Chapter 22 - Angelika
A faded morning glow pierces through the cracks of his partially open blinds. I smile and snuggle closer to his sleeping form. His skin is warm, his arms are wrapped around me as though he didn’t move at all last night after we climbed into bed.
I never intended to spend the night here.
The plan was for him to drop me off at home after the operation so that I could sneak back into my bedroom and no one would know anything.
Technically, I should be panicking right now, scared my brother will see I’m gone. But in all honestly, it’s too early for him to be checking in on me—and somehow, this moment with Diomid is worth it, even if I get caught again. I want this. I wish I could wake up like this every day of my life.
Sighing, my heart constricts, and a persistent nagging voice tugs at my thoughts.
Wishful thinking gets you nowhere.
“Did you sleep well, princess?” His voice is gruff with sleep, and the deep husky drone of it makes my heart flutter.
“I don’t even remember falling asleep, but I feel amazing right now,” I whisper.
“You fell asleep almost instantly,” he chuckles, still not letting me go.
“All the excitement got to me, I guess,” I reply.
He closes his eyes again, sighing with satisfaction. I try to close my eyes too, to savor the moment, but somehow I feel awkward. Like I’m playing pretend games.
“I need to pee,” I laugh nervously, wiggling away.
He huffs, grinning, and pretends not to let me go for a second before he unwraps his arms and sits up. “Can I make you a coffee? Tea?” he asks.
“Coffee, please.”
“Last time you woke up next to me after a wild night out, you snuck out of this place in such a rush I didn’t even get your name,” he says, eyeing me, reminiscing on the night we met.
My cheeks blush pink as I slip out of bed. “How about I stay for breakfast this time? Are you any good at making pancakes?”
His eyes brighten. “I’m literally the best pancake maker you will ever meet in your entire life,” he declares boldly.
“I guess I’ll have to judge for myself…” I grin, then turn away from him and hurry into the bathroom.
I don’t really need to pee so badly, but I do need a moment to pull myself together.
Seeing him standing topless, in those damn grey sweatpants, stretching his arms to wake himself up…
It’s a challenge not to pounce on him and make some lame effort to seduce the guy.
I mean, I could. Why not? Oh, right, because we’ve already caused such huge issues for our families, and I don’t want to do it again.
In the bathroom, I splash water on my face and run my fingers through my hair. It was so sweet how he took care of me last night. No one has ever done that for me before. His touch was different, gentle, sweet. It was filled with longing somehow.
Or I was reading into it because I was longing for something I can’t have.
I bite my lip and stare at my reflection. My eyes look a tiny bit puffy from the smoke last night, but otherwise, I look well rested. Physically, I’m fine. But I know myself well enough to recognize the struggle reflected in my green eyes.
“Come on, Angelika, you know why this can’t happen,” I sigh, lecturing my reflection.
When I come out of the bathroom, I decide, for better or for worse, to message my brother and tell him I left early to go shopping.
That I took a guard and that I needed space and time to think, but I’m safe.
At least that takes the pressure off me needing to rush home.
And while he might be angry that I did that, at least he won’t be in a panic that I’m hurt or missing.
***
When I walk into the kitchen, Diomid is humming, whipping a gooey mixture in a glass measuring jug. He grins at me, gesturing toward the concoction.
“The best pancakes on the planet—coming right up,” he says proudly.
I slide onto the kitchen counter, my legs dangling down, swinging as I watch him.
“Are you using butter in the pan?”
“Of course, what a silly question, of course it’s real butter. Any decent chef knows you only use real butter,” he replies, pompous and overly posh.
I giggle, and he throws me a cheeky grin.
“Oh, your coffee…” he huffs, setting the glass jar down and picking up a mug of freshly made coffee, carrying it over to me. “There you go, princess. Let me know if you need anything else?”
“This is amazing, thanks,” I smile, sipping the sweet, rich brew.
Diomid looks playful and happy while he makes the pancakes. He makes me laugh loudly when he puts on a grey apron, tied with a bow at the back, and asks me if I want the full show or if he should keep his pants on.
“Um,” I stammer, very eager to see the full show, but again, knowing I shouldn’t flirt with such thoughts.
“Right, of course, a dignified princess such as yourself should not be lured by a common chef. My apologies.” He winks at me and turns back to the pan.
Quietly, I sit watching him, flipping the pancakes, sliding them off the pan into the waiting plate, then pouring more mixture into the pan.
It feels so normal, so peaceful, but while he’s busy, my head is racing.
