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CIII : Flashback : Sweat, Smirks, and Shenanigans
Last Updated:
2025-02-28 18:11:06
Latest chapter
His Son, Her Secret CCVI : Touch Me Like You Own the War
BELVAThe flight from San Francisco to Moscow wasn’t exactly a short hop. Even with the Romanov private jet blazing through the skies like diplomatic ammunition, it still took nearly twelve nonstop hours. And considering I’d only slept three hours the night before, my body was starting to revolt.I leaned back in the seat, gazing at the now-quiet cabin. Max and Mischa were watching a movie, Clara had fully given in and was asleep with her hair covering half her face.One of the flight attendants approached, elegant in her gray uniform, with that perfectly neutral smile that suggested she was always prepared to be either slapped or tipped five hundred dollars. She gave a slight bow.“Mrs. Romanova, your suite is ready. Would you like to rest now?”I nodded, rising from my seat and following her through the main cabin aisle, past dark wood panels and subtly gilded inlays. Completely unnecessary, yet mesmerizing. We stopped at a sliding door that opened automatically when she touched the
His Son, Her Secret CCV : You Smell Like Lemon, Lavender, and the End of Me [Pascha]
Max dashed upstairs, dragging his little suitcase behind him, with Clara trailing after like an exhausted personal assistant. The sound of the suitcase wheels scraping against the floor mixed with Max’s laughter as it echoed down the stairs.“CECE! HELP ME PICK AN OUTFIT! I want something warm but also cool...like spy stuff!”“Spy stuff…?” Clara yawned, trudging after him. “You haven’t even showered.”Mischa sat on the stool, biting into her last piece of toast with the lazy stare of a boss who didn’t care. “I’m not packing,” she glanced at me. “My house is in Russia. Why would I bother?”Sure. I gave her a sweet smile. “We’re going to Moscow... and dropping you off on the way.”Mischa stopped chewing. Her eyes narrowed. “I told you I don’t want to go home,” she growled, like a tiny wolf cub.I shrugged. “Your Papa’s got a giant sword ready to chop my head off if I don’t bring you back.”Mischa slid off chair, walked toward me... and then suddenly tackled me right in the stomach.“Tra
His Son, Her Secret CCIV : Super Kiss [Pascha]
“Are you sure you want to cook?”I looked at Max. “Why not?”He winced, slouching forward onto the table, resting his chin on his arms. "You can't cook."I snorted. “I can learn.”“But I’m hungry now, not five hours from now.” Max snorted. “I’ll just eat some bread. Lots of jam. Then we wait for Mommy to wake up and save the morning.”That one hit.Here I was in Belva’s top-tier kitchen. Shiny marble counters, the best appliances, fresh ingredients and a four-and-a-half-year-old just knocked me down like a first-week MasterChef dropout.“Sure,” I muttered.Max chuckled, clearly satisfied. “Daddy, you look like a sad Batman.”In the end, I gave up. Took two slices of bread, spread way-too-expensive strawberry jam on them, and slid them across to Max.“Thanks,” he said like a little prince. “But more, Daddy. You forgot I have a supersonic metabolism.”I refilled his plate. Then made myself a cup of coffee. Black. Strong. Like the dignity I’d left somewhere between the failed batter and
His Son, Her Secret CCIII : marked you mine, again [Pascha]
The bed creaked loudly beneath us, each of my thrusts sounding like its final protest before the wood gave in.But she didn’t care. I cared even less.Our breath hit the walls, the ceiling, the windows fogged up from our body heat. Sweat soaked our skin, tracing invisible patterns down her spine as I pulled her hips tighter against mine.We were far beyond tender words. Tonight wasn’t about sweet love or careful touch. It was madness.Two people who had held on too long to the same grudge, the same longing, in the same place in their bodies.Her nails clawed at my back, her thighs locked tight around my waist, and she cursed in a language I didn’t fully understand but I got the message. She wanted more. And I gave her more.I wanted to leave marks on her neck, the side of her breast, beneath her collarbone. Proof that she is mine. Not with words, but with my body. With bites, moans, and the desperate sound of a bed nearly giving out.When it was over, we collapsed. Spent. Breathless.
