Nikolai's Point Of View
I watched her.
Watched the way her lips parted ever so slightly before she took another bite, the way her lashes fluttered when the taste hit her tongue.
And God, I loved this. The sight of her enjoying something I made. Something that was hers.
She didn't know.
Not yet.
But she would... Eventually.
I leaned back in my chair, my fingers grazing the rim of my wine glass as I studied her. The soft glow of the chandelier bathed her in warm golden light, making her skin look even more inviting than it already was. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves, and that damn dress—the off-shoulder piece that clung to her like a second skin was an absolute distraction.
She looked up suddenly, catching me staring.
Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
I smirked, taking a sip of my wine before answering. "Like what?"
She set her fork down, crossing her arms. "Like you're up to something."
I chuckled. "Maybe I am."
