MIKHAIL.
I caught the way she tried to hide her blush — it was subtle, but there.
Cute.
She cleared her throat and looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. Then stood from my bed, brushing invisible creases from her dress like I hadn't just seen through her.
"I don't think we should stay in the same room," she said, voice sharp but shaky.
"Why the fuck not?" I snapped, louder than I intended.
"We're not a real couple," she bit back. "We don't have to sleep together— in the bed or in... that way."
I scoffed. "We need everyone to believe we're together, Aria. That includes sharing a room."
She rolled her eyes with a scoff of her own.
I stepped closer, dropping my voice. "We'll partition the bed. You'll stay on your side; I'll stay on mine. We don't have to do anything you don't want."
"We won't do anything at all," she affirmed firmly. Then, turned and left my room.
I smirked.
She could deny it all she wanted, but I knew how she reacted around me — the blush, the stammer, the way she couldn't hold my gaze for more than a second.
She's going to give in.
Maybe not tonight.
But soon. My pretty little malyshka will be mine soon enough.
ARIA.
I'd walked aimlessly through the halls of the estate for about forty-five minutes. The mansion was beautiful but everywhere was so quiet, it didn't even seem like there were people in the house. Was Mikhail still in his room? I sighed as I pushed open the double glass doors at the back of the estate.
The sharp crack of fists hitting pads, followed by deep grunts, reached my ears as the cool wind hit my face. I followed the sound till I reached a wide expanse of land behind the estate.
Training equipment was scattered everywhere — weights, sparring dummies, and all kinds of gear I'd used back at home.
About ten men stood in a line on one side, firing guns at distant targets with deadly focus. In another corner, a few were doing pushups and squats, their muscles straining under the scorching sun.
But it was the center that drew my attention.
A squared ring, elevated slightly, where men traded punches with brutal precision.
And in the very middle of it all… was my new husband.
I stopped at the edge of the stone path, just far enough to stay hidden behind a low column. My eyes stayed on him.
Mikhail.
He was shirtless, sweat slicking his skin, muscles tight with every motion. His fists moved with controlled precision.
He ducked a jab, spun his opponent, and landed a clean uppercut that sent the man stumbling.
God.
There was something almost hypnotic about the way he moved, the raw strength behind every strike. He seemed almost...feral.
I shouldn't have been staring.
But I was.
I wasn't even pretending not to.
I crossed my arms, trying to convince myself I was studying him — analyzing his form, not… admiring it.
But then one of the fighters looked up and caught sight of me.
Then another.
And another.
Their rhythm faltered as they stared at me.
Mikhail noticed instantly.
He followed their gaze, his jaw tightening the moment he realized why they were distracted. His eyes met mine — for half a second — before he turned back and unleashed hell.
In less than ten seconds, he'd dropped two of them.
A hard punch to the ribs.
A sweep of the leg.
A merciless fist to the throat.
They hit the mat like puppets with their strings cut.
Silence fell across the yard.
And then he stepped out of the ring.
Eyes locked on me, glowing with sweat.
He didn't say a word as he closed the distance between us.
And my heart — traitor that it was — skipped.
His nostrils flare, and the next moment, he crashes his lips to mine. Someone gasps behind me and I can barely hear the quick, panicked footsteps of his men scrambling away
Mikhail's squeezes my ass with one hand and the other slowly climbs to grab my neck. I moan at the pressure and his swelling bulge, responds. I've never been fully intimate with a man, but I've had some experience. Limited experience, it seems.
Mikhail's bulge is as intimidating as his kisses. He possesses me wholly when he kisses me. I can hardly register anything else. Nothing else but him…and me.
"Fuck baby, 🇷🇺 Я люблю, когда ты отдаёшься мне."
I love it when you give yourself to me, he whispered in my ear. That snapped me back to reality. I wasn't his. I wasn't anyone's.
I pushed him away, wiped my lips with the back of my hand and stormed off without a word. This shit had to stop. I had to stop allowing Mikhail kiss and touch me. He'd fucked up my brain enough.
This was a partnership. One that would end in a year. I needed to grow the fuck up and stop acting like an easy lay.
MIKHAIL.
I tilted my head back and let the hot water glide through my hair. I was trying —and failing —to not think about Aria.
That kiss was as passionate as our first one had been.
I'd come to terms with the fact that Aria and I had the most chemistry I'd felt with anyone. She hated me because she knew it too.
I wasn't offended by her reaction on the field. It was expected, to be honest. I tsked in annoyance by the semi hard-on I still had. That shower hadn't done shit. But I wasn't going to jerk off to thoughts of Aria in the shower.
I would wait for my malyshka to want me so desperately, she'd come to me of her own accord. I was getting harder just thinking about it.
Nope. We're done. I reached for my towel and let it slide across my shoulders, soft against damp skin. I hoped Aria wouldn't be too pissed to have dinner. I really want to eat with her. A sigh escapes my mouth as I leave my bathroom.