Healing chains (rewriting)

Maniuplating: part 7 (comfortable)

After the house tour, Yaroslav led Thea to the dining table, where Dimitri, Ivan, and Nikolai were already seated. The atmosphere was light, filled with casual conversation, but Yaroslav's eyes never strayed far from Thea. Every gesture, every word, drew him deeper into the web he'd spun around her.

Once dinner was finished, Yaroslav stood and beckoned her to follow. "Let me show you your room."

Thea gasped when she saw it. It was more than she had imagined—a space so tailored to her tastes that it left her speechless. The soft pastels, the elegant décor, the warmth—it felt like home, a home she had never known she needed.

"This is... beautiful," Thea said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Yaroslav watched her, satisfaction simmering beneath his calm exterior. He knew she would like it, he made some changes in the room all to her likings, when he finally saw her after 5 years he knew he wouldn't let her go now, she was his to claim and hence the master bedroom was now hers.

Thea turned to him, her gratitude evident in her eyes. "Thank you... for everything."

Yaroslav's smile curved with a hint of flirtation. "It was no problem at all, Thea." as he winked

Her cheeks flushed crimson at his words, the intensity of his gaze making her heart race. To hide her embarrassment, she quickly said, "Good night," and turned to leave.

Yaroslav chuckled softly, his voice low. "Good night, butterfly." As she passed, he ruffled her hair, causing her to pout and glare at him, her lips pressed together in frustration.

He mentally cooed at the sight of her, knowing if he stayed a moment longer, he might lose the fragile control he held over himself. The temptation to grab her, to press her against him, to claim her, was unbearable.

As he returned to his own room, conveniently located next to hers, he sat down on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, his expression darkening. A sinister smile tugged at his lips as he loosened his tie. Standing up, he strolled to his walk-in closet, his mind consumed with one thought: She will fall in love with me. He had waited for her for too long, and now he would make her say those three words he had craved from the moment he saw her.

As he reached for his grey sweatpants, his gaze flickered toward the grand mirror at the end of the closet. For a moment, his breath hitched. In the reflection, he saw two figures—himself and Thea. His arms wrapped possessively around her waist while her hands rested on his chest. They gazed at each other lovingly, her soft voice echoing in the silence, "I love you."

Yaroslav turned swiftly, expecting to see her standing behind him, but the room was empty. He blinked, and then, suddenly, a cruel, bone-chilling laugh escaped his throat. The room's atmosphere shifted, darkening as the cruel smile spread across his face.

"Oh, she will love me," he whispered, his voice dangerous and low. "Or so help me."

A cold, mocking voice slithered into his mind. She will not.

The world flashed red before his eyes, his pulse quickening with sudden rage. His fist shot forward, smashing into the mirror, shattering it into a thousand shards. Blood dripped from his knuckles as he stood there, panting, glaring at his distorted reflection.

"She will love me," he growled, his voice a menacing snarl. "My butterfly will love me."

YARSOLAVS ZOLNEROWICH

I woke up early, earlier than usual. Today felt different—special—because I wanted to make breakfast for her. The thought of Thea smiling as she ate what I made made my heart pound with excitement. After a quick shower, I threw on a fresh shirt and rushed downstairs.