10. Jealousy and Soul Ties
Jealousy and Soul Ties
Nikolai Levin
Boredom dragged me into the kitchen late that morning.
Olga was at the counter, sleeves pushed up to her elbows as she measured flour into a massive glass bowl. Eggs, butter, sugar—she was getting ready to bake.
The sight hit me right in the chest. Babushka used to make pastries for Pavel and I every other weekend, no matter how tight money got.
Even when things were at their worst, she always found a way to fill our tiny kitchen with the smell of sweet dough.
Before the illness took all of that away from her.
“Can I help?” I asked, leaning against the counter.
Olga barely looked up before shaking her head. “No, sweetheart. Mr. Romanov will not be pleased if he finds you hovering around the kitchen.”
I frowned. “Please?”
“Nikolai…”
“I’ll stay out of your way, I promise.”
She let out a long sigh. “You are impossible.”
I grinned. “So is that a yes?”
“One day you’ll be the reason I get fired.”
Olga had always been like a second mother to me; if I pestered her long enough, she almost always caved.
She got to work whisking the eggs while I took over kneading the dough, humming softly under her breath. I was just dusting the board with another handful of flour when familiar footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Zhenya. He’d only just returned from the office.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Romanov,” Olga greeted warmly.
“Welcome back, Zhenya.”
He shot a quick look at Olga before zeroing in on me. Between my hands, shirt, and face, I was practically wearing the flour. He stared, completely blank.
“Clean yourself up,” he said evenly. “Then meet me in my room.”
Without another word, he turned and headed back out.
When I walked into his bedroom, Zhenya didn’t even look up from the leather-bound file in his hands.
“Planning on replacing Olga?”
My brows pulled together. “What?”
“You looked rather comfortable in my kitchen.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I was bored.”
That finally got him to glance up.
“I’ve already read every book in the library,” I muttered, tossing a look toward the door. “There isn’t much else to do around here.”
He studied me in silence for a moment before snapping the folder shut. “You should have said something.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
“It does.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. “Come on.”
I blinked. “Where are we going?”
“To solve your boredom.”
* * *
I didn’t realize where we were headed until the sedan pulled into the lot of a quiet, high-end bookstore.
We got out without speaking. Zhenya hung back near the entrance while I shuffled through the aisles, taking my time picking out a stack of novels. After paying, I pushed the glass door open to find him talking with a girl near the curb—blonde, sharply dressed, and effortlessly wealthy.
I stood off to the side, waiting, but neither Zhenya nor the woman even acknowledged I was there. A sharp sting of jealousy flared up in my chest. I knew how aloof and reserved Zhenya could be, so seeing him converse with her so smoothly felt like a quick punch to the gut.
Suffocating on my own annoyance, I took the books straight to the car and got in. A minute later, he wrapped up the conversation and slid into the driver’s seat.
“That was fast,” he noted as he started the engine. “I didn’t expect you to be so quick.”
“Mhm.”
We pulled out onto the main road.
“You’re being unusually quiet,” he said, shooting a glance my way.
“Mhm. I just don’t feel like talking.”
The car tires shrieked as he pulled sharply into an empty lay by and cut the engine.
“Did something happen in the bookstore, Nikolai?”
Every part of me wanted to blow up, but I forced my jaw tight. “No.”
“Nikolai.”
I stared out the window, lowering my voice. “She’s pretty. The girl you were talking to.”
“That doesn’t answer my—”
“Pretty enough that you completely ignored me the whole time I was standing there,” I snapped, cutting him off.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face me entirely. I refused to look back, keeping my eyes locked on the sidewalk outside a pub, watching an old man help his drunk companion walk. Zhenya called my name three times. I ignored every single one.
With a heavy exhale, he buckled back in and drove the rest of the way to the penthouse in complete silence.
My chest burned the entire time. I was visibly furious with him, yet he seemed completely unbothered.
But then again, what was I expecting? Zhenya had never been the type to offer easy comfort.
When the car finally rolled to a stop in the underground garage, I made a move to get straight to my room for the rest of the day. He had other ideas.
“Take this to my bathroom,” he said, handing me a small box of dental floss from the center console.
Why is he sending me? He could easily carry it up himself, I thought bitterly, snatching it from his hand without a word.
The faint smell of warm pineapple cake greeted me as I stepped out of the elevator. Olga had clearly retired for the day, leaving the kitchen—which we’d left a mess earlier—spotless.
