Cassia's POV

I feel soft silk sheets rustle beneath my skin as I roll around. I don't remember my bed feeling this nice. Stretching my arms above my head, I yawn and open my eyes to look around. It takes me a moment to recognise my surroundings and what happened yesterday. Ilya appearing in front of my apartment and then me taking care of Yuri. The room I'm in is similar to the room Yuri is staying in, all the accent colours of wood, light and sheets the same sophisticated feel, but it's different enough that I can say it's not the same room.

When I remember the feel of Ilya's arms carrying me to bed, I feel a rush of heat taking over my cheeks. I cover my face and I don't know what to do with this warmth unfurling in my chest. The last time someone carried me to bed was when I was a little kid and my dad would carry me to the house when I fell asleep in the car. With my only association with the act being tender care, it shifts my views towards Ilya. I was well expecting to wake up with a craned neck and aching spine from being curled up in a chair all night.

He confuses me more, the more I spend time with him. I'd like to think I'm a good judge of character but Ilya is making me doubt myself. He's two very separate ends of a spectrum. He's part of a russian mafia, but seeks out medical help for people close to him. He kills people but he carries me to bed. He's hard to predict and that insistently curious part of my brain wants to unravel him like a ball of yarn till I get to the center of him.

Getting up from the bed, I pad my way to the connected bathroom to use toilet. Then I wash my hands and my face. Looking up at the mirror I see my hair frazzled and all over the place, I try to calm the soft curls down to a more presentable appearance but they have a mind of their own. So I give up. My eyes seem less tired now that I got a full nights sleep and my skin has a healthy dose of colour. I wish I had brought a change of clothes with me as I look at my cream coloured sweatpants and blue tank top but I didn't think I'd be staying over the night.

I leave the bathroom to seek out Yuri's room and check on him. I find his room a couple doors down the one I slept in and gently knock on the door. The room is empty as I step in. The bed is made and no one is inside. I step inside to gather my supplies and zip up the duffel bag and get my hoodie from the chair. The bathroom door opens and Yuri steps in with wet hair, no shirt and dark jeans. His light blond hair looks darker as wet and his eyes are really similar to Ilya's but even from a distance I can tell the difference.

An effortless smile pulls on his lips turning his face in to a charming young man. "Good morning." He says and he looks better, the wound on his thigh isn't visible but I can see the one on his shoulder and it looks good.

"Good morning Yuri, how are you feeling?" I ask as I put the duffel bag on the end of the bed.

"I feel better now that divine intervention has brought you to me and I've been healed by an angel." He says in a light tone and winks. I give a small smile in return but shake my head at his antics.

"Come on sit down." I say as I signal the end of the bed with my chin. "I'll show you how to tend to your wounds and bandage them. You'll have to take care of them until they fully close so they don't get infected again."

Yuri obediently comes and sits down on the bed, smile still in place as he runs a hand through his wet hair.

"You're looking better." I note as I pull out the antiseptic bottle from my bag and dab a bit on a cotton. Then I smear it on his exposed wound.

"Is that a compliment?" He laughs and it's what I would've imagined his laugh would be, light and bright like how his hair looks. "I feel better." He adds as he nods his head.

"Great, your temperature is down and your vitals are normal. I'd say you're ready to be dismissed." I say as I place a bandage on his chest. His half exposed body is lean and riddled with muscles but it barely tickles my notice, I've been around enough patients, heavy or anorexic, big or small with no clothes or heavily clothed that my expression doesn't change at seeing different parts of a human's anatomy.

"Can you bandage your leg yourself or do you want me to do it?" I ask.

He looks up at me and gives a sheepish smile that I have a feeling is for show and says, "I'd much rather you do it."

"Alright lower your pants so I can get a good look at it."

Yuri stands up and unbuckles his belt and then unzips his pants. Then he lowers his pants to his knees and stands in front of me. I grab a few gauzes and bandages before kneeling down. I wipe away the surface of the wound with antiseptic again. Then I start wrapping around his leg with bandages. "Can you open your legs a bit wider for me?" I say so I can wrap the cloth better.

"What the fuck is going on here?" The sudden growl makes me crane my neck away from my work and look around Yuri's body to see Ilya standing there at the door. He looks very still.

"Oh we were just finishing up." I say as I turn my head back to the work at hand. I hear Ilya getting closer and then I'm lifted off the ground by him grabbing under my armpits and setting me down on the ground to the side on my feet. I'm disoriented for a second while I try to understand what just happened before I turn around and see Ilya throwing a shirt at Yuri's face.

"Put some shirt on." Ilya growls and then grabs the duffel bag and my hoodie in one hand. "And control your fucking boner." I look down at Yuri's boxers and true enough there is an outline visible there that I hadn't noticed before. Yuri doesn't seem bothered by being caught at all as he flashes that confident smile once again.