My heart is slipping, spinning, and tripping over itself, and in a flash of realization, it all hits me harder than I am prepared for.
Love.
Not the childish, dreamy, silly kind. But real love.
Deep, heart-wrenching, painful, yet beautiful love.
I am in love with a man whom I am forbidden to be with.
I am in love with a man who does not love me in return.
My body is suddenly filled with pins and needles of panic as emotions flood me. Tears sting my eyes, my throat closes, and I’m so fucking grateful he’s too busy to notice as I hurriedly wipe tears away and hold my breath until I get control of myself.
When Diomid turns to look at me, he pauses, immediately worried.
“Your eyes are red,” he says, nervous, tense, frozen as his eyes dart over me.
“They keep watering. I think the smoke from last night is still bothering them,” I answer quickly, hoping I sound casual as I start rubbing them again. “It’s kind of itchy,” I add for effect.
“I have some drops. Let me grab them quick,” he says, setting down the plate stacked high with pancakes.
He’s out of the kitchen and running upstairs before I can reply. I slide off the counter and take the time alone to really gather myself. By the time he comes back, I’m smiling again. I’m ok. As ok as I can be, knowing what I now know.
“Tilt your head back,” he says, gently holding my jaw to keep me steady. “Look up at the ceiling, there you go,” he drops cool gel drops into each eye, and to be honest, it feels like heaven. It feels like water rushing over dry, cracked desert ground. “Oh wow, that is amazing,” I sigh in relief.
“That smoke is so nasty. I wish you hadn’t got caught in it,” he mutters.
I grab his hand before he steps away from me, pausing him.
“You came to find me. You saved my life, and not for the first time.” I smile, thinking to myself that somehow, Diomid has saved my life literally and figuratively. He showed me things I’ve never seen, made me feel things I’ve never felt, things I didn’t even know I could feel.
His lips curve into a sexy smile, pressing into his unshaven cheeks, dark with a shadow of black stubble that makes him look rugged and gorgeous.
My heart stammers in my chest as I look into his cool grey-blue eyes.
“I would save you a thousand times more, princess.”
It’s all he says.
Then he steps away and picks up the plate. “Come on, the pancakes are getting cold. Let’s eat on the balcony, it’s a freaking gorgeous morning.”
He has his feet stretched out, resting on the edge of the balcony railing with a plate of pancakes on his lap. Honey dropping over them, and a splash of lemon and a sprinkle of cinnamon.
“Well?” he says, still chewing, his brows raised as he waits for my verdict.
I chew slower, narrowing my gaze, acting thoughtful as though I’m pondering the meaning of life itself.
“It’s not bad,” I say after drawing out the moment.
“Not bad?” he snorts.
I giggle. “Ok, fine, they are the best pancakes I’ve ever had in my life. But I didn’t want to tell you because your ego is going to inflate so much that there won’t be space for me on this balcony anymore!”
He snorts again, laughing this time. “Princess, I will make space for you. Everywhere. Anywhere.”
He’s so charming. Always flirting. But, Angelika, it’s just who he is. You can’t read into it.
I smile, taking another bite of my pancake.
Diomid’s phone chimes, and he glances at it, looking as though he’s fully prepared to ignore it.
“Oh, it’s Oleg,” he says, picking it up.
“An update?” I ask, eagerly.
He reads aloud.
“Hi guys, if the princess is still with you, let her know too…” Diomid grunts, scrunching his nose at his brother’s message. “I don’t get why he’s suddenly calling you princess,” he mutters under his breath.
“What does the message say!” I demand, hiding my giggle, because I swear Diomid looks jealous about Oleg calling me princess. But Diomid calls me princess all the time in front of other people.
“Right, uh, it says… last night, three of the seven girls were dropped off at their families safely. Two are in the process of being assisted to relocate. One has no family but has a friend in Mexico whom they want to go and stay with for a while. One has been admitted to a private hospital for care. She’s ok but shaken and bruised from something that happened.
The last one is trying to convince us to give her a job. ”
Diomid chuckles. “Why would she want a job?” he asks me, with his eyes narrowed.
“Maybe she wants to thank you somehow?”
“She doesn’t need to thank us,” he argues.
“Maybe she thinks your brother is super-hot and she wants to stick around him a bit longer?” I suggest, shrugging.
“Oleg?” he says, his eyes darting to me. “Do you think Oleg is super-hot?”
“I didn’t say me… I said to her. Maybe she thinks so.” My grin is getting harder to hide.