I hurried up the stairs to his master bathroom and set the floss beside his shaving kit. But as I looked up into the mirror, Zhenya was already standing right behind me. He hadn’t made a single sound coming in.
I spun around to leave, but he caught my wrist, pulling me flush against his chest. If he thought a simple hug was going to erase how angry I felt, he was dead wrong.
“Nikolai… Niko,” he whispered, burying his face into the side of my neck. “Why are you mad at me?”
“Don’t do that,” I muttered, though my hands were already betraying me, gripping the front of his shirt.
“Nikolai…” His voice rasped, cold enough to freeze the room. “What did I do?”
“You know what you did.”
“I don’t.”
I finally forced myself to look up into his face. “You ignored me.”
“I did not.”
“You did. I stood there and watched you talk to her for ten minutes.”
“It wasn’t ten minutes.”
“It felt like ten minutes.”
A faint curve tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m smiling because you’re jealous.”
Heat rushed straight to my face. “I am not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not jealous, Zhenya.”
“No?” He stepped closer, crowding me against the edge of the marble sink until there wasn’t a breath of air between us. “Then why did the conversation bother you so much?”
“It didn’t.”
“Nikolai.”
“It didn’t. I’m serious.”
His hand cupped my chin, his thumb gently tipping my head up until I had no choice but to look into those sharp blue eyes.
“Look at me.”
I did.
“The woman outside…” He paused, his expression softening. “…is our lead architect.”
I blinked. “What?”
“We were discussing the upcoming renovations for the pediatrics wing at the hospital.” He stroked my jawline lightly. “Besides, she’s been married for five years.”
“Oh.”
“And while she was speaking,” he continued softly, “I was wondering why the man standing by my car refused to come over and join us.”
The sheer embarrassment hit me all at once, warming my neck. “I thought…”
“I know what you thought.”
“I’m sorry,” I grumbled, looking down at his chest. “I overreacted.”
A quiet laugh escaped him. “I don’t think you did.”
I frowned. “No?”
“No.” He rested his forehead gently against mine. “I think I quite like the idea of you missing me even when I’m standing very close by.”
Every coherent thought completely abandoned my head.
“I’m still a little angry,” I mumbled into the space between us.
“I know.”
“…You really did ignore me.”
“I did.”
“You admit it?”
“I was rude,” he said lacing his fingers through mine. “I’ll do better.”
Something inside my chest melted completely before I could stop it. “…Okay.”
Zhenya’s grip tightened on my hand as a dark, crooked smile rested on his lips. “Fuck… you’re lethal when you’re jealous, Nikolai.”
His words hit like a physical blow. Lethal when you’re jealous. I opened my mouth to argue, to deflect, to say something—anything—but the words died in my throat.
Because Zhenya was looking at me like I was the only thing in the room worth seeing.
His thumb traced my jaw again, slower this time. His gaze dropped to my mouth before rising back to meet my eyes.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice dropping to a rough thread. “Tell me, Nikolai.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. “Zhenya—”
“I’ve been holding back for days.” He stepped closer, crowding me back against the marble counter.
I could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in his chest, the heavy, uneven rise and fall of his breath.
“The night you fell asleep in my bed… when you shifted against me without even knowing what you were doing.”
My face burned. “You never said anything.”
“I didn’t want to push you.” He rested his forehead against mine again, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second.
“Zhenya…”
“But tonight—” He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dim and hungry. “Tonight, you looked at me like I belonged to you. Like you’d tear that woman apart if she came too close. And I realized… I’m done holding back.”
Air caught cold in my throat.
“What are you saying?”
He caught my hand, lacing his fingers tight through mine again, and pulled me out of the bathroom into the bedroom.
“I’m saying,” he said, closing the door behind us, “that I’ve reached my limit.”
He turned back to face me, keeping his grip on my hand.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll step back. I won’t bring it up again.”
I watched his every move— the tight line of his jaw, the sheer vulnerability in his expression, the faint tremor in his fingers that told me he was terrified of my answer.
It hit me all at once: he’d been reining himself in for my sake all this time. Through every night, through every quiet moment, he’d been protecting me from his own impulses.
Except I didn’t need to be protected anymore.
I closed the distance between us, pressing flush against him, and reached up to hold his face in both hands.
“Don’t stop,” I said quietly. “I don’t want you to.”