The house is quiet, your music the only sound as you glide through the hallways, lost in the rhythm. Your oversized t-shirt brushes against your thighs as you dance, believing you are alone. The music in your headphones drowns out the world, and you move freely, swaying your hips and spinning with the beat. Sunlight filters through the windows, casting a warm glow on the wooden floors as you head back to your bedroom.

As you push open the door, still lost in the music, your breath catches. Lying casually on your bed is Nikolai Draganov, his tall frame sprawled across the sheets. He looks up from his phone, his dark, greyish-black eyes locking onto yours, and suddenly, the music feels distant, your carefree moment vanishing.

You rip off your headphones, heart pounding. "When did you get here?" you ask, your voice shaky with surprise and embarrassment.

"I've been here for hours," he replies smoothly, amusement in his deep voice as he stands, towering over you.

You swallow, trying to keep your composure. "Did you see me—" you begin, but Nikolai interrupts, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

"I saw you dancing in those little pyjamas," he says, his voice low and possessive, sending a shiver down your spine. He steps closer, deliberately, making your pulse quicken.

Your cheeks flush, overwhelmed by the embarrassment of being caught. You look away, avoiding his intense gaze, but he’s relentless.

"I just want to make sure you're only dancing like that for me," he adds, his voice calm but commanding. He’s not asking—he’s telling.

You bite your lip, searching for words, but the intensity of the moment leaves you speechless. You step back, but he follows, consuming you with his presence.

"Only my eyes can see you like this, okay?" he says, his voice a low growl that thrills you. His tone is authoritative, and you nod, feeling the weight of his command.

But Nikolai isn’t satisfied with a nod. He steps closer, his body heat radiating, his gaze unyielding. "Use your words, sweetheart," he demands.