Chapter 8Damir
8
Damir
T he quarterly reports blur before my eyes. Numbers that should command my attention drift away like smoke. I tap my pen against the mahogany desk, my mind wandering to Elena again.
Two weeks. Two weeks of marriage, and she’s infiltrated every corner of my thoughts.
I close my eyes, attempting to focus, but all I see is Elena’s face, her lips parted, eyes half-closed as she comes apart beneath me. The memory of her soft moans replays in my mind, distracting me from the work that should be my priority.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pushing away from my desk.
This wasn’t part of the arrangement. Sex, yes—we’d established that early on. The physical attraction between us was undeniable. What I hadn’t anticipated was how often I’d think about her when she wasn’t around. How I’d find myself checking my watch, calculating when she’d return from her hospital shift.
My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. Valeriya’s name flashes on the screen.
“What is it?” I answer, already standing.
“Sir, we have a situation.” Valeriya’s voice is tight, controlled. “Elena is gone.”
My blood turns to ice. “What do you mean, gone?”
“We were at Westfield Mall. She was shopping, and then—” Valeriya pauses. “She disappeared in the crowd. Fydor is searching the east wing. I’ve alerted mall security.”
“How long?” I demand, already moving toward the door, signaling to my driver.
“Seven minutes, sir.”
Seven minutes. An eternity. Enough time for her to be taken, hurt, and killed.
“I’m on my way. Send me the security feed.”
I end the call and slide into the back of my waiting car. “Westfield Mall. Now.”
The driver nods, pulling into traffic. My phone pings with an incoming video file. I open it immediately, scanning the footage from the mall’s security cameras.
There is Elena in a blue sweater and jeans, browsing a display of books. Valeriya stands a respectful distance away, constantly scanning for danger. Then, commotion. An elderly man collapses near Elena. Without hesitation, she drops her shopping bag and rushes to him, kneeling beside his prone form.
I watch as she checks for a pulse then begins chest compressions. Her movements are precise and professional. People gather around, forming a circle. Paramedics arrive minutes later. Elena speaks to them, gesturing to the man. Then she follows them as they wheel him away on a gurney.
She never looks back and never signals to Valeriya or Fydor. She simply... leaves.
I call Valeriya. “She’s at the hospital. She went with the ambulance.”
“Sir, I?—”
“Meet me there.”
I hang up and direct my driver to change course. Relief mingles with anger in my veins. She’s safe, but she left her security behind without a thought. Twenty minutes later, I stride through the emergency department doors. The hospital staff recognize me from my previous visits with Anton. A nurse points me toward a treatment room without my having to ask.
Through the glass partition, I see Elena. She’s wearing borrowed scrubs, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She moves with confidence among the medical team, handing instruments to a doctor and monitoring vital signs. She belongs here, her face animated with purpose.
I stand watching her for several minutes. She’s completely absorbed in her work, unaware of my presence or the security breach she’s caused. This is her world—the one she fought so hard to stay in.
When the team stabilizes the patient, Elena steps back, speaking quietly with the attending physician. The doctor nods, impressed by whatever she’s saying. Finally, she turns and sees me through the glass. Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t appear alarmed. She says something to the doctor, then walks toward me, removing her gloves.
“Damir,” she says, approaching me in the hallway. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” My voice is somehow controlled. “You disappeared from a public mall without informing your security detail.”
She blinks, genuinely confused. Then realization dawns on her face. “Oh, my god. Valeriya and Fydor. I completely forgot about them.”
“You… forgot?”
“There was an emergency. Mr. Abramson collapsed with cardiac arrest. If I hadn’t started CPR immediately?—”
“You could have told them where you were going.”
“There wasn’t time,” she says. “Every second counted, and once we got him in the ambulance, I was focused on keeping him stable.”
I step closer, lowering my voice. “Do you understand what could have happened? You vanished in a crowded mall. My enemies?—”
“I know, I know.” She runs a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about any of that. When I see someone in medical distress, everything else just disappears.”
I study her face. She’s genuinely apologetic, yet I can tell she’d do exactly the same thing again if presented with the same circumstances. “Is he stable?” I ask, nodding toward the treatment room.
“Yes. They’re admitting him to cardiology.” Her expression softens. “Thank you for understanding.”
“I didn’t say I understood.” I check my watch. “Are you finished here?”
She nods. “Let me change back into my clothes.”
Ten minutes later, we’re in my car, heading back to the penthouse. Elena sits beside me, her shopping bags recovered by Fydor, who now follows in a separate vehicle with Valeriya. The silence between us is heavy.
“You’re angry,” says Elena finally.
“Yes.”
“Because I broke protocol.”
“Because you could have been killed.” I turn to face her. “Do you understand what would happen if someone recognized you as my wife? The target that puts on your back?”
She stares out the window. “I didn’t think?—”
“No, you didn’t.”
