Nikolai hadn't planned on making any stops after what he'd just done, but as he lit a cigarette and rolled his wrist on the steering wheel, he found himself turning into the bakery district instead of heading back to the estate. The tension from dealing with Alexei still throbbed beneath his skin. His knuckles were sore from clenching the steering wheel too hard, and the smell of whisky and gunpowder seemed to linger in his nose. He needed to feel something else—something human. Something warm.
He parked the car outside his favorite old pastry shop, a quaint little corner place that smelled like melted butter and nostalgia. The owner, a kind older woman named Odette, greeted him with a mixture of suspicion and familiarity. She didn't know what he did, but she knew enough to know he wasn't the type you crossed.
"Good evening, Nikolai," she said, her voice laced with a French accent. "It has been a long time."
"Bonsoir, Odette," he replied, forcing a smile as he approached the glass display. "I need your best pastries. Something soft, sweet. Something... gentle."
She looked him up and down, noticed the tiredness in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged as if the weight of something invisible threatened to crush him. Without another word, she boxed a dozen fresh pastries—a mix of cream puffs, eclairs, almond croissants, and fruit tarts—and wrapped them in a blue ribbon.
"For someone special?" she asked, handing the box over.
He nodded. "Very."
He paid in cash and left with a short nod, the scent of butter and sugar trailing him as he climbed into his car again. The pastries rested on the passenger seat like a fragile secret. But he wasn't done yet.
There was a gift shop a few blocks away. It was small and run by a young couple who imported delicate little trinkets, hand-made items that spoke more of thought than luxury. That's what he wanted—something simple. Not a diamond worth more than a private jet.
He stepped inside, browsed in silence until he saw it: a small silver charm bracelet, delicate but not overly fancy. Each charm was shaped like a little star, and one dangled heart-shaped charm bore the inscription "To the one who steadies storms."
That was her. Elara.
He bought it and had the clerk wrap it neatly in a soft velvet pouch, then placed it beside the pastries. He pulled out his phone as he walked back to the car.
Nikolai: Are you available now? I'm parked outside your apartment. I want to see you.
He didn't press send immediately. He stared at the message, rereading it as if it could somehow soften the truth of the life he lived. Then he hit send.
Inside the apartment, Elara was curled up on the couch in her soft cotton shorts and a baggy t-shirt with a faded cartoon rabbit on the front. Her hair was piled messily on top of her head, and she was in the middle of scrolling through old messages from Maya when her phone buzzed.
Her heart skipped when she saw his name.
Nikolai: Are you available now? I'm parked outside your apartment. I want to see you.
She sat up instantly. "Shit."
It was 9 PM. She hadn't showered. She hadn't even brushed her hair properly since noon. And now he was outside?
She replied quickly.
Elara: I'll be down in a minute.
She jumped to her feet, nearly tripping on the blanket as she dashed to her room. She opened the closet and stood there for a moment, overwhelmed. What if he wanted to take her somewhere again? What if this was just a casual visit? She had no idea what to expect.
She texted Maya.
Elara: He's outside. Nikolai. He wants to see me. I have no idea why or what to wear. HELP.
Maya responded almost immediately.
Maya: Simple outfit. It's 7PM, babe. Probably a surprise visit. Something cute but chill. Also, PUT A CONDOM IN YOUR PURSE. JUST IN CASE.
Elara gasped aloud, cheeks flushing. "Oh my God, Maya," she whispered, but she still reached into her drawer and threw a packet into her purse because well… better safe than sorry. Not that she thought anything would happen. But what if?
She changed into a soft lilac sundress that hugged her hips but didn't scream "I planned this." She brushed out her hair, swiped a bit of tinted balm over her lips, sprayed perfume once behind each ear, and stared at her reflection.
Her heart pounded. It wasn't just nerves. It was something else. Something deeper. There was a man outside—a man who had given her diamonds and roses and stared at her like she was more than the mess she often felt she was.
She stepped out of her apartment, locking the door behind her. Her heels clicked lightly down the hallway, echoing in the quiet building. As she pushed open the front entrance and stepped outside, the night air wrapped around her like a second skin.
And there he was.
Nikolai leaned against his black car, head tilted slightly as he looked at her. The shadows of the night clung to him, his frame imposing even in the dim streetlight. He wore a black turtleneck and tailored slacks, his hair slicked back, his eyes unreadable—except when they landed on her. Then they softened.
She approached slowly, the sidewalk cold under her flats, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
And with every step closer, her breath caught in her throat, her nerves tingled.
Nikolai pushed off the car and stood straight.
"Sorry for coming by unannounced," he said as she slid into the passenger seat.
She buckled herself in and turned to him, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's perfectly fine," she assured him with a small smile.
He reached into the back seat and handed her a white paper bag, the smell of warm pastries wafting through the car. "Got you something. Thought you might like these."
Her eyes lit up as she took the bag and peeked inside. "Pastries? You're spoiling me."
"And this," he added, producing a small box from the gift store. It wasn't extravagant, just a tiny hand-painted music box with stars and moons etched into the wood.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, touched by the simplicity and thought behind the gift.
He just shrugged as he started the engine and pulled out into the street. "Didn't want anything flashy this time. Just something simple."
"So... where are we going?" she asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
"No idea," he said with a chuckle. "I just knew I wanted to see you. Hear your voice. Your laugh."
Her cheeks flamed. She looked out the window quickly, biting her lip.
What he didn't say was that a darker part of him wanted to pull over, drag her into his lap, and claim her until all she could think about was his name and not hers. That part of him was loud, always hungry, always burning. But Elara wasn't like the women he used to entertain. She wasn't a one-night story, an afterthought. She was a beginning he didn't know he'd needed.
He focused on the road, gripping the wheel a little tighter. Elara watched him from her side, noting the tension in his jaw.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft.
