Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Kholod
"Boss, the dock accounts have been verified."
Dmitri's voice crackled through the intercom, but I was staring at the surveillance feed on my computer screen, not hearing a word.
"Boss?"
"Yeah, got it." I snapped back to attention. "Proceed as planned."
"Yes, sir. Also, regarding Miss Isabella Vance, we've transferred the funds as you instructed. Future requests will be accommodated within reason, but she won't be allowed near the manor again."
"Good."
I cut the intercom and turned back to the screen.
In the collection room, Noelle was wearing white gloves, carefully polishing a gilded religious icon.
Her movements were gentle and deliberate, like she was handling something precious and fragile.
Soft light hit her face from the side, outlining her delicate profile—the slight upturn of her lashes, her straight nose, those lips I knew all too well.
Damn it. I was actually wondering what it would feel like if she touched me with that same gentle care...
I rubbed my temples, forcing myself to turn to the pile of documents. But within three minutes, my eyes drifted back to the screen.
How many times today? Ten? Twenty?
Ever since that night in the garage, everything had spiraled out of control.
I'd thought completely possessing her would calm this restlessness. Instead, it was the opposite—that loss of control hadn't brought satisfaction, but worked like an addictive drug, making me crave her even more.
Not just her body.
Everything about her.
The slight furrow in her brow when she read quietly, her focused expression while painting, her occasional soft smile, even the defiance in her eyes when she looked at me coldly—it all hooked into every nerve I had.
I was finding it harder and harder to bear moments when I couldn't see her.
On screen, Mother walked into the collection room. She stopped beside Noelle, saying something. Though there was no sound, I could see Noelle listening intently, nodding occasionally.
Then Mother did something that surprised me—she reached out and lightly patted Noelle's shoulder.
Brief, gentle, but significant.
Mother rarely showed such warmth. She was a woman who kept her emotions deeply buried, maintaining severity even with Anya and me.
But now, she'd actually initiated physical contact with Noelle.
That iron-willed woman, whom even I had to respect, was showing approval instead of scrutiny when facing Noelle.
What kind of power did this woman have?
How did she do it?
I stared at that slender figure on screen, feeling something churn and expand in my chest, almost breaking through my ribs.
Just watching her through surveillance wasn't enough anymore. I needed to be closer.
I needed—
"Fuck." I cursed under my breath, slammed the computer shut, and stormed out of the study.
Over the next few days, I prowled my own manor like a stalker.
I knew her daily routine. Two fixed hours in the collection room each afternoon, curled up by the library fireplace reading travel magazines in the evening, and helped Mother prune those prized roses in the greenhouse when weather permitted.
I tracked all her movements.
Then, like a ghost, I'd hide in shadows, secretly watching her.
It was sick, I knew. But I couldn't control myself.
This afternoon, I stood in the shadowed colonnade outside the greenhouse, watching the two figures inside.
Mother was pruning a blooming red rose while Noelle handed her tools.
Sunlight streamed through the glass dome, casting her in a soft halo.
She wore a simple beige sweater dress, hair loosely pinned up, exposing her slender neck.
"This branch is too dense, it'll affect airflow," Mother said, efficiently cutting off a half-opened bud.
Noelle caught the rose, placing it in the bamboo basket beside her. "Isn't it a shame to cut such a beautiful flower?"
"Keeping it would be the real shame." Mother didn't look up. "Sometimes sacrificing things that seem beautiful makes the whole more perfect. It's the art of balance."
"I understand."
"You're smart, Noelle." Mother set down her shears, turning to look at her. "Much smarter than I expected."
Noelle seemed a bit embarrassed. "You're too kind."
"I never say empty words. Your work in the collection room has been excellent—the ledgers are organized perfectly. Even I can't find fault."
"Thank you for giving me this opportunity."
"This isn't an opportunity. It's what you've earned. You proved your abilities."
I leaned against the stone pillar, watching this woman who held her own before Mother, my heartbeat gradually accelerating.