We don’t speak again until we reach the penthouse. The elevator ride up is tense, Elena fidgeting with the strap of her purse. When the doors open, she walks straight to the kitchen, filling a glass with water.
I remove my jacket, watching her. She’s avoiding the confrontation, but we need to have this conversation.
“Elena.”
She turns, glass in hand. “I said I was sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t keep you alive.”
“What do you want me to say, Damir? That I’ll ignore a dying man next time? That I’ll prioritize your security protocols over someone’s life?”
“I want you to be aware of the danger you’re in because of me.” I move closer to her. “I want you to understand that there are people who would hurt you to get to me.”
“I do understand that. Why do you think I agreed to the security detail in the first place?” She sets down her glass with a sharp click. “I didn’t ask for any of this. The guards, the rules, or the constant surveillance. It was part of our deal, and I’ve been complying.”
“Except today.”
“Today was different. I’m a doctor, Damir. Or I will be. Saving lives is what I do.” Her eyes flash with passion. “Medicine will always be my first priority. I can’t change that, and I won’t apologize for it.”
I exhale harshly, frustration building. “You think I’m asking you to compromise your principles? I’m asking you to be careful. To think.”
“I was thinking, about my patient!”
“He wasn’t your patient. You’re not even on shift.”
“That doesn’t matter.” She steps toward me, her face flushed. “When someone needs medical help, they become my responsibility. That’s the oath I’m taking.”
We stand facing each other, both breathing hard. I see the determination in her eyes and the commitment to her calling. Her passion and purpose are things that drew me to her in the first place.
“You could have been killed,” I say again, my voice lower, strained. The words carry more weight than I intended, revealing more than I meant to show.
Elena’s expression changes, her anger fading as she studies my face. “You were worried about me.”
I don’t answer. Don’t need to.
“Damir.” She moves closer, her voice softer. “I’m sorry I scared you. That wasn’t my intention.”
“I wasn’t scared,” I lie. “I was concerned about a breach in security.”
She tilts her head, seeing through me. “Right. Just business.”
“This arrangement only works if you follow the rules.”
“The arrangement.” She repeats the word slowly. “Is that all this is to you? An arrangement?”
The question hangs between us. Two weeks ago, I would have said yes without hesitation. Now, I’m not so sure. The thought of Elena in danger makes my chest tight in a way I’ve never experienced before.
“What else would it be?” I ask, deflecting.
She studies me for a long moment. “I don’t know, but when you came to the hospital today, you didn’t look like a businessman checking on his investment. You looked like a husband worried about his wife.”
I turn away, uncomfortable with her perception. “You’re reading too much into it.”
“Am I?” She steps around to face me again. “Because it seems to me that if this were purely business, you’d be angry about the inconvenience, not terrified something might have happened to me.”
“I wasn’t terrified.”
“Your hands are shaking, Damir.”
I look down. She’s right. I clench my fists, willing them to stop.
“It’s been two weeks,” she continues softly. “Two weeks of living together, sleeping together. Are you really going to stand there and tell me nothing has changed?”
“Nothing has changed,” I insist, even as I recognize the lie. “This is still a temporary arrangement. Six months, as agreed.”
She crosses her arms. “Fine. Then as your temporary wife, I’ll try to be more mindful of security protocols, but I need you to understand that if someone needs medical assistance, I will help them. That’s non-negotiable.”
I study her determined expression. There’s no point arguing further. She won’t budge on this, and part of me doesn’t want her to. Her compassion and dedication to helping others are fundamental to who she is. “Next time, at least tell Valeriya or Fydor where you’re going,” I concede.
“I will try.” She nods. “I promise.”
The tension between us shifts, transforming into something different. Not quite resolved but changed. There’s an awareness now, an unspoken acknowledgment that our arrangement has evolved into something neither of us anticipated.
I stare at Elena, her words hanging between us. The realization that I was genuinely afraid for her safety hits me with unexpected force. My carefully constructed walls—the ones that have kept me alive all these years—are cracking. “Don’t disappear like that again.”
“I won’t,” she whispers, her gaze locked with mine.
Something inside me snaps. The control I’ve maintained my entire life slips away, replaced by raw, primal need. I close the distance between us in two strides, my hands finding her waist, pushing her backward until her spine meets the wall.
Her eyes widen in surprise, but there’s no fear in them. Only recognition of what’s happening between us.
I capture her mouth with mine, kissing her hard. My tongue pushes past her lips, demanding entry she readily grants. Her hands slide up my chest, fingers digging into my shoulders.
“Damir…” She gasps when I break the kiss to trail my lips down her neck.
I don’t answer with words. My body speaks for me as I press against her, letting her feel my hard cock and desire for her. I yank her shirt up, and she raises her arms, allowing me to pull it over her head and toss it aside.
