Roman
"My bad girl."
We found ourselves alone in the silence, where only the echoes of our breathing could be heard. The large yet cozy roomâmy officeâfelt like a world outside of time. Papers, drafts of important documents, and a mug of cold coffee lay scattered across the massive wooden desk, now merely the backdrop for our converging worlds.
I gazed at her, my eyes both focused and soft, as if searching for answers within hers. Her eyelashes fluttered as she noticed my fingers lightly brushing the edge of the desk, seeking support as I kissed my wifeâthe woman I had almost lost. The one I couldn't live without.
In that simple gesture, there was uncertainty mixed with longing. She could sense the growing tension between usânot the kind that pushes apart but the kind that pulls closer, like a magnet, an invisible thread tying two hearts destined to be together. I continued to hungrily kiss her lips, knowing that at any moment, Mel might awaken and shut me out, pushing me away.
Her hand trembled slightly as she leaned against the desk to steady herself. My fingers instinctively reached for her palm, and when our skin touched, I felt warmth spread through my entire body. The touch was light, almost weightless, yet so significant it seemed to halt the world around us.
I stepped closer, positioning myself between her legs, feeling how every fiber of my being had missed my "bad girl." Now, only millimeters separated us. The air was filled with the delicate, floral scent of her perfume, laced with a faint bitterness that intoxicated me. But reality came rushing back too soon.
She struck me.
"Don't you dareâ"
"Kiss you?" I smirked. "I already did. You're my wife." My fingers traced her lips. "These lips are mine." I wrapped an arm around her neck. "Your neck, and the heartbeat I feel under my skin, are mine too."
"In your dreams," Mel said, swallowing hard. "We're divorcing soon."
"Even if we do, I'll marry you again and again."
"Why?" Mel laughed bitterly. "You think I hated you? That's not true. I loved you. I bore your childrenâchildren I thought were dead. If you'd listened to the rest of that conversation, you'd know you were the most important person to me."
Her words shocked me. I forgot how to breathe, think, or even comprehend.
"You..."
"Yes," she nodded. "I loved you, but you broke my heart. And you weren't even there. You thought I didn't care." She sighed sadly.
I gently moved her hand away, feeling a strange force pull me to my knees between her legs.
"Please," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"And?"
"And I'll do anything you want."
"Really?" She smiled. "I thought you never cared about others."
"But you're not just 'others.' You're the woman who can make me kneel and beg."
Mel blinked.
"You never said that during our marriage," she exhaled. "Get off your knees, Roman. This won't bring back our past or change anything."
"I know." My head hung low. "But this is your power over me. Do with me whatever you want."
"Why would I need that now when I needed you then?"
"At least now I know you want me. All of you."
"What are you talking about?"
"I heard you tell Mom I disgusted you."
"Stand up," Mel demanded, swallowing. "Your stupid brain should have listened to the end of that conversation. You would've known you were the meaning of my life."
As I stood up, she added, "Thanks for cleaning the floors."
I smirked and slowly stood up.
When I finally spoke, my voice trembled with emotion:
"Do you think you'll ever... ?"
But I didn't finish. She looked at me challengingly, a faint smile on her lips. This moment was too fragile to ruin with words.
Instead, she leaned forward, her hair cascading down, a few strands brushing my shoulder. I froze. Our faces were so close I could feel the warmth of her breath. But she didn't rush. Her eyes studied me intently, as if searching for permission.
I gave it, closing my eyes. And in that moment, when our lips finally met, the room seemed to explode with invisible light. This wasn't just a kissâit was a confession, a promise without words.
Our kiss was deep, intense, and filled with all the emotions we had suppressedâpassion, longing, and finally, release. When it ended, I held her tighter, whispering against her hair:
"I'll never let you go again."
She laughed, her voice ringing like music.
"And I'll never forgive you," she said with a devilish smile.
What followed was a turbulent mix of emotions and revelations. But one thing was clear: no matter the pain, the betrayal, or the distance that had grown between us, something unbreakable still tied us together. Whether it was love, regret, or both, it was undeniable. And she knows it, but Mel will never admit it.
She laughed, her laughter ringing out clear and sincere, like music.
"I will never forgive you." My wife moved away from me and said these words again. "I don't need a man anymore. It's men like you who need me."
My smile faded as she lowered her legs to the floor and stood up. I could see the pain she was in, but I was still trying to process what she had just said.
"What?" I asked when Mel slowly patted me on the shoulder, then intertwined her fingers with mine.
"Shut up. I won't fall in love with you again, Roman Kirillov," her eyes gleamed strangely. "But I have a better plan."