Ilya grabs me by the arm, in a gentle but confident hold and directs me away from Yuri. "I don't even know who to thank." Yuri calls out behind us as he is pulling up his pants.

"My name is Cassia." I say as Ilya pulls me closer to the door.

Just as we are stepping out the room I hear Yuri say,"I think I prefer angel." With amusement coating his words.

I hear Ilya mutter some harsh Russian words under his breath as we walk down the hall.

He's mad again, the way he walks too straight, his closely controlled movements and the tension visible in the line of his shoulders and his face.

"Call for fucking Grigory, Cassia." He says in a low voice.

"I forgot." I reply in a quiet voice.

His reply is a low displeased sound at the back of his throat that makes tingles rise up at the back of my neck and I want to hear it again. But he's not looking at me as we walk. He's focused ahead as he continues holding onto my arm and carrying my stuff on the other hand.

I have a feeling his anger is about Yuri's bodily reaction. And I have this weird urge to appease Ilya so my mouth opens without consulting me. "It wasn't his fault, I was working very close to the cremaster muscle found in the male thigh and it's very sensitive so a sexual reaction is very understandab-"

"He got hard. Stop making excuses for my cousin."

Oh they were related? That explained the same straight nose and similar shade of blue eyes. "You must really care about your cousin to bring a doctor to him to treat him at home."

"Not at the moment no." He says darkly. His jaw tics and if he bites down any harder I fear that his molars are going to turn to dust.

We reach the foyer and I see Grigory standing there, as fresh and regal looking as ever. "Morning Grigory." I say as Ilya's hand finally falls from my arm.

"Morning Cassia." He says with a little bow to his head. I give him one of my biggest smiles because he used my first name. Grigory gives me a barely there one in return and I think I know why. And I'm proven correct when I turn my head to the left. Ilya is staring daggers again, now his anger turned to the unsuspecting butler. Even though Ilya is tense and he's radiating with the barely restrained energy that looks ready to kill someone, I step a bit closer to him. I don't know if I'm really against self preservation like Ilya has indicated or I just feel this unusual pull towards him but I raise my hand and gingerly place it on his bicep.

His attention immediately snaps to mine but his sudden reaction doesn't make me pull back. Even through the fabric of his dark suit, I can feel the strong muscles of his arm flex under my palm. His icy blue eyes are boring into mine, trying to assess what I'm doing. Like he's not used to the touch, but he doesn't pull back or say something so I take that as a good sign. I give him a genuine smile and say, "Thank you for last night."

I see the tension in his body release as the ice in his eyes melt simultaneously. His gaze is on my smile, but he doesn't return it. It still doesn't discourage me, he hasn't been short of a gentleman and he needs the proper thanks to go along with it. I suspect the people in this particular field of business rarely say, 'Please', and 'thank you' but my mom raised me right and I've learned not to judge or abstain from showing people the proper respect just because of someone's job or status.

Ilya's gaze turns to the hand I'm still gingerly resting on his arm and I realise my words might have been understood a different way. I meant him carrying me to bed but saying that out-loud sounds suggestive too so I don't say anything else. I just let my hand fall from his arm. Before I can pull my hand back, Ilya's hand shoots out and grasps mine. Heat from his bigger hand enveloping mine spreads through my body along with tingles. I wonder if my nerves are firing this much when I touch someone else, is my brain this aware of someone else's body and position this acutely when they are close. His bigger stronger hand pulses once around mine, and I stand there mesmerised by the simple point of contact. Does he feel... different too? As if his hand is a newborn, sensitive to everything and curious to explore?

Because that is exactly how mine is feeling right now. I have to press my other hand to my sweatpants at my side to not reach out and wander across his skin. Feeling him through fabric is one thing but skin to skin? I feel energised, like I can run a marathon and still keep going. I had touched Ilya at the hospital when we first met but that's different he was mostly unconscious, I was wearing latex gloves and he was my patient. Now, when I lift up my gaze to meet him, there is nothing remaining of that displaced professional boundary I had erected between us at the ER.

"You're welcome." His low voice replies and I want to let my eyes flutter closed to savour his voice. He has a deep baritone voice that spears me right at my lower spine, and in the depths of my chest. Like a deep creek in the darkness of the night, silently cascading in itself under the moonlight. I want to gaze, touch, dive into that feeling and bask inside it.

A rustle of clothes finally pulls my attention away from Ilya and I realise Grigory is still standing there. My cheeks aflame as I wonder if my face portrayed any of my thoughts on my face. It's very easy to forget we're not alone when Ilya's attention is solely on me. I'm still averting my gaze as Ilya pulls me through the foyer and out the door.

His hand releases around mine as we get to the black sleek car's door and he opens the door, holding it for me. I murmur a grateful thank you as I slide in the backseat. He closes my door and then walks to get in on the other side. I take that time to look out the window at his house. It looks even more regal under the daylight. The modern touches against victorian architecture brings two different era of wealth together.

