Chapter 19 – Elara
I wake to gentle kisses on my forehead. My eyes flutter open, surprised to see Roman still in bed beside me, his gaze fixed on me, full of something I can’t quite name—something soft and dangerous all at once.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice low and warm. I feel my cheeks heat up and hide a small blush.
“Good morning,” I murmur back, trying to act casual though my heart skips.
“You should shower and get ready,” he tells me, eyes still on mine.
I frown. “Why? I’m not in the mood for anything right now.”
He just nods, calm as ever. “Then I guess I’ll have to call Sasha and Vivian and tell them to go back.”
“What?” I freeze. “Vivian is in New York?” I blurt, practically falling off the bed in excitement.
“Yes,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I arranged for her to come with Sasha so you can go out and enjoy yourself.”
A rush of happiness swells through me. I can’t help but grin.
“But,” he adds, eyes sharpening slightly, “you must go with your guards.”
I lean over and press a quick kiss to his cheek, my heart racing, before dashing into the bathroom, eager for the day ahead.
I barely close the bathroom door behind me before I start humming quietly to myself.
Excitement and nerves twist together in my stomach.
Vivian in New York, Sasha by my side, and Roman letting me go…
well, letting me go with guards. I can almost hear him hovering just outside the door, making sure I don’t try anything reckless.
By the time I leave the bathroom, he’s still lying in bed, his dark eyes watching me like a predator sizing up his territory. I feel self-conscious in my robe as I head toward the closet, trying not to let my nerves show.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask, trying to mask the flutter in my voice.
“I’d rather watch you dress up,” he replies, voice low and deliberate.
I hide another blush, fumbling with my clothes. My fingers tremble slightly as I slip into a black dress that clings and whispers over my skin, elegant but bold. By the time I choose my shoes, there’s a knock on the door.
“Come in,” I say.
Luka steps in. “Sasha and Vivian are in the foyer,” he says.
I barely contain my excitement and race toward the door, my heels clicking against the floor.
Roman clears his throat behind me, and I freeze. My back stiffens as I turn to face him. His eyes darken, and he frowns. “No goodbye kiss?”
I roll my eyes, cheeks heating, and step closer. Pressing my lips briefly to his, I let the kiss linger just long enough to feel the pull between us.
When I pull away, he rises from the bed, his movement fluid and commanding, and follows me down the hall. By the time we reach the foyer, the soft murmur of conversation stops as Sasha and Vivian see us. Their faces light up, and I rush forward, embracing them.
Roman hangs back slightly, his gaze still on me. There’s that familiar tension, the kind that makes my heart race. Sasha and Vivian chatter excitedly, catching me up on the plan for the day, but I can feel Roman’s presence like a shadow behind me.
As I move toward the door with the girls, I hear him give a quiet order to the guards: Eyes on her at all times. His voice is calm, but the threat in it makes the hair on my arms rise. If anything happens to her, I’ll take your lives.
Sasha and Vivian climb into the backseat of the waiting car, chatting and laughing, their energy infectious.
I am about to follow when I feel Roman’s hand slip over mine.
The touch is deliberate, strong, claiming.
He pulls me close and presses his lips to mine in a quick, sharp kiss, the intensity of it making my knees weak.
“Behave,” he murmurs against my lips, and I catch the low edge of warning threaded through the word. Then he releases me.
I step into the car, sliding into the leather seat, trying to focus on the girls’ conversation. But my pulse won’t settle. My mind can’t stop replaying that kiss, the weight of his hand, the fire in his eyes.
From the corner of the car window, I see him standing there, his posture rigid, every sense alert. He’s letting me go, letting me step into the day, but even in his absence from the car, his presence hangs over me like a tether I cannot cut.
“This is going to be a wonderful day,” Sasha says. “Where do we go first?”
I drag my attention away from the fading image of Roman in the mirror and turn to my girls.
“Where do you all want to go?” I ask, trying to focus on the excitement instead of the lingering tension in my chest.
“I haven’t really been around New York,” Vivian says, a hint of curiosity in her voice. “But this is about you. Roman made it clear that you’re to have fun.”
“He said that?” I raise an eyebrow, surprised.
“Yup,” Sasha nods, grinning. “He was very clear.”
Vivian teases softly, nudging me. “See? Your husband is very possessive. Possessive, but protective.”
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. “Too much,” I mutter, though a small smile threatens to break through.