"What kind of plan?" I asked as we moved toward the door, slowly and carefully, so her stitches wouldn't tear.
"First, I'll tell you something, then we'll wait for my brother, and you'll see." As the door opened, our skin was no longer touching because she bent to pick up the IV bag filled with liquid medicine.
"You were playing a game, weren't you?"
"Oh, are you talking about our kiss?" Mel bit her lip. "That's right. I played and I won. Now you know what it's like to lose something you desire, so don't ever do that again. Everything that happens tonight is for my own purposes, and when it's over, so is our era."
"We have children."
"They're *my* children."
"They're ours," I corrected her. "That was your sperm spilling out, so..."
"Believe me, my plan has a place for your ego," her lips twitched. I decided to drop the subject for now and just silently observe her.
She knew what she was doing, but that didn't make it easier. Gritting her teeth, she tugged on the clear IV tube, feeling the cold sting where the needle slipped out of her vein. Her hand trembled slightlyânot from pain, but from the understanding that this act would be the final word in our argument. Now everyone would know Melissa Kirillova was wounded and could have died.
The corridor was dead silent. Only the faint ticking of a clock warned us of the consequences. She pressed her hand to the puncture wound and secured it with a plaster already attached to the needle. Her hand was clean, but inside her, a storm was raging. I could see itâonly I could.
Leaning against the wall, I watched her. Her heart was pounding so hard she feared the sound would wake the world. Even from here, I could hear it.
When my wife turned to me with the IV bag in her hand, I felt a sudden shift in the air. The corridor grew dense, tense. She took a few steps before handing me the bag, which I caught deftly.
"And now?"
"Now we're going to hell."
I raised an eyebrow. "If it's with you, I'm in."
We were moving somewhere when Dean suddenly appeared. His figure filled the narrow corridor, as if he had materialized out of thin air. His eyes burned with anger he didn't bother to hide, his face twisted in a mix of rage and worry. He immediately noticed her arm and the poorly attached IV tube.
"Have you lost your mind?" His voice sliced through the silence like a whip.
She tried to pass him without responding, but he stepped forward, blocking her path. His tall frame loomed over her, and her confidence faltered.
"Did you hear me? You said you'd be careful," he growled, his voice sharp but barely restrained.
She raised her head to meet his gaze. His eyes held not only anger but something elseâfear, disguised as fury.
"I don't owe you an explanation for every decision I make," Mel replied calmly but firmly, though her voice wavered slightly.
"No, you don't. But I care!" he barked, his fists clenching. "This isn't just about you. Do you think I don't care what happens to you?"
He exhaled sharply, as if the words had escaped before he could think them through. I stood nearby, watching their strange dynamic with interest.
"You don't understand, Dean," she finally said, avoiding his gaze. "This is my body, my life. I can't keep doing everything you want from me. Just leave and wait in the car. Oh, and find Misha. I don't want men yelling at me, and I certainly don't want you interfering with my decisions."
His stare hardened, but inside, he was breaking apart. He couldn't bear to see herâstubborn, resolute, the woman he'd protect with his lifeâand feel this helpless.
"You always do things your way," he whispered, almost to himself. "You don't even realize how this could end. You were on the edge of lifeâthat's no joke."
"I know exactly how it could end," Melissa replied, stepping closer to him, which prompted me to move as well. Her voice was firm, but laced with pain. "I live with that every day, Dean. I'm always on the edge."
His fists unclenched, and he stepped closer, gently placing his hand on her shoulderânot demanding, but soft, as if trying to convey his concern without words.
"I can't lose you, do you understand?" he whispered. "You're my friend."
With my free hand, I pushed him away.
"Very touching, but touch her again, and it'll be *your* life on the edge," I said coldly.
"You're out of your..."
"Shut up, both of you!" Mel shouted. "God, if either of you says another word, I'll rip out your throats and hang them on my trophy wall."
I almost smiled at how commanding she sounded. God, I really am married to a queen.
When Dean and I both nodded, she leaned on me and shot him one last glance.
"Good boys. Now wait in the car, Dean. I'll explain everything later." A silent war of gazes passed between them before Dean finally turned and left.
Without hesitation, I scooped her into my arms, still holding the IV bag in the other hand.
"Hey!"
"Now you be quiet," I muttered. "Just tell me where to go, and we'll finally sort out this mess."
"The living room," she snapped. "Because now, I'll tell you who the traitors are."
I stopped at the entrance to the living room, where I noticed Kirill.
"And who are they?" Curiosity gnawed at me.
"Leah, Kirill..." she began whispering in my ear, "and my mother."