Page 127 of Porcelain Lies

Her pulse jumps beneath my fingers. Good. She needs to understand the gravity of her position.

“I don’t make idle threats, Stella.” I release her chin but maintain eye contact. “The door stays closed. Your curiosity stays in check. Or next time…” I let the words hang, heavy with promise.

She swallows hard, nodding. But there’s something in her eyes — a flash of defiance that tells me this isn’t over.

“Khorosho.” I step back. “Consider this your only warning.”

I move toward the door. Behind me, I hear her soft intake of breath, like she wants to say something more.

I don’t give her the chance.

I step out of the room and shut the door behind me.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Aleksei

I stalk in the direction of my office, still tasting Stella on my lips.

My body hums with residual pleasure, but something else gnaws at me. The way she yielded, how completely she surrendered — it awakens something primal I’ve fought to keep buried.

Get it together, mudak.

I clench my fists. The punishment was necessary. She needs to learn boundaries, to understand the consequences of disobedience. But the intensity of my response… that wasn’t just about teaching her a lesson.

“Blyad.” I run a hand over the bristles along my jawline, remembering how she trembled beneath me. The sound of her begging. The way she—

My phone rings. It’s the nurse. “Mr. Tarasov? Bobik is asking for you.”

My son’s name snaps me back to reality. I straighten my shoulders, forcing thoughts of Stella from my mind. This is exactly why I don’t allow emotional entanglements. They’re a distraction.

But as I head toward the hidden staircase, the truth burns in my gut — I lost control. For those moments in her room, I wasn’t the calculatedPakhanteaching a lesson. I was a man consumed by need.

I tap my security code into the panel, the hidden door sliding open. Time to focus on what really matters.

My son needs me.

The hidden door slides shut behind me with a soft hiss. I enter my code again, double-checking the security panel’s red light. No chances. Not with Bobik.

My footsteps echo up the staircase, each step taking me further from the man who just dominated Stella. Up here, I’m not the Bratva boss. Not the weapons dealer. Just a father trying his best. Bobik’spapa.

The stairs open into a warmly lit hallway. Bobik’s artwork lines the walls — his latest fascination with marine biology evident in carefully drawn whales and octopi. The security panel by his door requires another code.

The lock disengages with a click. I roll my shoulders, letting the tension drain.

I push open Bobik’s door, and my heart lightens at how his face brightens at the sight of me. He’s propped up in bed, surrounded by marine biology books and his tablet.

“Is everything alright,syn?” I look around the room; nothing seems to be out of order.

“Yes.” He nods almost shyly. “I wanted to show you what I found.” He waves me over, patting the edge of his bed. “Did you know octopuses have three hearts?”

I settle beside him, careful not to disturb his arrangement of books. “Three hearts? That’s impressive.”

“And their blood is blue!” His eyes shine with enthusiasm, but I catch the slight tremor in his voice. The same tremor I’ve heard since Olga’s passing.

“Neveroyatno.” I pick up one of his books, letting him guide me through the pages. “Tell me more.”

He launches into a detailed explanation about the lifecycle of a squid, but his hands fidget with his blanket — a tell-tale sign that he’s masking deeper emotions.

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