Sasha leans closer, her voice gentle but teasing. “Elara, he really does care. That’s not just possessiveness—it’s protection. You’ve seen what he’s capable of. He won’t let anything happen to you.”
I bite my lip, feeling warmth creep into my chest despite myself. “I know,” I admit quietly. “I just…I don’t like feeling trapped, even if it’s by him.”
Vivian smirks knowingly. “You’re like a moth to a flame, Elara. Admit it—you love it as much as you hate it.”
I roll my eyes again, but can’t hide the slight blush that creeps up my neck. “Maybe. Just don’t tell Roman I said that.”
Sasha laughs softly. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us.”
“I think your relationship with Roman is fate, if you ask me,” Vivian says, her tone teasing but strangely earnest.
“How so?” Sasha asks, leaning in as I roll my eyes and groan.
“Vivia! This isn’t a romcom,” I mutter, trying to hide the twitch of curiosity that her words ignite.
Vivian laughs, undeterred. “I didn’t like Roman at first, but Sasha is right. He does care about you. And you care about him too.”
“What?” I sputter, nearly dropping my phone.
“Don’t lie to me!” Vivian scolds, pointing a finger at me. “You’ve never let a man come even close to you, Elara. But him? It’s like…it was always meant to be you and Roman. No one else fits.”
I open my mouth to respond, but close it again, my mind twisting with the truth I’ve been avoiding.
I wonder the same thing myself—that maybe, somehow, I was always meant for him—but I don’t say it out loud.
Instead, I stare out the window of the car, letting the city blur past as the thought lodges itself deep in my chest.
We have the best time.
First, we stop for breakfast at this cozy little café tucked between two tall buildings, sunlight pouring through the glass and bouncing off our laughter.
The coffee is strong, the pastries flake perfectly, and for a while, it feels like I’m just another woman out with her friends—not Roman Rusnak’s guarded wife.
After breakfast, we wander through the city.
The guards trail behind us, dressed casually enough to blend in, though I can still feel their eyes on me.
Sasha keeps taking pictures of everything—storefronts, pigeons, random street art—while Vivian buys souvenirs she doesn’t need. I just let myself breathe for once.
We move from one shop to another, arms full of shopping bags, laughter spilling into the streets. For the first time in weeks, I feel weightless. The city hums around me, vibrant and alive, and I let it sweep me up.
Eventually, we end up in a boutique—sleek, quiet, the air rich with perfume and soft music. Vivian gasps at a rack of dresses near the entrance, her eyes going wide at the shimmer of sequins. “Oh my God, look at this one!” she says, already holding a gown against her body in front of the mirror.
Sasha laughs. “Viv, where are you planning to wear that? A royal ball?”
“Maybe I’ll get invited to one,” Vivian shoots back, grinning.
Sasha drifts toward the jewelry stand, her fingers grazing over gold bracelets and diamond-studded chokers. “Now this—this I could get used to,” she says, sliding a necklace around her throat and admiring herself in the mirror.
I smile, wandering deeper into the store.
Everything feels impossibly luxurious—the soft rustle of fabric, the low hum of jazz, the faint scent of expensive perfume clinging to the air.
My fingers trail over silk and satin, beads and lace, until I find a deep emerald dress tucked away at the back.
It’s simple but breathtaking, with a neckline that dips low and a slit that promises trouble.
“Elara,” Vivian calls, “you have to try something on!”
“I’m fine just looking,” I say, though my voice sounds faraway even to me.
“Oh, come on!” Sasha appears at my side, thrusting a sleek black dress into my hands. “This one screams power and mystery. It’s so you.”
I roll my eyes, but take it anyway. “Fine. One dress. But if I end up hating it, you’re both buying lunch.”
They cheer as I disappear into the fitting room. Inside, the lighting is soft and flattering, the mirror almost too honest. I slip into the dress—it hugs every inch of me, smooth and cold against my skin. When I step out, Sasha lets out a low whistle.
“Damn. Roman’s going to need an oxygen tank.”
Vivian claps her hands. “You look incredible. That’s the one.”
I turn to the mirror, and for a second, I almost don’t recognize myself. I look…untouchable. Dangerous, even. A version of me that isn’t afraid.
Sasha grabs a handful of other dresses, and before long, the three of us are lost in the rhythm of trying things on, swapping clothes, laughing until our stomachs hurt. The attendants hover politely, occasionally bringing champagne and complimenting every outfit.
It’s light. Effortless. Almost normal.