Mihai
MIHAI
I knock on her door, waiting for a beat before she opens it. Maddy stands there, a quiet strength in her eyes that’s somehow even more compelling now that I know she’s found her voice again.
A part of me feels a strange pride, seeing her look like she’s stepping into herself, even after everything she’s been through. But I push that thought down, trying to focus on the reason I’m here.
“I spoke with my father,” I say, watching her expression carefully. “He’ll be here in a few hours.”
She nods slowly, absorbing the news, and I can see the flicker of nerves, the way she bites her lip like she’s gearing up for what’s coming. She’s asked for this, but it doesn’t mean she’s ready to dive into those memories again. I get that.
“You okay?” I ask, softer this time.
She hesitates, then nods. “I think so,” she murmurs, her voice quiet but steady. She shifts, glancing back at her room, and I can tell she’s nervous about more than just the meeting.
“My father…” I start, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to phrase this in a way that doesn’t sound too intense. “He wants me to keep a closer eye on you until he arrives. So… I thought maybe you could stay in my suite. Just until he gets here.”
“In your suite?” she repeats, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You sure you’re up for that?”
I chuckle, scratching the back of my neck. “Yeah, I think I can handle it. As long as you don’t mind, of course.”
She gives me a nod, her expression softening. “No, I don’t mind. Actually, I think I’ll feel safer… with you there.”
I let out a breath, relieved. “Alright then. We’ll head over to my bedroom in a bit. It’s already late, so maybe grab whatever you need, and we can get settled.”
She glances over her shoulder, then nods. “I’ll just have a quick shower if that’s alright?”
“Yeah, of course,” I say, stepping back to give her space. “Take your time. I’ll be here.”
She nods, giving me one last look before disappearing into her walk in and then her bathroom. I let out a breath, leaning against the wall outside her room, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling.
She’s going to be in my space. My room. My bed.
Holy fucking shit.
I run a hand through my hair, thinking about the past few days, the way she looked at me, how she’s started to trust me, how I can’t stop thinking about her, about what she’s been through. She’s finally opening up, finding her voice again, and now she’s going to be sleeping in my fucking bed.
For protection. So I can keep an eye on her. I won’t be thinking about the warmth of her supple body next to me. Or her strawberry scent. Or the fact that I want her so badly I can’t fucking breathe.
Jesus Christ.
What if I can’t keep my distance? I know myself, and I know the way I feel around her, like every second is amplified. Just hearing her voice is enough to throw me off balance, and now I’m supposed to have her there, right within reach?
I can hear the water running in the bathroom, and my mind drifts against my will, picturing her there, the steam rising, droplets of water trailing over her skin.
“Shut the fuck up,” I curse under my breath, trying to shake the image from my head. This is already messing with me, and she hasn’t even stepped foot in my suite yet.
I sit down on her bed, forcing myself to focus on the bigger picture, on the fact that my father’s coming and that Maddy has crucial information.
But instead, all I can think about is her, the way she trusted me enough to open up, the way she looked at me with those big brown eyes like I’m the only one who’s ever made her feel safe.
How she screamed my name, and how I want her to scream it for an entirely different reason.
The sound of the water shuts off, and I realize my heart is pounding. I let out a slow breath, trying to get myself under control.
I clench my fists, trying to rein in the flood of thoughts racing through my mind. This is ridiculous. I’m a Crown. I’m supposed to be composed, focused, and ruthless. I’m not supposed to be spiraling over the idea of a girl—especially not when my father’s coming, not when there’s real business to handle.
I force myself to focus on the floor, on anything but the memory of her soft voice, or the way she looked at me like I was the one steady thing in her life. She’s not here for that.
She’s here because she’s a target— because she saw something that cost her everything. I’m here to keep her safe, keep her focused. I’m supposed to be a damn professional.
This isn’t some romantic setup. She needs protection, and it’s my responsibility to keep her safe.
But that logical reasoning is doing nothing to stop the blood pounding in my ears or the way I can’t stop thinking about what it might feel like to reach out and hold her, to feel her soft skin under my fingertips.
What if she turns to me in the night, trusting me to pull her back from the edge like she did during that panic attack? What if she reaches out to me, finding comfort in my presence, and I lose myself completely?
I hear her rifling through the bathroom cabinets, and I know she’s about to walk out of that bathroom, freshly showered, warm and relaxed. And I’m completely fucking losing it.
There’s a side of her hidden beneath all the pain and trauma, that’s wild and free, and I want to see it—every last piece of her.
The sound of the bathroom door opening snaps me out of my thoughts, and I look up, half-expecting her to step out looking cozy and safe, something easy for me to compartmentalize.
But no—of course not. Life can’t be that simple for fucking Vasile.
She walks out in a black silk robe, and I swear, every thought I’ve tried to shove down comes rushing back, tenfold. The robe clings to her and grazes her legs mid-thigh, showing off smooth, creamy skin and highlighting her softness; every inch begging to be claimed.
My mouth goes dry, and I’m suddenly aware of every single nerve in my body.
All those good intentions? What the fuck are good intentions when temptation is staring me right in the face?
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
She glances at me, a small smile on her face, but I can’t bring myself to look away. I try to find words, anything to break this tension, but all I can manage is a low, rough, “You ready?”
She nods, her cheeks slightly pink, and it only makes her look even more tempting, even more real. I force myself to stand up, taking a step back so I don’t do something stupid like reach for her.
I clear my throat, hoping she doesn’t notice how rattled I am. “Alright, let’s head over.”
Fuck me. I’m in so much fucking trouble.