Semua Bab His Son, Her Secret: Bab 201 - Bab 210

“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

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.

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

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

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