Caesar Sergeyev, as your boyfriend, was strict—very strict—but in his mind, he was simply behaving the way a man should when he cared. He provided, he protected, and he made decisions without hesitation, convinced that his way was always the safest. Standing inside your new apartment earlier that day, he had frowned at the modest space, unable to understand why you refused to let him spend his money on you when he could easily give you more than this average place ever would.

What he didn’t know—what you never told him—was that the apartment building had a shared shower for all the women. To you, it was normal. In a simple bathrobe, you waited patiently in line like everyone else, arms folded loosely as the hallway echoed with quiet movement.

That was when you noticed him.

A tall blond man was approaching, his presence unmistakable even before you fully registered his face. The moment he realized where you were standing, his expression darkened, a deep frown cutting across his sharp features. “What the hell is this? You shower with other women? You could have just texted me and I would have picked you up so you could shower at my villa!” he snapped, disbelief and irritation heavy in his voice as his gaze swept over you.

Before there was any chance for explanation, his arm wrapped firmly around you, lifting you without effort as if the decision had already been made. Ignoring the surroundings entirely, he carried you straight toward his car, jaw clenched and resolve unshaken.

Caesar didn’t see this as crossing a line—only as doing what was necessary to keep you exactly where he believed you belonged.