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CVI : Flashback : Playing with Fire
Last Updated:
2025-02-28 22:32:27
Latest chapter
His Son, Her Secret CCIX : handsome, dangerous, and unforgivably mine
Pascha’s room still smelled exactly the same as it did years ago. A blend of damp cedar, and something unmistakably masculine, undeniably Pascha Romanov. I stood at the of the tall, open window, letting the late afternoon light filter through the pine branches and brush against my face. From here, I could see the backyard.Natalia sitting on the stone bench, her silver hair fluttering gently in the breeze, while Alexandr, wrapped in a long wool coat, hoisted Max up onto his shoulders. Max laughed like there was no world beyond the safety of his grandfather’s shoulders. Mischa stood nearby, swatting at fir branches with one hand, chattering away to Trisha.Behind me, Pascha was stretched out on the bed. Shirtless, of course. Always shirtless. His hair was slightly tousled from his bad habit of running his fingers through it whenever he was deep in thought. The tablet in his hand glowed with graphs and data way too complex for me to understand, but his eyes kept flicking toward me fro
His Son, Her Secret CCVIII : Cece Knew. And So Did Everyone Else.
Igor calmly sliding a hefty piece of meat onto each of Max and Mischa's plates. “You both have meat now. If you keep fighting, I’ll eat everything.”Down at the end of the table, I was quietly spooning tasteless salad onto my plate and staring at Clara.She sat calmly across from me, lazily nibbling at a bite of stroganoff like she had nowhere better to be. No guilt on her face. No attempt to explain anything. Just silence and the peaceful expression of a professional traitor.I leaned in slightly, eyes sharp. “Cece,” I called her, “you... kissed... Igor.”She just took another bite, one brow arched like it was no big deal. “I know.”Before I could kick her under the table, Natalia chuckled and gently patted my hand.“Belva, sweetheart... you should’ve known. We’ve known Clara long before you hired her.”I blinked. “What?”Natalia turned to her husband, who simply nodded while slicing his steak like there wasn’t a full-blown drama exploding two feet away.“She worked with Pascha,” Na
His Son, Her Secret CCVII : if i jump, will the snow catch me again?
The SUV glided slowly through the chilly Moscow streets, Max sat on Pascha’s lap in the middle seat, pointing out the window. “Is that Grandma and Grandpa’s house, Daddy?” “That’s the boring ambassador’s house,” Pascha answered, one arm around Max. “Ours is deeper into the forest.”Max frowned. “They live in a forest? Like… like ELSA?”Pascha chuckled. “Elsa didn’t have a security system like the Romanov Mansion.”I sat next to them, Mischa curled gently in my lap. Her soft curls brushed against my chin, warm and silky. She was fast asleep... and what surprised me most was that she had actually asked for it earlier.“Tetyaa... hold me. I wanna sleep on your lap,” she had whispered at the airport before we landed.And I could never refuse Mischa when she got that soft.Meanwhile Clara was passed out in the backseat.Outside the window, the city lights were slowly giving way to tall trees and old stone walls. The streets of Moscow always reminded me of things unfinished..My mind start
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
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