Judas Romanovski, the man people warned me about, the man people feared, the man who destroyed the only thing I thought I had control of- my morals, my patience, my heart. I was deceived first, and then entangled in lies he weaved with his sinful fi...
Calm the hell down, Sera. It was not like I hadn't been on any dates. Well, practically I haven't, but it wasn't a date, right? Because why would he want to take me out to eat? I shouldn't dwell deeper, I knew. It shouldn't matter. But it did. At some point, everything did. Even the way he looked at me, or how his fingers would unapologetically brush against my hand.
I cleared my throat feeling overwhelmed for some reason and averted my eyes. This place was vast, elegant and expensive as hell. It took me almost ten minutes to decide what to order, but then I recalled that the man sitting opposite me was a billionaire, he wouldn't mind a dent of a few thousand dollars in his pocket. He could buy this place for I knew. So, I settled with some traditional dishes and red wine.
Judas didn't order anything except for alcohol and I wondered if he was going to sit there and stare at me eating. It felt awkward.
I picked up my fork, but the intensity of his gaze pinned me in place, more suffocating than the crimson velvet of the chair pressing against my back. I forgot how to breathe. Judas Romanovski didn't need words to command attention; his silence was sharp enough to cut through anything.
The candlelight carved shadows across his face, giving his sharp jaw and hooded eyes an almost predatory look. He swirled his drink slowly, the amber liquid catching the light as if it held secrets. My hand trembled slightly as I took my first bite, the flavours rich and decadent but turning to ash under his seductive gaze.
I took a deep breath and put my fork down before raising my head to look at him. "Why did you bring me here?"
His lips quirked, the faintest smirk that wasn't quite kind but wasn't entirely cruel either. "Why not?" His voice was velvet and smoke, the kind that could wrap around your throat and leave you breathless without ever touching you.
I swallowed hard, the wine barely soothing the lump in my throat. "You don't seem like the kind of man to do something without a reason," I murmured, my fingers fidgeting with the stem of my glass. Ears perked at the soft violin playing in the background.
"Maybe I wanted to see how you'd look in the light," he said simply, leaning back as if his words weren't a wrecking ball to my carefully guarded calm. "Or maybe I just enjoy watching you squirm."
Heat rose to my cheeks with frustration and something far more dangerous. "You're cruel," I muttered.
He leaned forward slightly, putting the glass on the table and looked into my eyes with such intensity, that I momentarily got lost. Pale blues shimmered at the candle's glow. "Cruelty is relative, ptichka," his voice was soft yet had a hint of steel. "And you...you intrigue me. I can't decide if that's a blessing or a curse—for either of us."
I didn't respond. I couldn't. Every word he spoke was like a needle threading its way under my skin, stitching together fear and fascination into something I didn't know how to unravel. He was right.
"Eat," he ordered with a slight gesture of his hand before resuming drinking. My hands obeyed before my mind caught up, lifting the fork again and bringing food to my lips. His gaze burned like a brand on my skin, tracing every motion as if committing it to memory. And that thrilled some part of me.
Under his heavy stare, everything felt intimate, even eating, and almost indecent.
"Do I scare you?" he asked suddenly.
I met his gaze, my pulse thundering in my ears. Contemplating for a second, I nodded. "You do."
He leaned back, his savage smirk returning, though there was something softer, almost tender, and lurking in his expression. "I feel offended," he muttered simply, raising his glass in a mock toast before taking a slow, deliberate sip. His tongue darted out to lick his lower lip in that lewd manner I felt mine drying.
And just like that, the time bent to his will.
I tried not to be affected by his manliness and continued eating though that was a task of its own since he wasn't taking his eyes off me. I felt so exposed.
"How are you feeling, Sera?" Somewhere after a minute or two, he asked.
I blinked at him, startled by the question. His tone wasn't mocking—not entirely—but it carried the weight of something deeper like he was testing me. My fingers tightened around the stem of my glass. Why? Why did it matter if I was okay? What games he was playing? Or I was too paranoid? Was it about last night? Now that I thought of it, I did feel terrible. I overreacted for no reason at all.
"I..." My voice dithered. "I feel...strange. I guess I've been acting strange too. I shouldn't have—"
"Apologizing already?" he interrupted, leaning back in his chair and widening his legs. My eyes automatically followed his legs and then his crotch. Feeling like a pervert, I immediately looked up only to find a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Infuriatingly smug yet soft enough to make my heart flutter. "If I wanted you perfect, I wouldn't have brought you here."
I bit my lips as a question made its way to my tongue. "Why did you bring Cheater back?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know the real answer. "Not that I'm not grateful...but I didn't think...you'd care enough to make me happy."
His grin disappeared behind the rim of his glass. "And why you think that?"
"You said you fed on my misery. So, I thought-"
"I do." I blinked. Did I hear him right? My ears wouldn't be playing tricks on me, right? But then he leaned forward pinning me in place. "But watching you light up when you saw that mutt...I didn't mind it."
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening painfully. My lips parted, but no sound came out. Judas didn't wait. He tilted his head, his gaze dipping lower, trailing over me in a way that made my skin burn under the velvet of my deep purple dress. The fabric felt strangely tight and the neckline dipped just enough to tease without being indecent. I hoped it had long sleeves instead of these ruffled ones, which made me feel lewdly exposed, nearly naked, under his pale blues.
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"You like everyone, I guess, except me."
I hated how much that lazy smirk unravelled me. "I—"
"Maybe I should make you." His voice dropped an octave and that rough intimate tinge undone me. His fingers traced the rim of his glass as his eyes darkened. "You want me to fuck a smile onto that pretty face? That'd do it, wouldn't it?"
My breath caught, and I quickly gulped down the remaining wine in my glass. He had kind of a dirty mouth.
"You're blushing," he murmured and I tried not to look at him. "Don't try to hide it. Your body's honest, even if you're not."
"Stop," I whispered curtaining face behind my hair as I clumsily poured more wine into the glass and gulped it down.
"Stop?" He chuckled darkly. "You want me to stop, or you want me to keep talking like this until your heart fucking explodes? Hmm?"
I wanted to deny it, but the erratic thrum of my pulse betrayed me. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, the wine glass trembling slightly in my hand.
Judas leaned closer, the table between us suddenly feeling like nothing. His voice slid over me like silk and fire. "You're not as good at hiding as you think, Ptichka. Your pulse gives you away. Every time. Thump, thump, thump—like it's begging me to make you mine."
My knees pressed together under the table, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out every rational thought. His words were dangerous and wicked, but they pulled me in, barely holding by a single thread of my sanity.