He turned to her and smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just had a rough day at work. I needed to see you afterwards."
Her blush returned with full force, and he loved that. Loved the way she could turn red so easily, so honestly. It made her real. Untouched by the world he came from.
They drove in silence for a few moments before he pulled the car off the main road, heading toward a hill he used to go to as a teenager. It gave a breathtaking view of the city skyline—glimmering lights, endless roads, and the soft hum of life below them.
He parked the car at the edge of the overlook, cut the engine, and turned to her.
"Come here often?" she joked, trying to break the tension.
He chuckled. "Used to. When I needed to breathe."
"And tonight you needed to breathe?"
"Tonight I needed you," he said simply.
Her heart skipped a beat. The quiet stretched, but it wasn't awkward—it was thick with unspoken things, loaded with unshed words.
They sat there, watching the city. Talking about everything and nothing.
She told him about the time she got lost on a school field trip. He told her about a street race he won at seventeen. She laughed until her stomach hurt. He soaked in every sound, every movement of her lips.
Then silence again.
A different kind of silence.
He looked at her. Her lips. Her neck. The pulse beneath her skin. He didn't mean to lean in. Didn't mean for his hand to rest against her cheek. Didn't mean for their breaths to mingle, for his mouth to find hers.
But it happened.
He kissed her.
Softly at first.
Testing.
Tasting.
She didn't pull away. Her hand found his chest, and he deepened the kiss, breathing her in. But then the beast inside him stirred. The urge to grab her, lift her dress, and bury himself in the warmth of her hit him like a punch to the gut.
His fingers twitched.
She gasped into his mouth, and that nearly undid him.
But he pulled away, breathing hard, eyes dark.
The car was quiet, except for the low hum of the engine and the faint sound of the city breathing in the distance. Nikolai's breath was shallow, his hand still resting on the steering wheel as he stared ahead, pretending the view of the skyline was holding his attention. But it wasn't. Not really.
He could still feel her lips on his.
That kiss—God, that kiss had undone him. He hadn't meant to lean in. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't. He'd told himself he would just sit there and enjoy her company. Her voice. Her laughter. But she had looked at him like he was more than the monster he knew himself to be, and it had wrecked every wall he'd spent years building.
So, he kissed her. And for a moment, he allowed himself to feel.
But then he'd pulled back. He had to. He looked at her now, sitting there beside him, her eyes shy and bright under the moonlight. Her dress had ridden up just a little when she shifted in her seat, revealing more of her smooth thigh than was fair.
He looked away quickly, dragging in a sharp breath.
He started the car again, and they drove in a comfortable silence, her fingers occasionally brushing against the paper bag of pastries he'd given her earlier. She kept glancing at it, the thoughtful little box from the gift store resting on top of it like a crown.
He hadn't told her what was inside yet. It wasn't flashy, not like the necklace he'd given her before. Just something small. Something simple. A charm bracelet with a single charm—a tiny book.
Because she liked to read. And because he listened.
When he finally pulled up in front of her apartment building, neither of them moved.
Elara looked out the window, her fingers tightening around the box of pastries. She didn't want the night to end. She didn't want him to go.
She turned to him, nervous energy buzzing under her skin. "Would you..." she cleared her throat, pretending to adjust her bag, "Would you like to come inside for coffee?"
He looked at her, his face unreadable for a beat too long. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"I'd like that."
She swallowed hard, her heart skipping. She hadn't even gotten out of the car yet and her knees already felt weak. She reached for the door, trying to steady herself.
Nikolai stepped out first, walking around to her side. He opened her door like a gentleman, like he hadn't just spent the entire drive back fighting the urge to press her against the passenger door and lose himself in her.
She stepped out, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second. He didn't touch her. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But instead, he just stood there, letting her lead the way.
She did, biting her lip the entire walk up the steps.
Inside her apartment, the lights were dim, warm, cozy. He paused at the door, taking in the scent of her—vanilla and lavender and something else that was uniquely Elara. She motioned for him to sit on the couch while she moved to the small kitchen.
"Make yourself comfortable," she said softly.
He sat, watching her move with ease, her bare feet padding against the floor, her hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. He didn't say anything, just watched.
She made two cups of coffee, then hesitated. Should she bring cookies? Was that too much? She didn't know. Everything felt like a question with him. A slow burn of anticipation.
She brought the mugs over and handed him one.
"Thanks," he murmured, fingers brushing against hers as he took it.
They sat in silence again, sipping slowly.
Finally, she spoke. "So... rough day at work?"
He gave a dry chuckle. "You could say that."
She leaned slightly toward him. "Want to talk about it?"
He shook his head. "Not really. I just wanted to be here. With you."
She blinked, her chest tightening. Her coffee suddenly seemed less interesting.
"You always know what to say to make me blush," she mumbled.
He grinned, setting his cup down.
"That's because I mean it."
She looked at him, and he saw it again. That softness in her eyes. That belief that he could be more than a criminal. More than the man who pulled a trigger earlier that day and poured whiskey on the wound.
He leaned closer.
And she didn't move away.
But he stopped himself. Again. His jaw tightened.
She frowned. "Nikolai... you can kiss me, you know. I won't bite."
He laughed. "It's not that."
"Then what?"
He looked down at his hands. "Because if I kiss you again, I won't be able to stop."
She blinked.
"What if I don't want you to stop?"
His head shot up, eyes meeting hers.
She hesitated. Then, slowly, nervously, she reached into her purse. Pulled something out.
A condom.
She held it in her palm, her fingers trembling slightly as she gave him a bashful smile. "Maya told me to put it in my bag. Just in case. I thought she was crazy. But..."
She trailed off.
He stared at it. Then at her. Then back at it.
For a moment, he said nothing.