Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kholod
"Boss, there's a meeting at three this afternoon about the East Coast collaboration—"
"Reschedule it." I cut Dmitri off, snapping the file shut in front of me. "They're still being evasive. We don't need to push."
"Understood."
"That's all for today." I grabbed my coat. "Contact me only if it's an emergency."
"Yes, sir."
I stepped out of the dock's control room and got into the car.
"Home."
The car wound through Philadelphia's streets.
I gazed out the window, but my mind kept replaying one scene—Noelle last night at the dinner table, sipping her soup in small, delicate bites.
She cradled the bowl of clear broth I'd specially requested from the kitchen, her lashes casting faint shadows on her eyelids, a subtle smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
It was a faint smile, so subtle you'd miss it if you weren't paying attention. But I noticed.
I found myself paying more attention to these little details about her—what she liked, what she disliked, what made her smile, what made her frown.
This kind of fixation felt utterly alien to me.
The car pulled into the manor. I got out and entered the hall. The maid bowed respectfully, and I casually asked, "Where's Noelle?"
"Boss, she's in the library."
I headed toward the library, but paused at the doorway.
Noelle was curled up on the sofa, lying on her side, hands pillowed under her cheek, fast asleep. Her legs were slightly bent, a thin blanket draped over her, her slender ankle exposed.
A thick art book lay open on her lap, titled Wonders of the World. It was turned to a page featuring photos of Norway's fjords—deep blue waters, sheer cliffs rising on either side, distant snow-capped mountains.
The light bathed her hair in a soft golden halo. Her sleeping face was serene and vulnerable, long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, lips slightly parted, her breathing steady and gentle.
I stood there, watching her, suddenly unsure of what to do next.
This woman—the one I'd imprisoned, tormented, and hurt—now appeared heartbreakingly beautiful in my eyes.
I approached quietly and sat on the armrest beside her.
She didn't stir, just shifted slightly into a more comfortable position. The book nearly slipped from her knee. I caught it and flipped through a few pages.
Each page had small sticky notes attached, filled with her elegant handwriting—"Norway, Lofoten Islands, best viewing March-April," "New Zealand, glowworm caves, advance booking required," "Morocco, Chefchaouen blue town, perfect for photos"...
She'd annotated every location meticulously, planning trips that might never come to pass.
My fingers lingered on the Norway page, reminding me of the necklace—the compass pendant I'd given her.
She still wore it. Even after that brutal night on the bridge, she kept it on.
My hand rose involuntarily, yearning to touch her cheek. My fingertips hovered just above her skin, sensing the faint warmth of her breath.
But at the last moment, I pulled back. These hands had harmed her, tortured her, caused her endless tears.
I leaned back on the sofa, simply watching her in silence. I lost track of time—maybe ten minutes, maybe half an hour. I just observed, listening to her even breathing, basking in this rare moment of tranquility.
It felt strange.
In my world, peace always carried an undercurrent of vigilance. Every lull was merely the prelude to the next storm. But watching her now, I experienced genuine calm.
I began to examine my own emotions.
Initially, my obsession had been with pursuing the phantom savior from my memories, believing she could fill the void inside me. Only now did I realize I'd never truly known Noelle—not as my rescuer, not as the Bellucci daughter, not as my captive or wife.
She was simply a soul passionate about painting and distant horizons, resilient yet fragile, clinging to hope even in despair. And I'd responded to that purity with confinement, suspicion, and pain.
Noelle shifted, letting out a soft murmur. I froze, thinking she was waking.
But she merely rolled over, facing me, and continued sleeping.
Her cheek bore a faint red imprint from resting against her arm. A few strands of hair clung to her face, quivering lightly with each breath.
I raised my hand again and gently tucked those strands behind her ear.
Her skin was warm and soft, the contact making my heart skip a beat.
"Noelle," I whispered her name.
Her lashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes. Those brown eyes were still hazy with sleep, gazing at me in confusion.
"Kholod?" Her voice was raspy from slumber. "When did you get back?"
"Just now," I replied. "You were asleep."
"Sorry, I..." She sat up, hastily smoothing her hair and skirt. "I was reading and got tired, and I just..."
"No need to apologize," I interrupted. "This is your home. You can rest wherever you like."
She paused, a flash of disbelief in her eyes.
I picked up the art book from her lap and turned to a page. "You want to visit these places?"
She followed my finger to the photo of Iceland's blue ice cave. Her eyes immediately sparkled.