The car starts forward as the dirty blonde haired man from yesterday chauffeur's us again. I peek a look over to Ilya to see him busy on his phone, looking intent and all the angles of his face cut straight as he works. I wonder if he realises how many people seek out plastic surgery to even get close to the looks he has. His dark brows and straight hair looks like they were drawn with charcoal and his straight nose accompanied by the soft planes of his snow fallen cheeks feels like a podium for the light blue gem of his eyes. His slightly plump but straight pink lips are perfectly contrasted against his light skin and I can barely see a shadow of stubble across his jaw. I wonder how he looks with a beard?

"Are you hungry Cassia?" Ilya's voice snaps me out of my daydream. But it's not enough to make me turn my head as I keep my eyes on him. He's still occupied by what's on the screen of his phone.

"No thank you, I'm not hungry." I reply. That makes his eyes finally leave his screen and turn those blue eyes on me. I swear they look like two pools of glacier water surrounded by ice. They seem cold but I swear the promise of warmth in those depths.

His gaze rakes over me once, it's not quite like an appraisal and more like an assessment but still I have the sudden urge to fidget under that gaze. He turns his head to the front of the car where he says something russian to the chauffeur and the blond haired man only nods in understanding. I desperately wish I knew how to speak russian because Ilya's voice makes the language all the more alluring.

After that he returns to his phone and I keep looking out the window. A couple minutes later the car stops beside a sidewalk and I look around to make-out where we are. I'm not familiar with this neighbourhood but there are fancy shops and restaurants lining the street. Ilya opens his door and leaves the car as he enters what looks like a french bakery. I peruse baked goods displayed through the glass front and I can almost smell the freshly baked pastries and mouth watering cakes. Ilya exits the bakery with a brown bag in his hand and crosses to his side of the car to get in again. The car fills with the smell of the bakery still clinging on Ilya and whatever is in his hands.

As the car starts and pulls out on the road once again, Ilya stretches out the brown bag to me. I take it from him silently, and open it. There is a croissant cut like a sandwich with eggs and what looks like ham or turkey in it. I'm about to argue and say that I didn't want to eat anything but my stomach chooses this time to loudly grumble out it's opinions so with slightly pink cheeks I say a silent thank you and start eating the croissant, careful not to spill any crumbs on the spotless leather interior of the car. The taste of it is divine and have to consciously stop myself from making pleased humming sounds as I eat.

Before I know it, we are pulling up to my street and I fold the empty brown bag and place it in the pocket of my hoodie. The car stops in front of my apartment and I open my door to get out. Ilya exits too, crossing the back of the car with long strides to reach my side as he picks up my duffel bag and climbs the steps with me. I open the door for the outer door and Ilya holds the metal door open for me as we enter. It's a stark contrast to Ilya's house but I don't let my mind run itself in that direction as we take the elevator to the fourth floor. We're silent as we exit but it's not uncomfortable, there is no tension or weirdness, none of us feeling the need to fill the emptiness with mindless chatter and enjoying the silence.

We finally come to my apartment door and I insert my keys on the lock as they jingle. When I open the door, Ilya leans in and places my duffel bag inside the apartment, right next to the doorway. Then he straightens back. "Thank you." I say, feeling a bit nervous under his intense gaze, I'm not someone easily taken over with nerves so it feels foreign to me. I can calmly face a car crash victim coding on a gurney but can't look up into this man's eyes without feeling my heartbeat flap like a humming bird. Maybe I'm developing an arrhythmia. I should probably do an ECG.

"I should be the one thanking you for your services Dr. Whitaker. I'll make sure to pay you for your time." Ilya says.

My lips roll as I slightly tilt my head. "You don't have to pay me anything. I was helping. That's what friends do. And call me Cassia."

Ilya's eyes are on my lips as he takes a slow step towards me, giving me all the time and space to step away from him but I neither have the desire nor the control over my legs to do so. Our chests are almost touching and I have to tilt my head back to look directly into his gaze. His wood essence cologne wraps around me, taking a heady hold on my senses. I almost sway on my feet and lean into him to brush my neck across his neck to inhale more of his intoxicating smell.

"You will accept the payment, Cassia, like you accepted the breakfast because I have no intention of being just your friend." His words are like a shot to my core, his accent rough when he says my name on a breath, combined with his intentions of wanting to be more than friends and I can't make my brain work enough to reply to him as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, making me shiver.

"I'll see you soon milaya." He says and then leaves me rooted to the floor in front of the open door of my apartment, watching him go.

Sorry took long to update, I start reading a book and then before long i'm five books into the series and I haven't done anything productive and it's been a week.

Ah how the time flies when you are being lazy :)

Hope you liked the chapter!

Love you 💙