I tilted my head, my lips parting slightly. “I see. Your meeting is more important.” I exhaled through my nose. “I’ll just go, then.”
I jumped down from his lap, turning to leave, but before I could take a step, his hand caught mine. He pulled me back, settling me onto his lap, his breath warm against my ear.
“Don’t interrupt, okay?” His voice was low, but the possessiveness in it sent a quiet thrill through me.
His hand moved to his mouse, ready to resume the call.
A small, pleased smile tugged at my lips. He hadn’t pushed me away.
The screen flickered back to life. Gleb gave a brief apology for the interruption, then waved it off, telling the men to continue. They barely acknowledged my presence, their voices resuming as though I weren’t even there.
The meeting dragged on, the men’s deep voices blurring into an incomprehensible hum. Gleb’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk, his other hand resting on my hip as if to keep me still.
At one point, I shifted slightly, my legs tingling from staying in the same position for so long. Gleb’s grip tightened in silent warning.
“Stay still,” he murmured, his breath brushing against my temple.
My stomach fluttered at the closeness, but I obeyed, watching the conversation unfold as if I were merely a shadow in the room.
Gleb would murmur something in Russian, his voice calm but authoritative.
I traced slow patterns on his sleeve to distract myself from the growing stiffness in my muscles.
When it finally ended, he leaned back with a sigh and turned to me.
“Thank you.”
I raised a brow. “For what?”
“For staying quiet.”
I shrugged. “Well, I’m just glad you didn’t push me away.”
A thought struck me. “So... now they know I’m your wife?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It doesn’t really matter. They’re in a different country, and we’re not threats to each other.”
He shifted slightly, stretching his legs.
“Did I hurt your legs?” I asked, suddenly realizing I’d been on his lap for two hours.
He smirked, “You think you weigh that much?”
I huffed, crossing my arms. “It’s a valid question.”
He stood and stretched again, but this time, there was a faint stiffness in his movements. “I’ll live.”
With his fingers still loosely wrapped around mine, he led me out of his office.
When we reached the bedroom, he turned away without a word and disappeared into the bathroom.
He returned minutes later, towel in hand, moving with slow, deliberate precision as he cleaned up. I watched in silence, every motion calculated, distant.
When he finally slipped into bed, he pulled the duvet over himself, but before he could settle, I reached over and yanked it off him.
Then, in one smooth motion, I climbed on top of him, straddling his thigh.
A low, surprised groan escaped his lips.