She'd actually won Mother's approval.
"Kholod, he..." Noelle hesitated before continuing, "he's been acting strange lately. He..."
Mother looked at her, eyes deep and knowing.
"The more he acts like this, the more it shows he cares."
Noelle was clearly stunned. "Cares?"
"Someone who doesn't care won't waste energy tormenting another person. Kholod's been like this since childhood. The more he cares about something, the more clumsily he handles it."
"But—"
"Don't overthink it." Mother patted her hand gently. "Keep doing what you're doing. Time will give you answers."
I turned and silently left the colonnade.
Mother's words echoed in my head.
"The more he cares about something, the more clumsily he handles it."
She was right.
Damn it, she was always right.
That evening, I entered the library.
Noelle would come at this time—she did every day, without fail.
I'd hidden in advance in the decorative alcove by the wall. Originally, it housed a marble statue, but I'd had it removed a few days ago. Now it could accommodate a grown man.
This was absurd.
The head of the Morozov family, hiding in his own library to spy on his wife.
But I couldn't help myself.
Sure enough, the library door opened shortly after.
Noelle walked in carrying several heavy art books, heading straight for the sofa by the fireplace. She sat down and opened a book about Norwegian fjords, firelight dancing across her face.
I held my breath, watching. From this angle, I could clearly see her lowered lashes, her nose tip reddened by the fire, and her fingertips gently caressing the pages—tender as if touching treasure.
What was she thinking? Imagining standing before those fjords? Or planning her escape?
That thought tightened my chest.
No. She'd never escape.
She belonged to me.
Just then, Noelle suddenly stood and walked toward the bookshelves.
My heartbeat instantly accelerated.
Damn, what book did she want?
She stopped before the tall bookshelf, looking up at a book on the highest shelf.
She glanced around, then wheeled over a ladder from the corner. The sound of rolling wheels grew closer. I pressed against the alcove wall, not daring to breathe.
She slowly climbed the ladder, reaching for that book about Finland. Now she was less than a meter away, the orange blossom scent from her hair hitting me full force. Firelight illuminated the fine hairs at her nape, her soft breathing audible as she stretched on tiptoe.
Every muscle in my body tensed.
Her fingertips had just touched the book spine—
"Ah—!"
The ladder suddenly slipped sideways.
Noelle lost her balance, falling backward as the book tumbled from her grasp, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
I lunged out almost on instinct.
I caught her waist, using my body to break her fall. But my momentum was too strong, combined with her falling weight, and we both crashed heavily onto the carpet.
She groaned, her entire body pressed against mine.
My back ached from the impact, but I didn't care. My arms wrapped tightly around her, like I'd recovered lost treasure.
She was soft and warm all over, carrying that maddening scent. The softness of her chest pressed against me, her waist and curves outlined perfectly in my hands. Her startled breath brushed my neck.
Finally touching her. Like a desert traveler taking his first sip of water.
But it wasn't nearly enough. I wanted more.
"Kholod?" She pushed herself up, eyes wide with shock. "Why are you here?"
"I..."
How to explain? That I'd been hiding in an alcove spying on her for half an hour?
"I was just passing by." I heard myself say stiffly. "Heard the noise and came in."
"Passing by the library?" Her eyes were full of suspicion. "Darya says you only ever work in your study."
Damn Darya.
"People change." I forced authority into my voice.
Noelle clearly didn't believe me, but she didn't press. She tried to get up from on top of me, palms braced against my chest. That insignificant pressure froze my entire body. Her palms were so soft—even through my shirt, I could feel their warmth, setting my chest ablaze.
I wanted to grab that hand. Press it against my chest. Instead, I pulled her back down, pressing her against me again.
"What are you doing?" She tensed.
"Making sure you're not hurt." I tightened my hold.
"I'm fine! Let go—"
"Don't move. Let me check."
I flipped us over, pinning her beneath me, cupping her face in my hands.
