Maddy
MADDY
I ’m lying in Mihai’s bed, the room dark except for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.
I had a shower in his bathroom earlier, so now I smell like him and that alone brings me comfort.
The day has been long and heavy, and I’ve been replaying everything that happened, everything Cat said, everything Mihai’s been dealing with. I know he carries it all on his shoulders—responsibility for everyone around him, for things even he can’t control.
I hear the door creak open, and my body tenses instinctively. But then I catch the familiar sound of Mihai’s heavy, tired footsteps, and my chest tightens for a different reason.
The door to his ensuite bathroom clicks shut, and a moment later, I hear the water running. He didn’t even notice me. He must be completely drained and running on fumes. I know he had to talk to Connor, then probably deal with Nikolai, and God knows what else.
I sit up slightly, adjusting the covers around me, and wait. I imagine the weight of all that rage and betrayal sitting heavy on his chest, and I wish I could take some of it off him.
The shower runs for a while, and I can picture him in there, letting the water wash away the grime of the day, trying to clear his head. It’s almost soothing, the steady hum of the water filling the silence of the suite.
Minutes tick by, and then the bathroom door opens again. He steps out, steam trailing behind him, his dark curls damp and clinging to his forehead. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers, his tattoos stark against his tan skin.
He stretches, running a hand through his wet hair, and that’s when he finally notices me. His gaze locks onto mine, and for a second, he looks startled. But then his expression softens, and he offers me a small, tired smile that makes my heart skip a beat.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low, almost husky. He rubs a hand over his face, his lips curving up into something tender. “Didn’t know you were waiting for me.”
I shrug. “Figured you might need someone. How did it go with Cat and Connor?”
“Let’s just say it’s been a clusterfuck.” he mutters, his dark eyes soft despite the tension still clinging to his shoulders. “You didn’t have to stay up for me, you know.”
I shake my head, my voice soft. “I wanted to.”
Then I lift the edge of the blanket, silently inviting him in. His smile widens, and he crosses the room without hesitation, sliding under the covers beside me.
The mattress dips under his weight, and his warmth immediately envelopes me as he wraps his arms around my waist and lays his head on my chest. His curls tickle my chin, and I feel his body relax against mine.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against me. “This is exactly what I needed after this fuck-up of a day.”
My fingers find their way into his hair, curling around the damp strands. I toy with them gently, running my nails along his scalp, and he lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a sigh.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask gently, knowing he probably won’t but offering, anyway.
He shakes his head, his nose brushing against my collarbone. “Not tonight,” he says, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Tonight, I just want this.”
I nod, letting the silence settle around us for a moment. He shifts slightly, angling his face to look up at me. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded, his expression soft and unguarded. He’s never looked more vulnerable, and it tugs at something deep inside me.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he asks suddenly, his voice rough.
I blink, caught off guard. “What?”
His hand comes up, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. His fingers linger for a moment, his thumb grazing my cheek.
“You, in my bed. Touching me like this.” He lets out a shaky breath.
Before I can say anything, he lifts himself slightly, his hand moving to cup the back of my neck. His lips find mine, soft and insistent, and I lose myself in the kiss. It’s not hurried or frantic—it’s slow, deep, like he’s trying to say everything he can’t put into words.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and we’re both breathing harder. “Hmmm. You’re dangerous, Little Rebel,” he mutters, his voice laced with both frustration and awe.
“Dangerous?” I manage to ask, my lips curving up into a small smile.
“Yeah,” he says, brushing his thumb along my jawline. “Dangerous to every bit of control I thought I had.”
I laugh softly, my fingers still tangled in his curls. “Maybe you needed to lose a little control.”
He smirks, his eyes glinting with something playful. “Maybe I did.”
We settle back against the pillows, the tension from before replaced by something lighter, warmer. His head finds its way to my chest again, and I keep stroking his hair, listening to his breathing even out.
“Do me a favor, baby,”
My heart literally jumps out of my chest at the endearment. How did we get to ‘baby’ already?!
“Yeah?”
“Don’t ever use my shower wash again,” he says with a sigh. “I need to smell strawberries when I hold you.”
I laugh softly, unable to help myself. “Strawberries? Really?”
Mihai lifts his head just enough to look at me, his lips quirking into a smirk. “What? It’s a good scent. Sweet. Suits you.”
My cheeks flush, and I roll my eyes, trying to brush off the compliment. “I didn’t take you for the type to care about how I smell.”
He huffs out a laugh, lowering his head back to my chest and his arm tightens around my waist.
“Shows what you know,” he mutters. “I’ve been noticing everything about you, . How you smell, how you laugh, the way you crinkle your nose when you’re focused.”
I freeze, my heart pounding at his words. “You’ve been paying attention?”
“Of course, I have,” he murmurs, his tone softer now. “You’re impossible not to notice.”
I blink at the ceiling, my fingers stilling in his hair. It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that someone like Mihai —a man who seems untouchable, always in control—has been noticing me. Really noticing me.
“I didn’t think…” I start, but the words catch in my throat. “I mean, I didn’t know.”
He lifts his head again, resting his chin on my sternum so he can look at me. His eyes are intense, and they hold me in place.
“That’s the thing, . You don’t realize how much of an impact you make. You think you’re invisible, but you’re not. Not to me.”
The sincerity in his voice leaves me speechless, my cheeks heating under his gaze. He watches me for a moment longer, then smirks, breaking the tension.
“And yeah, I’m serious about the strawberries,” he says, his tone teasing now. “If I have to smell myself on you, it’s going to be for a whole different reason.”
My face goes up in flames, the heat spreading from my cheeks all the way to my ears. I stare at Mihai, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
Did he… did he really just say that?