Her simple cotton bra is practical, medical—nothing like the lace and silk my previous women wore, or that frothy confection she wore on our wedding night. Yet the sight of her in it drives me wild. I reach behind her, unclasping it with practiced ease, freeing her breasts.
“You scared me,” I murmur against her skin, my lips traveling down to capture a nipple. “When Valeriya called...”
Elena arches into my mouth, threading her fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice breathy. “I didn’t think?—”
“Stop talking.” I silence her with another kiss, rougher than before. My hands work at the waist of pants, pushing them down her hips along with her underwear.
She kicks them away, standing naked before me while I remain fully clothed. The power imbalance excites us both. I see it in her dilated pupils and the flush spreading across her chest.
I press her harder against the wall, sliding my hand between her thighs to delve into her pussy. She’s already wet and ready for me. I stroke her clit slowly, deliberately, watching her face as pleasure overtakes her.
“Damir, please.” She moans while fumbling with my belt. “I need you.”
I catch her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. “Not yet.”
I continue my assault on her senses, working her into a frenzy while I claim her neck, her breasts, and any skin I can reach with my mouth. She writhes against me, struggling against my grip, clearly desperate for more.
“Please,” she begs again.
This time I relent, releasing her hands to unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants. I free my cock and lift her in one smooth motion. She wraps her legs around my waist instinctively, pressing her back against the wall for support.
I position myself at her entrance, pausing for just a moment. Our gazes lock, and in that brief second, a message moves from one mind to another, an acknowledgment that this is more than physical, more than our convenient arrangement.
Then I thrust into her pussy, hard and deep. She cries out, digging her nails into my shoulders through my shirt. I establish a punishing rhythm, driving into her with all the fear and frustration of the past hours.
“Don’t. Ever.” I punctuate each word with a thrust. “Disappear. On. Me. Again.”
“I won’t.” Her head falls back against the wall. “I promise.”
I adjust my angle, hitting a spot that makes her moan louder. Her inner muscles clench around my cock as she trembles with approaching release.
“Damir,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I’m close.”
I increase my pace, gripping her thighs hard enough to leave marks. “Come for me, Elena.”
Her body obeys, shuddering against mine as she falls apart. The sight of her with head thrown back, lips parted, and eyes closed in ecstasy pushes me over the edge. I bury my face in her neck as I follow her into oblivion, my release tearing through me with unexpected intensity.
For several moments, we remain locked together, our breathing ragged. I support her weight easily, my face still hidden in the curve of her neck. The scent of her skin fills my senses.
Slowly, I lower her to the ground, letting her body slide against mine. Her legs tremble slightly as they take her weight. I step back just enough to look at her, appreciating her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and the marks forming on her neck and collarbone from my lips and teeth.
Mine , declares something primitive inside me. The thought should terrify me. Instead, it feels right.
Elena cups my cheek. The tenderness of the gesture catches me off guard. No one touches me this way, with affection rather than fear or desire.
“You were really worried about me,” she says softly.
I turn away, uncomfortable with my transparency. “You’re my responsibility.”
“Is that all?” Her question is gentle, probing.
I meet her gaze again. “What do you want me to say, Elena?”
“The truth would be nice.”
The truth. Such a simple request, yet so impossible to fulfill. The truth is I’ve spent my entire life avoiding attachments, but especially after Nikolai’s betrayal. The truth is, I’ve watched everyone I ever cared about either betray me or die, except for Anton. The truth is, Elena Clarke is becoming something dangerous to me, a weakness I can’t afford. “The truth is, you’re my wife,” I say finally. “For now.”
Disappointment flickers across her face, quickly masked. “For now.” She bends to retrieve her clothes, her movements graceful despite her nakedness. “I should shower,” she says, not looking at me.
I nod, tucking my cock back into my pants and fastening my belt. “I need a shower too, and then I have work to finish. I’ll use the one in the home gym.”
She pauses at the hallway entrance, glancing back at me. For a moment, I think she might say something more or push for the truth she knows I’m withholding. Instead, she simply nods and disappears toward the bathroom.
I listen to the sound of the shower starting, imagining the water cascading over her body, washing away the evidence of our encounter. My body stirs again at the thought, but I force myself to move toward the lower level and the home gym instead.
Instead of jumping in the shower, I first strip off everything and take a long, hard run on the treadmill. I’m trying to clear my thoughts, but my mind keeps replaying the past hour on a loop—the fear when Valeriya called, the relief when I found Elena safe, and the desperate need to claim her, to reassure myself she was real and whole and mine. I’ve never lost control like that before. Sex has always been a calculated act for me. Pleasurable, certainly, but never desperate. Never revealing.
I can’t stop thinking about the woman in my shower, about the way she looked at me with such clarity, seeing past my carefully constructed facade to the truth I refuse to acknowledge. The truth is that Elena Clarke is becoming more than an arrangement to me. I’m starting to care, and in my world, caring is the most dangerous thing of all.