Maddy
MADDY
M ihai steps out of his father’s study, his jaw tight, his movements stiff with tension. The weight he’s carrying is almost visible in the way his shoulders hunch slightly, his usual effortless grace dampened by whatever news he’s just heard. I rise from the plush chair in the hall, my stomach twisting with worry.
He sees me and lets out a long breath, his eyes softening just enough to assure me I’m still his anchor in this storm. “Let’s go,” he murmurs, taking my hand without waiting for a reply.
The ride back to his penthouse is silent except for the low hum of the car. I don’t push him to talk, even though my mind races with questions.
I know better now—when Mihai is like this, he’ll speak when he’s ready. But the tight grip he has on my hand tells me he’s barely keeping it together.
When we arrive at the penthouse, the scent of something rich and savory greets us. Dinner is waiting, and Mihai silently gestures for me to sit at the sleek dining table while he pours us both a glass of red wine.
The tension in the air is suffocating. I can’t take it anymore.
“Mihai,” I say, my voice quiet. “What’s wrong?”
He freezes for a moment, the glass of wine halfway to his lips. He sets it down without drinking, running a hand through his curls.
“, there are things I can’t tell you for your own safety.”
I feel the sting of frustration but bite it back. He’s protecting me—I know that. But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.
“I get that,” I say softly, “but you’re scaring me. Just… tell me what you can.”
He sighs deeply, his eyes locking onto mine. There’s a storm in those dark depths, a mixture of anger, guilt, and something that looks a lot like fear.
“Cat and Marina were kidnapped.”
The air is sucked out of the room. For a moment, all I can do is stare at him, the words echoing in my head. Cat. Marina. Kidnapped.
The shock renders me speechless. From the memorial to this? It’s too much. My hand trembles as I reach for the glass of wine in front of me, taking a small sip to steady myself.
“How?” I whisper.
“Their SUV was ambushed,” Mihai says, his voice low and controlled, but I can hear the rage simmering beneath it. “It was supposed to be a simple drive to Marina’s penthouse. Konstantin was driving. He got them as far as he could, but…” He trails off, his fists clenching on the table
I swallow hard, my chest tightening. “Who else knew about the memorial?” I ask, my voice trembling. “Could someone have used it to plan this?”
Mihai shakes his head, his gaze darkening further. “Only those who were there knew. And I trust them.”
I nod, though my stomach churns with unease. If someone betrayed them, then Cat and Marina’s lives are hanging in the balance. The thought is unbearable.
We eat in silence after that, though neither of us has much of an appetite. The weight of what he’s just told me settles heavily between us, a grim reminder of how dangerous the world he’s part of really is.
When dinner is over, Mihai clears the plates and pours himself another glass of wine, staring out the window at the glittering city below.
I watch him, my heart aching. He’s carrying so much, and it’s clear this isn’t just about Cat and Marina—it’s about his responsibility and his need to control a situation that’s spiraling out of it.
I can’t stand seeing him like this. He’s done so much for me, and I want to do something for him. Something to make him forget, even for just a little while.
“Mihai,” I say softly, rising from my chair and walking over to him. He turns, his brows furrowing in question, but I don’t let him speak. I take his hand, lacing my fingers through his. “Come with me.”
He puts the glass down and lets me lead him to the bedroom, his confusion evident. Once we’re inside, I close the door behind us, shutting out the rest of the world.
The bedroom feels warmer than usual as I lead him inside, the city lights casting faint shadows across the walls. Mihai pulls off his jacket and tosses it onto the chair in the corner, his movements slower than usual.
I step closer, placing my hands on his chest, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. “Sit,” I say, pointing to the edge of the bed.
His lips twitch in a faint smirk. “You’re bossy when you want to be.”
“And you’re stubborn when you don’t need to be,” I counter, crossing my arms. “Sit.”
He chuckles under his breath, the sound low and warm, and does as I say, settling on the edge of the bed. “Alright, Miss Graves. Now what?”
I take a step closer, placing my hands on his shoulders. “Now, you let me take care of you for once.”
He raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “Take care of me, huh? And what does that involve?”
“Whatever I think will help,” I say, narrowing my eyes playfully. “Now, lie back.”
He lets out a mock sigh, falling back onto the bed with a dramatic flourish. “I guess I’ll allow it. But only because you asked so nicely.”
I laugh softly as I get on the bed to straddle him. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you keep me around.”
I smile, shaking my head as I lean over him. “Because someone has to keep you in check.”
“Oh, you’re very good at that, Little Rebel,” he murmurs, his voice taking on a softer, more intimate tone. His dark eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, the teasing fades, and he places his hands on my hips. “, you don’t have to do this.”
I cup his face gently, my thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
His hand slides to my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin as he looks at me with something deeper than just desire. Something softer.
“You’re dangerous, Madison Graves,” he says quietly, his tone serious now.
I let out a breathless laugh, my fingers brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “You’ve mentioned that before.”
“I wasn’t kidding,” he says, his hands tightening on my waist. “You make me want things I’ve never wanted before.”
My heart skips a beat at his words. “Good things, I hope.”
“The best,” he admits, his gaze dropping to my lips before flicking back to my eyes. “You make me want to let go. And that’s not something I’m used to.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just cup his face, letting my thumb brush over his cheekbone.
“Then let go,” I whisper. “Just for tonight. Just for us.”
Mihai stares at me like I’ve just thrown down the gauntlet, a challenge he wasn’t expecting. His jaw tenses, his hands tightening slightly on my waist before he exhales a shaky breath.