His Son, Her Secret CCII : wetter when i lie
Pascha didn’t give me a chance to breathe.His lips crashed into mine again, but this time it was different. No longer gentle, no longer asking for permission. He struck, dominated, set every corner of my mouth on fire with explosive desperation.The hands that had held me so carefully now gripped my waist, pulling me so close there was no space left between us. I tried to keep up, but he was too fast, too wild. His tongue pushed in, digging, claiming, and all I could feel was heat spreading from my fingertips to my ribcage. My hands, once wrapped around his neck, now clawed at his shoulders.My nails might have left marks, but he pushed in deeper.He tugged at my bottom lip with his teeth, biting gently before sucking it in, and I moaned silently. His hand crept to the back of my neck, holding my head in place, making sure I couldn’t escape—as if I would.The air was thin, my mind foggy, but all I could feel was him. The scent of the ocean on his skin, the taste of salt on his tongu
His Son, Her Secret CCI : the last tear fell into his kiss
“Or maybe…” he said, “you don’t have to think about it anymore.”I frowned. “Pascha...”“Let me handle it,” he cut in. “All of it... the threats, the messages, Ben, Julian, your inheritance—everything. You’ve been the center of something you were never meant to carry alone for far too long.”I looked down, staring at my hands in my lap. The nail on my middle finger was chipped. I hadn’t even realized I’d started biting it again.“I can’t... not know anymore, Pash,” I murmured. “I was blind once. For five years. And I can’t do that again.”He didn’t answer. Just slowly moved closer.Pascha’s arm wrapped around my shoulder. Warm. Steady. I felt myself drawn to him like gravity. Too tired to fight it. I didn’t cry. I didn’t tremble. But when my head touched his chest, something inside me finally crumbled.Quietly.“Your breath’s still too heavy to carry all of this alone,” he whispered into my hair. “That’s enough, Bee. It’s my turn now to carry what’s left. To make it right.”I took a d
His Son, Her Secret CC : i named you safe.
The sky had started to turn orange as I walked slowly along the sidewalk by the beach. The sun leaned westward, and my shadow stretched long across the sand.My steps felt heavy, but I wasn’t ready to go home yet. Not ready to see Pascha, or Max, or the pile of realities waiting behind the gate of our house.My feet stopped in front of a small beachside stall with a woven roof. Never crowded, but always lively enough to lose yourself in the noise of the sea wind. The scent of fresh coconut and the rhythmic sound of an old man peeling them felt oddly comforting. Too familiar.Too Julian.I ordered a young coconut. Cold. Fresh. Just like that day, the one where I sat here with Julian, sipping coconut water and talking about anything and everything that wasn’t pain. I laughed that day. Today, it feels like there’s a stone sitting on my chest.I sat on the long wooden bench facing the ocean. Coconut water in hand, the plastic straw curling slightly toward me. I took a slow sip. It still t
His Son, Her Secret CXCIX : static on the line
Belva.My laptop glowed bright, a mess of HTML code, Python scripts, and encryption apps mashed together in a way that could give anyone a migraine in five minutes.Unfortunately, Kiano and I had been staring at it for almost two hours.“I feel like we’re trying to hack the Pentagon,” I muttered, massaging the bridge of my nose.Kiano didn’t answer. He just kept typing furiously, eyes squinting, laser-focused on the screen. The monitor’s light reflected off his slightly crooked round glasses. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up to the elbows, and he leaned into the desk with the kind of posture that, if not for the tech frustration, could almost pass as cool to a freshman crowd.I finally collapsed onto the couch, pulled a thin blanket over my legs, and let the laptop fend for itself.“I give up for now. I need... motivation,” I mumbled, pulling out my phone and opening my chatbox with Pascha.A video of Max and Mischa from Pascha lit up the screen. Max was showing off a DIY robot while
His Son, Her Secret CXCVIII : The General, The Dragon, and The Gourmet Rebel [Pascha]
Max and Mischa were deep in a debate over who got to be the general of their Lego army.“I have a tank!” Max shouted.Mischa shot back, “But I have a plan!”Life… still looked normal on the surface.Christian stood, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a black tablet that hadn’t been turned on yet. “You sure you don’t want to come into the office?”I didn’t answer. Just spun a pen between my fingers. Once. Twice. Then stopped.Christian finally turned, his gaze sharp. “What if Mrs. Romanova finds out who’s behind this?”I stayed silent, leaning back into the chair and letting my head rest against the leather cushion.If my wife finds out—Who’s really been pulling the strings behind all of this…Who started the unraveling five years ago,Who made her believe she’d been betrayed,Who made me lose her at the altar,Who orchestrated the video, the manipulation,And the wound she’s been nursing all on her own—She’ll break.Not just get angry. Not just hurt.She’ll break in a way I m
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