searching, pleading for assurance—and I know what I have to do.
"I love you," I say firmly, my voice unwavering
For a moment, I think I’ve broken through. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that wasn’t there before, a crack in the armor he wears so fiercely. But then his eyes darken, and he pulls me even closer, our bodies pressed together from chest to thigh.
"Prove it," he whispers, his lips brushing against mine, each word a tantalizing promise.
I smile, my confidence returning in full force. "With pleasure."
Kissing him again, I let my hands trail down his chest. I can feel his hardened muscles beneath his shirt, tensing under my touch.
Each caress elicits a low rumble from his throat, a sign of his growing arousal. I playfully nip at his lower lip, earning a groan from deep within him.
"I can act well when needed," I murmur against his mouth. "Learned it from my mother."
His grip tightens momentarily, but he doesn’t break our kiss. Instead, he presses his forehead against mine, his ragged breath mingling with mine.
"Then show me," he demands, his voice a hoarse command. "Show me everything you’ve got."
I pull back just enough to look him in the eye, maintaining the connection. "As you wish."
With practiced ease, I slide off the chair and kneel gracefully before him. His eyes flare with surprise, but he doesn’t protest as I begin to undo his belt.
Unbuckling it with a swift motion, I slip it free and toss it aside. Next, I release the button on his pants, pulling down the zipper slowly, savoring the control I have in this moment.
I reach into his boxers and take him in my hand. His cock is already hard, throbbing with need as I wrap my fingers around him, stroking gently.
I glance up at him through my lashes, catching the way his jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring with suppressed desire.
"You like that, don’t you?" I purr, nuzzling my cheek against his length. "Like having a strong woman in charge?"
He growls low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through every inch of me. "Goddamn right I do," he rasps, his control slipping further with each passing second. "Now stop teasing and finish what you started."
I smirk, a thrill of power surging through me. Gripping him firmly, I angle my head and take him into my mouth.
The taste of him is intoxicating, a potent blend of musk and urgency that sets my senses ablaze. I swirl my tongue around the tip, tasting the precome that has already begun to form, before sliding him deeper into my mouth.
He groans, his hands fisting in my hair as he tries to maintain some semblance of control.
I move faster, using my tongue and lips to drive him wild, sucking and licking with precision. Each stroke brings him closer to the edge, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.
"Fuck, Sophie," he grunts, his voice strained. "You’re killing me."
I hum contentedly around him, my fingers playing with the base of his shaft as I continue to work him with my mouth. I can feel his thighs trembling, the evidence of his mounting pleasure.
Reaching up, I cup his balls, massaging them gently as I increase the pace, pushing him ever closer to the brink. His head falls back, exposing his throat to my hungry gaze. I nip at the sensitive skin, drawing another sharp intake of breath from him.
"God, I’m going to come," he warns, his voice barely audible. "If you keep doing that, I’m going to?—"
I silence him with a final, deep thrust of my mouth, swallowing around him as I feel his climax building. Moments later, he shudders, his seed filling my mouth as he comes undone with a guttural cry.
“Finish your dinner,” he says.
I lick my lips before replying, “I thought I just did.”