Page 12 of Captured By the Russian Wolf

He took a step back, his expression once again unreadable, the passion that had been burning in his eyes only seconds ago now replaced by an icy mask. It was as though a switch had flipped inside him, and the man who had just been kissing me with such intensity had vanished.

"What...?" My voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. "Why did you stop?"

Nikita's jaw clenched, his eyes dark and cold as they met mine. "This isn't happening."

The harshness of his words stung more than I wanted to admit. I took a shaky breath, my mind racing to catch up with the abrupt shift in his demeanor. A moment ago, he'd been all over me, his touch igniting something in me I hadn't felt in so long. And now, it was as though nothing had happened at all.

"Nikita," I started, my voice still thick with confusion and desire. "What the hell?—"

"This isn't happening, Lily," he repeated, his tone sharp, final. He took another step back, putting more distance between us, as if he needed to physically remove himself from the situation.

I blinked at him, my body still trembling from the intensity of what had happened between us. "But... you?—"

"It was a mistake," he cut me off, his voice clipped, emotionless. "We can't?—"

"You kissed me first! You started this, Nikita. Don't act like it meant nothing." I clenched my fists, my frustration boiling over.

His eyes flashed briefly with something I couldn't place—regret, maybe, or something darker. But just as quickly, his expression hardened again, his walls snapping back into place. "It was nothing," he said, his voice so cold it sent a chill down my spine. "And it won't happen again."

I stared at him, stunned, unable to believe what I was hearing. My mind was spinning, my heart still racing. But now, he stood there, distant and cold, as if I didn't matter at all.

Nikita turned toward the door, his back to me, and for a moment, I thought he might just walk out and leave me standing there, confused and hurt. But he paused, his hand on the doorframe, his head tilted slightly as if he was debating whether or not to say something.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "This can't happen. You need to remember your place."

I opened my mouth to argue, to push back against the walls he was firmly wedging between us, but no words came. The heat, the passion, the undeniable connection we had—it had felt so real in the moment, but now, standing in the cold empty room, it felt like a dream I couldn't grasp.

Without another word, Nikita pulled open the door and walked out, leaving me alone.

The silence in the room was deafening, and for a moment, I just stood there, my breath still uneven, my body still burning from his touch. But the weight of his rejection, of his sudden distance, settled over me like a heavy cloak, suffocating.

I pressed my back against the wall, sliding down to the floor as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. My mind replayed every second of it—the way he'd touched me, the way his lips had felt on mine, the way my body had responded to him with a need I hadn't realized I was capable of feeling.

And then, just like that, it was gone. Pulled away from me like a rug yanked out from under my feet.

I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to feel.

CHAPTER 5

Nikita

The morning after the gala, it was unmistakable that something was up. The city outside my office was deceptively calm, the skyline serene, but inside me, there was a growing storm. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, that danger was closer than I wanted to admit.

I had spent the night trying to forget the way Lily had felt in my arms, trying to convince myself that our little session together meant nothing. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw her, the way she had looked at me, the way her lips had trembled when I pulled away. It shouldn't have mattered, but it did.

I had to focus. There were bigger things at play. And yet, the unease lingered.

The knock on my office door was sharp, cutting through the silence. I didn't turn around, already sensing the urgency in Vadim's approach.

"Come in," I called, bracing myself for the worst.

Vadim entered, and with him came a shift in the atmosphere—something had gone wrong.

"We have a problem," Vadim said, his voice low, but the grim edge in it was unmistakable.

I turned then, narrowing my eyes as I faced him. "What kind of problem?"

Vadim stepped forward, handing me a small folded note. "It came in this morning. From Petrov."

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