“You’re something else,” he mutters, shaking his head, but his lips quirk up in a faint smile.
I get off his lap and take his hand in mine, lacing our fingers together, and start pulling him toward the en suite bathroom. He raises an eyebrow but follows without resistance. When we step inside, I can’t help but roll my eyes.
His shower is ridiculously luxurious—glass walls, a rainfall showerhead in the ceiling, and sleek black-and-chrome fixtures. There’s even a built-in bench and a control panel on the wall that I assume does everything short of serving you coffee.
“You and your fancy, Bond-villain lifestyle,” I tease, running my hand over the marble countertop.
He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “What can I say? I have standards,” he says, stepping closer. “You’re mocking my taste now?”
“Just a little,” I admit with a grin. “But it’s hard not to mock when it’s this posh.”
He shrugs, his lips curving into a smirk. “If it impresses you, it’s worth it.”
I shake my head, biting back a smile, and reach for the controls. Warm water cascades from the rainfall showerhead, and steam quickly fills the space.
I reach for the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t stop me, lifting his arms so I can pull it off completely.
His tattoos ripple across his chest and arms as he moves, the intricate designs catching the light. My breath hitches as I take him in, my hands brushing over his warm skin.
I let my fingers trail over the burning rose tattoo near his heart, then down to the faint scars scattered across his torso. He watches me intently, his chest rising and falling steadily, though there’s a tension in his shoulders that tells me he’s still wound tight.
“You’re beautiful, Mihai,” I say softly and I watch as his smirk falters, replaced by a look of something I can’t quite place. Surprise? He glances away for a split second, like he doesn’t know what to do with the compliment.
“Beautiful, huh?” he says, his voice softer, almost sheepish. “Never been called that before.”
I laugh quietly, the sound echoing softly in the steamy shower. “What, no one’s ever complimented you before? I find that hard to believe.”
He scratches the back of his neck, the movement oddly endearing for someone who’s usually so confident, so larger-than-life.
“They have, but… not like that.” He glances back at me, his dark eyes meeting mine. “Not in a way that felt real.”
My chest tightens, and I let my hand rest on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Well, it is real. You’re beautiful, Mihai. Inside and out.”
His lips twitch into a small, uncertain smile, and I swear I can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck. The sight of it, of this man who’s always so in control looking so human, makes my heart squeeze in the best way.
I clear my throat and reach for his belt. “Let me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of the water.
His brows draw together slightly, but he nods. I undo his belt and slide it through the loops before pulling his pants down, along with his boxers. He kicks them aside, leaving him completely bare before me.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen him like this, but it still leaves me momentarily stunned. He’s all hard lines and raw power, his body a testament to discipline and strength. Yet there’s a vulnerability in the way he stands there, letting me take control for once.
I step back and pull the zipper of my dress down, letting it pool at my feet. Mihai’s gaze darkens as his eyes roam over me, but he stays where he is, waiting. I take his hand again and lead him into the shower, the warm water cascading over both of us.
He lets out a low groan as the water hits his skin, his head tilting back slightly. “Fuck, that feels good.”
I reach for the soap, lathering it in my hands before pressing them to his chest. His muscles tense under my touch at first, but as I begin to move my hands, working the lather over his skin, I feel him start to relax.
“This is different,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.
“What is?”
“You taking care of me,” he says simply, his eyes meeting mine. “I’m not used to it.”
I smile softly, my hands gliding over his shoulders and down his arms. “Get used to it, Crown Prince.”
He watches me closely as I continue, his body slowly but surely losing the tension it carried. My hands trace over the tattoos on his chest, the ones I’ve come to know so well, and I take my time, letting the water wash away the soap as I go.
“You’re good at this,” he says after a while, his tone lighter now.
“At washing you?” I tease.
“At making me feel like this,” he admits, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Like I can breathe again.”
I pause, my hands resting on his chest as I look up at him. His expression is open in a way that’s rare for him, and it makes my heart ache in the best way.
“You deserve a moment of calm, Mihai,” I say softly. “You deserve more than you let yourself believe.”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just looks at me like he’s trying to figure me out. Then he leans down, pressing his forehead to mine. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”
“You’ve mentioned it,” I whisper, my lips brushing against his. “A few times, actually.”
“Maybe I should’ve listened to myself,” he mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips.
I move behind him, running my hands over his back, my thumbs pressing gently into the knots of tension in his shoulders. His head falls forward, a low groan escaping his lips as the water streams over us.
“That good, huh?” I tease, smiling to myself.
“Don’t get cocky,” he grumbles, though the edge in his tone is softened by the obvious relief in his posture. “But… yeah. That good.”
I finish washing his back and move around to face him again, tilting my head up to meet his eyes. “Feel better?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, just stares down at me, his expression unreadable. Then he reaches out, his hand cupping my cheek as his thumb brushes over my jaw.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “But not because of the shower.”
Before I can respond, he leans down, capturing my lips in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second. The water pours over us, the steam wrapping around us like a cocoon, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and he sighs. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
“For what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“For knowing exactly what I need, even when I don’t,” he says simply, his lips brushing against my forehead.
My cheeks flush at his words, but I smile, my hands resting against his chest. “Anytime,” I say softly.
“Careful,” he teases, his smirk returning. “I might hold you to that.”
“You already do,” I reply, surprising even myself with the honesty in my tone.
His eyes darken, his grip on me tightening slightly. “Damn right, I do.”
I don’t know why, but I feel powerful knowing I’m the only one who can calm Mihai Vasile like this. And I can’t help but smile as I lead him to our bedroom later, knowing he’s going to seek comfort in me again.