bNiki’s /bbPOV /b

Damn it.

Heat shot down my spine the moment her eyes locked onto mine. Her expression was ba /bmix of confusion andposure, but her posture was confident as ever as she descended the hospital stairs toward me.

The wind caught strands of her hair, causing them to flutter like dark silk ribbons behind her bA /bslow, inexplicable ache began building in my chest

Her hair. Jesu

Was the some kind of modernb–/bbday /bRapunzel? Why the hell did she keep it bso /blong?

It trailed past her waist, impossibly thick and gently curled. It should’ve been impractical, bmaybe /bbeven /bba /bnuisance. But on her, it looked… ethereal. Like it belonged.

She didn’t look like her mother at all. It was obvious she was adopted. She had features most definitely rooted in a blend of Arabic and Indian heritage. Olive–toned bskin /bthat practically glowed in thest blush of sunset, and those moss–green eyes bthat /bseemed to pierce straight through you.

Velhaven was a diverse city every street was a melting pot of cultures–but even in that chaos, Elena stood out. Not because she was shy, or overtly sexy. But because she didn’t try to fit in. She just existed in a way that demanded attention without asking for it

She bwasn’t /bpetite or delicate. She bwasn’t /bsome leggy socialite with fake bshes /band expensive fillers. She was five–foot eight, grounded in her own skin. Confident. And real.

I liked that

My neck didn’t ache trying to look down at her. I didn’t need to slouch to meet her eyes–nor would I have to slouch to kiss her.

Not that I had thought about doing that.

Okay bthat /bwas a tant lie.

I had thought about bkissing /bher. MANY times. Most often in the presence of her boyfriend–my brother.

“Earth to Niki.”

Her voice cut through the fogb. /bbShe /bbwaved /bher hand in front of my faceb, /ba teasing sanile ying at her lips.

Shit. I’d been staring-

The words tumbled out before I could stop them

“Why are your hair so long?”

She blinked. The smile dropped for ba /bsecond, reced with surprise. Her brow lifted.

I cursed under my breath. What the fuck was bthat/b, Nikit Smooth. Real smooth

“Never mind,” I muttered quickly, running ba /bhand through my hair. That was rude. I’m sorry. Let’s get in first”

I moved quickly, opening the passenger side door for her. She slid in without a word, and I circled around to the driver’s seat, silently berating bmyself/b.

The car ride started off quiet Too quiet. The tension hung between us like a thread pulled too tight

Contrary to what most people thought. I wasn’t that hot, calm, sensible and always put together rich man. Except for thest part, I was rich. Other than bthat/b? That was bjust /bba /bcarefully crafted lic. Because I was a socially awkward person from the inside.

I didn’t try to be like that on purpose. No one did, of course,

Being a social butterfly just never came to me. So I chose the poker faced persona to mask my obviously messy personality

The city lights blinked past the window as I turned onto the main road. My fingers drummed the steering wheel, searching for something: anything to diffuse the awkwardness

She beat me to i

To be honest. I’m not quite sure either

b4:34 /bbPM /b

Her voice was soft, thoughtful I bnced /bsideways at her.

“What?”

“My hair. You asked. I’m bnot /bsure why I keep it long. She paused, fiddling with a loose strand. “My childhood is mostly a blur. But I remember being told that I wasn’t born here. That I came bfrom /bsomewhere far away. The orphanagedies used to btalk /babout it. Later, when Mom and I did a DNA test, we found out I’m mostly South and West Asian. Heavy Indian lineage.”

So my guess was correct

She nced at me briefly before continuing.

“Mom bwas /ba bit heartbroken. That I never bgot /bto experience any of that culture. bSo /bshe did her research. Tried to bring little pieces of it into bour /blives. Like clothing, jewelry and their cultural food. In South Asia, long bhair /bis a traditional bsign /bof beauty, bso /bshe asked if I wanted to grow mine

ONL

bShe /bgave a small, almost nostalgic bugh/b. “And bI /bbsaid /byes

I didn’t interrupt. I watched the way her eyes softened, the quiet reverence in her voice when she spoke of her mother. I didn’t need a long speech to understand why she’d agreed

*So you kept it for her?” bI /basked, my voice low.

She nodded. “Yeah. She was always proud of it. Always told me I looked like a goddess.”

There was a pause. Then she added, almost bitterly, “Even though I wanted to look like her. Not like… strangers who never bgave /ba damn about me Her words stuck with me longer than they should have.

I shifted in my seat. “Well, this is just my opinion, but I think she just wants you to be happy. As for being simr to her. I haven’t met her, so can’t say muchb. /bBut since she’s the one who raised you, I don’t think you need to worry about not being like her.”

She turned to look at bme /bthen, eyes narrowing slightly in consideration. A flicker of surprise. Curiosity. And something else I couldn’t quite name I couldn’t help but smile

She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just You’re really not like your brother, are you?”

Iughed. “Careful. You might end up catching feelings.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “You wish.“”

The words were yful, but I felt themnd a little too heavily.

Did I

No. Absolutely not

Dating had never bworked /bfor me, I wasn’t built for emotional connections. I’d tried–three times too many. They all ended the bsame/b. The spark fizzled. The women got clingy, demanding more. More time, more attention, more things I wasn’t able to give. Even the money I gave to them bwasn’t /benough and they ended up leaving me for other men because I wasn’t ‘emotionally avable enough.

I knew that made me ba /bshitty person. I hated that I had inherited this toxicity from my father I knew that just because I didn’t cheat on them didn’t make me a good person

Heck it was the barest minimum a woman deserved.

So I just stopped,

It was better that way. Cleaner.

topped pretending. Stopped trying

| kept things physical. Controlled. Agreements. Expectationsid out beforehand,

I just wasn’t wired that way.

50, whatever pull she bhad /bon me from the moment we collided–it wasn’t anything like love. It was hunger. Lust, pure and simple.

And Elenab? /bShe bwasn’t /bthe clingy type. I knew that I knew she was the independent kind. And after what my brother had just done to her she wasn’t 2/3

334 PM

chasing hearts or romance either.

She wanted security.

Which was perfect.

I would provide her with everything she wanted and In return I’d get to fuck her.

I had kept those feelings underwraps. Not letting those thoughts infiltrate my mind for the whole time she’d been my brother’s girlfriend granted, I knew that wouldn’tst long. My brother wasn’t built for rtionships either. Not healthy, or longsting ones at least. So I knew this would happen sooner orter.

And I realized only now, looking at her smiling with those bdamn /bdimples and bright mossy colored eyes, that I really wanted to fuck her.

That was it. Once I did it a number of times, it’d be out of my system. Just like every other attraction I’d had before. I knew how this worked. I always got bored, always bmoved /bon No strings, no delusions.

Once we slept together, this weird tension between us would bvanish/b. I’d get her out of my head, and she’d get whatever she needed for the duration of our contract. Mutual bgain/b. Mutual benefit.

That’s what this bwas /b

Nothing more.

色