Her cheeks were flushed from the fall, eyes misty with unshed tears, lips slightly parted like a silent invitation. Just like that night in the garage—trembling, crying, finally surrendering beneath me.
My desire was already iron-hard. And I intended to follow it.
"Don't move. I need to make sure you're not hurt."
I stroked her soft cheek, sliding my hand to her nape, fingers threading through her silky hair, gently kneading. "Did you hit your head?"
"No. Can you let me go now?" Noelle still tried to struggle.
"Good." I slid slowly down her arm, gripping her wrist. "What about here? Did you twist anything?"
"No!" Noelle shook her head, trying to pull her hand back.
I held her wrist firm, turning it over, thumb drawing circles on her tender palm. Her helpless position made the beast inside me even more restless.
"That's good." I released her wrist, my palm following her waist's curve upward. "When you fell, did you hit your ribs?"
Her whole body went rigid, sucking in a sharp breath.
"Don't..." Noelle finally broke, her voice catching with tears.
"Why?" I stopped moving, lips almost touching her ear. "Does it hurt?"
My fingertips traced the edge of her bra, and she went taut as a drawn bowstring.
I dropped the pretense, covering that softness completely with my palm. I listened with satisfaction to her broken whimper.
"Seems fine here too." I increased the pressure of my massage.
Noelle completely gave up resistance, eyes squeezed shut, letting me do as I pleased.
I moved to her flat stomach, then her thigh. "What about here?" My palm settled on her inner thigh, that most sensitive, vulnerable place.
She snapped her eyes open, pupils flooded with panic and silent pleading.
"Don't... not here..."
"Not here? Our examination is finished."
I leaned to her ear. "Looks like you're perfectly fine everywhere."
The fire in Noelle's eyes blazed brighter. "Kholod! You pervert!"
"Yes, I am." This wasn't the first time she'd called me a pervert. I looked at her flushed eyes and moist lips, leaning down to kiss her roughly.
"Boss."
Dmitri's voice came from the doorway—calm, controlled, but like ice water over my head.
I immediately released Noelle. Dmitri hadn't entered.
"Sorry to interrupt, but the documents you requested are ready and need your personal review and signature."
"Wait in my study."
"Yes. Also, Miss Isabella Vance called wanting to thank you in person for your generous support."
I waved irritably. "Unnecessary. Decline all such requests going forward."
"Understood."
I looked down at Noelle beneath me, her eyes sparkling with mockery.
"Boss, time to get to work."
I reached out, thumb lightly brushing her lower lip.
"You can't escape."
"Psycho!" She turned her face away, voice thick with embarrassed anger.
I smiled, standing up to look down at her.
"Maybe," I admitted. "But you're what made me sick."
With that, I turned and left the library.
In the hallway, I leaned against the wall, slowly exhaling.
My fingertips still held the feel of her skin, her scent still lingering on my lips.
Not enough. Nowhere near enough.
But I had to restrain myself. I needed to handle those damn documents first.
Then...
I looked at the library's closed door, my gaze turning dark.
Reason was screaming: She's a liar. She impersonated your savior. She deceived you.
But my body was roaring: She's yours. She can only ever be yours.
Instinct shrieked: She's different. This woman is different from everyone else.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.
Then opened them and made a decision.
Fuck the savior.
Fuck the truth.
Fuck everything.
Whoever she was, she could only belong to me.
Back in my study, Dmitri had already arranged the documents neatly on my desk.
I sat down and picked up my pen, but my mind was full of her soft body and warm breath.
"Boss?" Dmitri called my attention back. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," I said expressionlessly. "Get to business."
"About Isabella Vance—"
"I said to avoid meeting requests going forward." I cut him off. "Give her money, give her resources. That's it."
Dmitri was quiet for a moment. "Boss, with respect, Miss Vance is the one who actually saved you. Treating her this way seems..."
"Dmitri, my personal affairs don't require your input."
"Yes, sir."