"Yes," she said softly. "I've always wanted to see them."
"Then let's go."
"What?"
"I said, let's go." I closed the book, locking eyes with her. "Wherever you want, I'll take you."
Her eyes widened, as if she couldn't believe her ears. "Are... are you serious?"
"I don't joke about this." I stood up. "Pack your things. We leave tomorrow."
She stared at me, the light in her eyes growing brighter. Then, before I could react, she leaped from the sofa and flung herself into my arms.
"Really? We can actually go?" Her voice trembled with excitement.
My body stiffened for a moment. She hugged me tightly, her face buried in my chest, her warm breath seeping through my shirt onto my skin.
"Really," I said, slowly wrapping my arms around her waist. "I never break a promise."
She looked up at me, those brown eyes brimming with joy and something else I didn't dare identify.
Then, she rose on her tiptoes and brushed a light kiss across my lips.
It was brief, like a dragonfly skimming water, tentative and shy.
But in that instant, my heart seemed to stop.
She pulled back quickly, cheeks flushing, head lowering. "Sorry, I got carried away..."
"Don't apologize," I said, my voice rough.
I cupped the back of her head with my hand, leaned down, and kissed her again. When we parted, her face was as red as a ripe apple, her breathing rapid.
"Go pack," I said, gently stroking her cheek. "I'll have Dmitri arrange everything."
"Okay." She nodded, that glow in her eyes captivating me.
The next morning, we boarded my private jet.
Noelle stood at the cabin entrance, staring at the Gulfstream G650, eyes wide with astonishment.
"This is yours?"
"Yes." I took her hand and led her inside. "From now on, you can use it anytime you want to travel."
"Oh my God..." she whispered. "I've never seen a plane this luxurious."
I glanced around—the cream leather seats, the solid wood coffee table, a small bar. At the rear, a private bedroom with a large bed.
"Just the basics," I said, guiding her to a window seat. "Once we're airborne, you can watch the sea of clouds."
She sat obediently, fastening her seatbelt. I settled beside her, watching her eyes shine with excitement, my lips curving into a smile without effort.
The plane taxied, accelerated, and soared into the sky.
Noelle pressed against the window, watching the ground structures give way to clouds, then an endless expanse of white, her wonder never fading.
"It's so beautiful..." she murmured. "It's been ages since I've seen anything like this..."
"I'm glad you like it."
She turned to me, eyes glistening with emotion. "Thank you, Kholod. Really... thank you."
"No problem," I said, taking her hand. "It's what I should have done." Should have done much sooner.
The plane reached cruising altitude, the flight steadying. The flight attendant brought champagne and snacks, then tactfully withdrew to the front cabin.
Noelle unbuckled her seatbelt and returned to gazing at the clouds. Sunlight poured through the window, making her entire being seem to glow.
I watched her intently—the excited flush on her cheeks, her slightly parted lips, those eyes overflowing with delight.
A scorching impulse began eroding my self-control.
"Noelle," I said, my voice already husky.
"Yes?"
I didn't say anything. Instead, I stood, wrapped my arm around her waist, and drew her into my embrace.
"Kholod?" She looked up at me, puzzled.
I bent down and lifted her into my arms, bridal style.
"Kholod!" she exclaimed, her arms instinctively looping around my neck.
I said nothing, carrying her toward the rear bedroom.
"Wait, we're on a plane—"
"I know." I pushed open the door and laid her on the large bed with its silk sheets. "But I want you right now."
Her face turned scarlet. "But..."
"They won't interrupt." I anticipated her concern, reassuring her as I shrugged off my jacket and tossed it aside. "It's soundproof. No need to worry."
I leaned over her, bracing my hands on either side of her body, trapping her in my shadow.
"Noelle," I murmured. "Right now. Right here, high above the clouds."
Her breathing quickened, her eyes flickering with nervousness, shyness, and a concealed spark of anticipation.
"I..." She bit her lower lip.
I didn't wait for her to finish. I lowered my head and claimed her lips.
As I kissed her, I pulled down the zipper of her dress. Her body quivered beneath my hands, but her arms rose to my shoulders, returning the kiss.
"Kholod..." she whispered against my lips.
"Yeah?"
"I... I'm a little scared..."
"Scared of what?" I paused, meeting her gaze.
"I don't know..." Her eyes were dazed. "This all feels like a dream. You're suddenly so kind to me, taking me on trips, treating me gently... I'm afraid I'll wake up and it'll all disappear."
Her words twisted like a knife in my chest.