Masuk~ Sylara POV ~ "Nick... that is seriously enough!" I complained for the umpteenth time as he casually pointed to yet another display case, completely ignoring my protests. He didn't just pick out a few clothes, he was buying out entire collections. And these luxury bags and shoes weren't just ordinary designer items—they were high-fashion pieces worth thousands upon thousands of dollars. "Didn't I tell you we were going out so I could treat you like my queen?" he asked, his deep voice smooth, entirely unbothered by the astronomical price tags. I let out a long, exhausted sigh, running my hand through my hair. "I know you said that, but this is way too much! I don't even need half of these!" I gestured wildly toward the mountain of boxes, heels, dresses, and leather bags currently being held by a small army of bow-tied store staffs. The moment we had walked into the exclusive boulevard mall, Nick had quietly signaled the security team to clear out the entire floor. He had
~ Sylara's POV ~ I stood at the edge of the shore, letting the cool beach breeze whip my hair and dress around my legs as I watched the waves crash onto the sand. The hotel possessed its own secluded, velvet-fenced beach, and I had wandered down here because my suite felt suffocating. I had never stayed in a high-end luxury suite in my entire life, and the vast, quiet space felt unnervingly huge. Nick was doing too much. I was terrified of getting used to him treating me like this. Once upon a time, he was cold, distant, and completely unpredictable—pushing me away one second and pulling me back the next. I knew I had literally begged him to go back to being that cold, aloof professor, but the man completely refused to listen. And I didn't want to get addicted to this soft, pampering side he was suddenly showing me. "Maman!" A burst of bright, ringing laughter snapped me out of my thoughts. My eyes drifted down the shoreline. A young French girl, probably around my age,
~ Nicholas's POV ~ I lied to her. It wasn't as if I'd planned to casually drop the fact that I was the Don of the most ruthless Bratva clan in Russia, but the sheer panic in her eyes when she brought up the word mafia gave me every reason to bury the truth. She told me she would run away if I belonged to that world. What she failed to realize was that when the truth finally surfaced, I wasn't going to give her the option to leave. I was completely consumed by her. I was never letting her go. Not her fear, not her resistance, not even death itself would separate her from me. Once I was finished dealing with Malachi, I would lay out the truth. And if she refused to accept it... I wouldn't hesitate to toss her into my private jet and drag her straight back to Moscow with me. As for her parents, I gave zero fucks about them. Those animals were the reason she had arrived at my gates sob-wracked and broken, and that was precisely why she'd refused to give me their names. She was t
~ Sylara's POV ~ Our flight to Paris took off at exactly ten o'clock the following morning. Deep down, I knew I should have declined. Every logical bone in my body was screaming at me to maintain a strict boundary between us, but the temptation was too strong. Besides, it wasn't like I was going to run into any of my university classmates in Paris. I didn't know a single soul in Paris, which made it the ultimate safe haven. More than that, after the agonizing way my parents had treated me last night, I needed to put as many miles between us as humanly possible. I still couldn't wrap my head around their betrayal. The slaps weren't even what truly broke me. I could have swallowed the physical pain if that was all they had done. The fact that they took Alfred's side after knowing the reason why he broke up with me—and why he wanted me back, made my heart bleed. Despite how they had been treating me ever since I made a vow not to get back together with Alfred, I still loved t
~ Nicholas's POV ~ I had spent almost the entire week in Russia dealing with ash, blood, and betrayal. The call had come in while I was still in Brooklyn—one of my captains frantically explaining that a suspected arson attack had ripped through one of our primary warehouses. Multiple men of mine were severely burned, some fighting for their lives. I had flown back to Moscow immediately with Jude and Thalia at my flanks to hunt down the rat. The investigation didn't take long. Every trail of gasoline and melted steel pointed directly to Malachi. The bastard was playing games with me again, trying to test my reach from across the Atlantic. I spent four agonizing days dragging his foot soldiers out of their holes, painting the Russian snow red to get answers. But his men were stubbornly loyal. None of them would give up his exact hiding spot in Brooklyn. They were six feet under the ground now because I made sure to kill each and everyone. I had returned to Brooklyn because,
~ Sylara's POV ~ "Is it true, you have a boyfriend who's a killer?!" my mom yelled at me. My eyes instantly flared to Alfred, shooting him a deadly glare. How dare he bring up what I said to him just to my parents? But of course he did. I should have remembered: Alfred never knew how to keep his pathetic mouth shut. "Answer me, Lara! Do you have a boyfriend who's a killer?!" my mom roared, her face contorting with a mix of disgust and fury. "No, I don't!" My voice shook, but I forced it to stay steady. "And I don't have a boyfriend to begin with!" Alfred scoffed, leaning back with a sickeningly smug look. "Come on, Lara. Don't deny what you said to me. Not in front of your parents." Underneath the table, my nails dug so hard into my palms that I was sure they would bleed. I clenched my fists, staring at him as if I could set him on fire with my mind. "What did she say to you, Alfred?" my dad demanded. "She told me she has a boyfriend now," Alfred said, his tone dripp







