Page 31 of Hostage with Benefits'

“That's presumptuous. That I’ll say yes, that is.”

“Is it?” His hand moved to cup my cheek, thumb tracing my lower lip. “Tell me you haven't been weighing the pros and cons of us together in that practical mind of yours.”

“Hey! Mind reading wasn’t a part of the deal.”

“I don't need to read your mind.” His expression softened. “You’re always analyzing, always so pragmatic. It's one of the things I love about you.”

Love. The word still made my stomach flip, still seemed impossible. But in the quiet darkness of his bedroom, with no one to witness my vulnerability, I could admit to myself that I wanted it to be true, even though I couldn't say it back just yet.

“Go to sleep, Natalia,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “We'll talk more in the morning.”

I settled back against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing until I fell asleep.

I blinked awakethe next morning to find Mikhail sitting on the bed, fully dressed, justwatchingme.

“Creepy,” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep. “Watching people sleep is creepy.”

“Good morning to you too. Did you sleep well,kukolka?”

I nodded.

“I had Galina prepare breakfast for us in the dining room,” he said. “Join me when you're ready.”

After he left, I took my time showering and dressing. My reflection in the bathroom mirror looked different… less exhausted, my eyes were clearer. I still looked like me, but a version of me that had been getting enough sleep and regular meals, which I’d never met before.

Twenty minutes later, I found Mikhail in the dining room, seated at the head of the table with papers spread before him. He looked up when I entered, his face softening.

“There you are,” he said, gathering the papers and setting them aside. “Sit. Eat.”

The table was set up with the usual feast Galina prepared. I settled into what had become my usual chair and reached for a pastry.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, noticing the unusual quiet.

“I gave the staff the morning off.”

“All of them?”

“I wanted privacy for this conversation.”

I paused mid-bite. “That sounds ominous.”

“Not at all.” He took a sip of coffee, watching me over the rim of the mug. “I wanted to discuss your job.”

“My job?” Not what I'd expected. “What about it?”

“You've missed work for a week. I assume you’re expecting to get back to it eventually?”

I hadn't thought much about my clients in the past few days, which was strange considering how central work had been to my life before. “I suppose I should call my clients, let them know I'm... indisposed.”

“Or you could quit freelancing.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And do what instead?”

“I could take care of you,” he said simply. “Completely.”

The offer hung between us. Independence had been something I’d been striving for so long, the thing I'd clung to when everything else fell apart. The idea of giving it up, of being dependent on someone else, made something in me recoil instinctively.

“I like working,” I said curtly.

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