26. Veronica
26
VERONICA
T he kitchen is dim and quiet this late at night, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound as I pad across the cool tile floor.
The air smells faintly of chamomile, and I spot Elena at the counter, a steaming mug in her hands. She’s wearing a silk robe, her hair loose around her shoulders, looking every bit like the elegant queen of the Bratva world.
“Elena,” I say softly, not wanting to startle her.
She glances up and smiles, waving me over. “Couldn’t sleep?”
I shake my head, sliding onto a stool at the counter. “Too much on my mind.”
She sets her mug down and moves to the stove, pouring hot water into a second cup. A tea bag dangles from the rim as she slides it over to me. “Chamomile. Works wonders for me.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. For a moment, we sit in silence.
“You know,” Elena says, breaking the quiet, “I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head. Want to share?”
I hesitate, staring into the swirling tea. “It’s Maxim,” I admit finally.
She raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I had a feeling. Victor told us he’s retiring soon.”
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I knew what I was signing up for—sixty days, fake marriage, no strings attached. But now…”
“Now you wish it wasn’t fake,” she finishes gently. “Been there, done that, got the tee-shirt.”
I nod, my throat tightening. “It’s stupid, right? He’s made it crystal clear this is temporary. I’d be an idiot to hope for more.”
Elena leans forward, resting her chin on her hand as she studies me. “What makes you so sure he doesn’t feel the same?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Because he’s Maxim Stepanov. He’s controlled, calculated, and emotionally unavailable. He doesn’t believe in love.”
“That’s what he wants people to think,” Elena counters. “He’s not as closed off as he pretends to be. And he wouldn’t be this protective of you if he didn’t care.”
I shake my head, my fingers tightening around the mug. “Caring isn’t enough. He’s doing this because he has to, not because he wants to.”
Her eyes soften, and she reaches out, placing a hand over mine. “Maybe you should tell him how you feel. You’d be surprised what happens when you take a chance. Just look at me.”
My heart twists at the thought. “And what if I’m wrong? What if I tell him and he shuts me down? I don’t think I could handle that.”
Elena smiles faintly, her voice quiet but firm. “Or maybe he surprises you. Maybe he’s waiting for you to take the first step.”
I sit there for a moment, her words sinking in, but the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen. “I can’t,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I’m not brave like you, Elena. I can’t risk it.”
Her hand lingers on mine for a moment before she pulls back. “Then you’ll never know. Tell him. Trust me.”
The house is silent, and I’ve been tossing and turning for what feels like hours, my thoughts chasing themselves in endless circles.
When the door creaks open, I jolt upright, my heart thudding in my chest. A shadowy figure steps inside, moving with quiet purpose.
“Maxim?” I whisper, my voice a mix of surprise and confusion.
He doesn’t answer immediately, closing the door softly behind him. The faint light catches on his sharp features, his expression unreadable.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he says finally, his voice rough, like gravel tumbling over velvet. “Went for a walk.”
Before I can reply, he sits on the edge of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress.
I swallow hard, my breath hitching as he slips off his shoes and leans back against the headboard, his body radiating heat. He doesn’t touch me, but the air between us hums with unspoken tension.
Silence stretches between us, not awkward but heavy with things left unsaid. I find myself leaning closer, drawn to him in a way I can’t explain.
“Sometimes I forget this marriage isn’t real,” I admit, my voice barely audible.
His gaze sharpens, his eyes locking onto mine. “Who said it’s all pretend,” he says quietly.
The crackling tension between us finally snaps as he leans in, his lips brushing mine with a tenderness that takes my breath away. The kiss starts slow but it deepens quickly, his hand coming up to cup my face.
My hands find their way to his chest, the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt exciting me. When he pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes burn
“Veronica,” he says, my name a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.
I don’t let him finish, pulling him back to me, the kiss turning frantic. He shifts, his weight pressing me into the mattress as his hands roam over me, lighting up every nerve ending in their wake.
I sit up, pushing him back onto the bed. I straddle his hips, my hands resting on his chest.
He smirks, his hands gripping my waist. “You think you can handle me?”
His hands slip under my camisole, his fingers tracing the curve of my spine. I sit back, pulling the camisole over my head and tossing it aside. His gaze rakes over me, and I can see the hunger in his eyes.
My hands slide down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time. “You’re so tense,” I murmur, my fingers brushing over his skin. “Let me take care of you this time.”
His hands grip my hips tighter, and I can feel the tension coiled in his body. “You always know how to push my buttons.”
My fingers trail lower, teasing the waistband of his pants. I lean down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. “Tell me what you want.”
His voice is rough, his accent thicker than usual. “You.”
I smile, nipping at his lower lip. “Good answer.” My hands work at his belt, and moments later, his pants are on the floor.
I shift, positioning myself over him, my breath catching as I feel the heat of him against my core. “You’re mine, Maxim. Say it.”
His hands grip my thighs, his eyes locked on mine. “I’m yours.”
I sink onto him, a moan escaping my lips as he fills me. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
His hands move to my hips, guiding me as I start to move. “Ride me, Veronica. Show me how much you want me.”
My hands grip his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as I move faster. “You like that?” I tease, my voice breathless. “You like watching me take control?”
His growl is answer enough. His hands move to grab my ass, squeezing as I ride him harder. “You’re fucking perfect.”
His hands move to my clit, his fingers circling with just the right pressure. I moan, my body tightening as the pleasure builds.
“That’s it,” he growls. “Come for me.”
I can’t hold back any longer. My body shudders as I climax, my hips grinding against his as I ride out the waves of pleasure.
When I finally collapse against his chest, his hands are still on me, holding me close.
“My turn,” he says, flipping me onto my back. His hands grip my wrists, pinning them above my head.
His lips find mine in a bruising kiss, and then his mouth moves lower, nipping and sucking at my skin. When he reaches my breasts, his tongue swirls around my nipple, and I arch into his touch.
“Maxim,” I moan, my hands twisting in the sheets. “Please.”
He smirks, his eyes dark with lust. “Please what? Use your words.”
“I need you inside me,” I gasp, my body trembling with need. “Now.”
He obliges, thrusting into me with a force that knocks the breath from my lungs. His pace is relentless, his hands gripping my hips as he fucks me hard and deep. “You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough with need. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I moan, my nails digging into his back. “Always yours.”
His thrusts grow faster, and I know he’s close. “Veronica,” he growls, his voice tight with restraint.
I reach up, grabbing his hair and pulling his face to mine. “Come in me,” I whisper, my lips brushing his.
With a grunt, he does, plunging deeper with a hard thrust as he spurts inside me.
When he finally stops moving he collapses beside me, pulling me close. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs. “So fucking perfect.”
Yeah, I think. But how long will you think that?