He smirks wider, clearly enjoying my reaction. His head is still resting against my chest, and the way his dark eyes sparkle with amusement only makes my embarrassment worse.
“You—” I start, but my voice cracks, so I clear my throat and try again. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
He chuckles, the sound low and warm against my skin. “I’ve been told.”
I scowl playfully, desperate to regain some of my dignity. “Well, maybe I won’t let you smell strawberries anymore. Maybe I’ll find something that drives you nuts in a bad way. Like… I don’t know. Cinnamon .”
He raises an eyebrow, his smirk turning downright sinful. “Cinnamon, huh? You sure you want to risk it? That’s another scent I might end up liking.”
I groan, covering my face with my hands. “Why do you have to be so good at this?”
“Good at what?” he asks innocently, though his tone is anything but.
“Making me squirm!” I blurt out, peeking at him through my fingers.
He leans up on his elbows, his face dangerously close to mine. “Oh, baby, I can make you squirm in other ways using only my mouth.”
My breath catches, and I’m momentarily speechless. I’m not sure whether to melt or combust on the spot. Probably both.
His smirk deepens, his gaze dropping to my lips for the briefest second before flicking back up to meet my eyes.
“Fine,” I grumble, not wanting to continue this because I know I suck at flirting. “I’ll stick to strawberries just for you.”
He grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”
I roll my eyes again, but the warmth in my chest doesn’t fade. Mihai rests his head back against me, inhaling deeply, and I feel his body relax further. It’s strange how comfortable this feels—like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
“You’re different, you know that?” he says suddenly, his voice soft.
“Different how?” I ask, my fingers absently threading through his hair again.
“Different from anyone I’ve ever met,” he says, his tone thoughtful. “You’re not trying to impress anyone. You’re just… you. And I didn’t realize how much I needed that until now.”
My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, unsure of how to respond. His words are so genuine, so raw, that they leave me feeling exposed.
“Mihai,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Don’t,” he says, lifting his head slightly to meet my eyes. “Don’t try to brush it off or downplay it. Just let me say it.”
I nod, my chest tightening at the vulnerability in his gaze. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my collarbone, and I feel my heart stutter in my chest.
“I don’t know when or how it happened, but you’ve come to be my calm in the chaos, ,” he murmurs against my skin.
His words hit me square in the chest, and I feel my throat tighten. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close, and he buries his face against my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
There’s something raw and unfiltered about the way he says it, like it costs him something to admit it. I swallow hard, my fingers instinctively stroking through his curls again.
“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.
“For what?” I ask, my own voice just as soft.
“For being here,” he says simply, his eyes locked on mine. “For letting me have this.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that,” I whisper, the honesty of my own words surprising me. “I want to be here, Mihai.”
He tilts his head slightly, just enough to look up at me, his dark eyes studying my face like he’s searching for something.
“Do you?” he asks, and there’s an edge to his voice, like he’s afraid of the answer.
“Yes,” I say firmly, my fingers pausing in his hair for emphasis. “I do.”
His lips twitch into a small, tired smile, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just watches me for a moment, his gaze soft and searching. It feels like he’s trying to memorize me, like he’s storing this moment somewhere deep inside.
Mihai shifts again, propping himself up slightly so he can look at me. His eyes are heavy-lidded, but there’s a clarity in them, a sharpness that cuts through the exhaustion.
“I don’t usually let people in like this,” he admits, his voice low and rough. “Hell, I don’t usually let them get close.”
“I know,” I say, my hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “You don’t have to explain.”
He shakes his head slightly. “No, I do. You need to know. This… whatever this is, it’s not easy for me.”
I nod, letting him take his time. Mihai doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who opens up often—or at all. The fact that he’s doing it now feels significant.
“I’m used to being in control,” he continues, his voice quieter now. “Of everything. My life, my family, my… feelings.” He lets out a bitter laugh, his hand tightening slightly on my waist. “And then you come along, and suddenly, I’m fucking spiraling. All the damn time.”
I bite my lip, unsure of what to say. Part of me wants to apologize, even though I know I haven’t done anything wrong. But another part of me—a quieter, braver part—wants to tell him that I feel the same way.
“I don’t mean to mess with your control,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
He huffs out a laugh, lifting his head just enough to meet my eyes again. “It’s not a bad thing, . It’s just… new.”
I nod, my heart thudding in my chest. “It’s new for me too.”
For a moment, we just look at each other, the silence between us comfortable and charged at the same time. His thumb brushes over my cheek, and his expression turns serious.
“You make it hard to think straight at times.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “I could say the same about you.”
He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, but you’re the one who’s dangerous, remember?”
I roll my eyes, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re the one with the guns, muscles and all the tattoos. I think that makes you more dangerous.”
“Only to anyone who tries to hurt you,” he says, his tone dropping into something more serious.
My breath catches, and the room feels too small, too charged. I glance away, but his hand cups my cheek, gently guiding me back to face him.
“You’re safe here with me,” he says. “Always.”
I nod, unable to find the words to express what that means to me. Instead, I close my eyes and lean into his touch, letting the warmth of his hand ground me.
It feels like a promise, one I didn’t know I needed until now.
Before I can respond, he dips his head, capturing my lips in another kiss. It’s slower this time, less urgent but no less consuming. His thumb brushes against my cheek, and I feel like I’m melting under his touch.
When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine again, his breathing uneven. It feels like he wants to say something else, but instead he settles back against the pillows, pulling me closer so my head rests against his chest this time. His arm wraps around me, holding me firmly but gently, like he’s afraid to let go.
As I listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, I realize how much I needed this too. Not just the comfort, but the connection with someone I never thought would come to be my calm.