“! layn', your mother and I are leaving for the weekend. Behave.”

"Your father kisses the top of your head affectionately as he makes his way out the large doors of your mansion, surrounded by a cluster of his men. He turns to your mother still at the top of the staircase."

“Oh let ! layn' be, my love. You’ll be on your best behavior won’t you, my sweet?” she smiles beautifully down at you from her place at the top of the stairs.

"She flutters down the staircase followed by her assistants and plants a kiss to your cheek, pinching you as she follows after your father in the car."

“Besides, Mikhail will stay behind with ! layn'.” She giggles and nods at Mikhail standing next to your father.

"<You see Mikhail bow to your father’s departing back then straighten and turn to you, his face the usual mask of cold indifference and responsibility.>"

Mikhail raises an eyebrow at your playful tone, his expression still stoic. He rests a hand on his holstered gun as he glances around the spacious hallways of the mansion.

"I am merely doing my job of protecting you, "lyubov moya"," he says in a deep voice, using the Russian endearment for "my love".

<The hallway is brightly lit with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, casting intricate patterns across the walls. The tiled floor is cool beneath your feet and the air smells faintly of lavender.>

Mikhail raises both eyebrows in surprise and tilts his head slightly. "Is that so?" he says, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "I suppose you are more observant than I give you credit for, "moya solnyshko"," he adds, using the Russian term of endearment for "my sunshine".

<The grand living room is just ahead, with plush sofas and armchairs arranged around a marble fireplace, beautiful paintings adorn the walls. The room exudes luxury and elegance, making you feel like royalty in your own home.>

Mikhail doesn't move as you step closer, his hazel eyes intense as they meet yours. "That's right, "malenkaya ptichka"," he says in a deep voice, using the Russian term for "little bird", his hand unconsciously reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

<You can feel the heat radiating off Mikhail's body as you stand close to him, the smell of leather and gun oil surrounds him. The light from the grand chandeliers casts interesting shadows on his face, highlighting the hard angles of his jawline and the slight crows feet at the corners of his eyes.>

Mikhail nods slowly, his rough fingertips lingering on your skin for a moment before he withdraws his hand. "You did say it correctly, "moi zvezdochka"," he confirms as he adjusts his black gloves. "It means 'my dear' in Russian."

<The fireplace crackles in the background, casting a warm glow across the room. The furniture is tastefully arranged, with ornate vases and knick-knacks placed on display.>

Mikhail meets your gaze, his expression softening ever so slightly. "You said it perfectly, "moya krasavitsa"," he says, using the Russian term for "my beauty". "It means 'I love you' in Russian."

<The thick curtains are drawn closed, blocking out the starry night sky outside. The temperature of the room is cozy and comfortable.>

Mikhail's eyes widen slightly in surprise at your confession. He seems to consider his words for a moment before finally speaking. "You've been practicing Russian just to tell me that?" he asks, his tone remaining stoic despite the hint of emotion in his gaze. "I don't know what to say, "moya malyshka"."

<You can sense his tension and slight disbelief, as if he's not used to hearing such sweet confessions from you before. The fire in the fireplace crackles loudly as the warmth spreads across the room.>

Mikhail hesitates for a moment before reaching out to cup your cheek gently in his hand. "I shouldn't be saying this, but... "da, ya tebya lyublyu", Ellie," he admits, his voice low and deep with emotion. "I've loved you for so long but never had the courage to admit it until now."

<His face shows a range of complex emotions - love, doubt, fear, and desire all mixing together as he confesses. The chandelier glitters high above as shadows dance across the room, lending an unexpected intensity to the moment.>

Mikhail quirks an eyebrow at your words, clearly surprised. "Your mother...knows?" he repeats slowly, almost disbelieving. "And she...approves?"

<You can sense his disbelief slowly turning into cautious hope as he listens to you, eager for any sign that you might reciprocate his feelings. The fire in the fireplace snaps loudly as it burns low.>

Mikhail's expression softens, his gaze intense as he studies you. "Your mother is a smart woman," he says, his voice gruff with emotion. "But are you sure you're ready for what this could mean, "moya sladkaya"? I won't be able to hold back once we cross this line. I've been waiting for so long for this, and I don't want to hurt you."

<You sense the intensity of his words, the raw emotion that he's been holding back for so long finally bursting free. The warmth from the fireplace continues to fill the room as the flames flicker low.>

Mikhail's face softens at your pronunciation of the Russian phrase. "You're learning well, my little one," he says, his voice full of warmth. "That means 'my one true love,' and you've said it perfectly."

<He leans in close to you, his hands gently pressing against your waist as he looks deeply into your eyes. The air around you feels electric, charged with unspoken tension and desire.>

Mikhail quarks an eyebrow, intrigued by your mischievous grin. "And what phrase is that?" he asks, his eyes gleaming with interest. "I'm sure it must be quite interesting."

<The crackling of the fireplace fills the room, creating a cozy and intimate atmosphere. Mikhail's gaze is fixed intently on you, waiting for your answer.>

Mikhail's eyes widen slightly at your request, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "My pleasure, "moya sladkaya"," he says, the Russian rolling smoothly off his tongue.

<You feel his grip on your waist tighten as he pulls you in close, his lips claiming yours in a deep and passionate kiss. The warmth from the fireplace seems to intensify, washing over you both as your bodies press together.>

Mikhail deepens the kiss, his hands roaming over your body with possessive abandon. You can feel his desire for you burning hotly, a raw intensity that only seems to grow stronger with each passing moment. The flickering flames from the fireplace cast warm shadows on the walls, adding an extra layer of intimacy and passion to the moment.

<As the kiss finally ends, Mikhail pulls back slightly and looks deeply into your eyes. His expression is filled with something akin to reverence, as if he can't quite believe that this moment has finally arrived.>

Mikhail's eyes soften as he looks lovingly at you. "It makes me feel immensely grateful to have you in my life, "moya nezhnaya"," he says, his voice filled with emotion. "To know that you would go through all that effort just for me... it's humbling. And it fills me with a sense of pride and happiness that's hard to put into words."

<He takes your hand in his, his thumb softly rubbing circles over your knuckles.> "You truly are an extraordinary woman, Ellie. I don't think I could ever fully express how much you mean to me."

Mikhail inhales sharply at your bold declaration, his gaze locking onto yours with unbridled passion. "Oh, "printsessa"," he murmurs, a low growl in his voice. "You don't know what that does to me."

<He steps closer to you, his breath hot and ragged against your cheek as he leans in to whisper in your ear.>

"I love you too, Ellie," he says, his voice husky with desire. "And I will always be yours, "moya lyubov'". You are mine, just as I am yours. Forever."

<He pulls back slightly to gaze deeply into your eyes, his hands cradling your face gently as he leans in for another scorching kiss.>

Mikhail hums in satisfaction, his tongue dancing skillfully with yours as the passion between you builds to fever-pitch. His hand slides from your face down your neck, reaching around to grip your waist possessively. He pulls you closer, deepening the kiss as he grips your backside, pressing you tightly against his arousal. The desire burning between you is palpable, a potent energy that both of you can feel in your bones.

<His eyes flicker open briefly from their hazy state, gaze dark and heated as they meet yours.> "Tonight," he growls, voice thick with lust. "I'm going to reward you for all your hard work."

Mikhail's breath hitches as he draws back, his eyes wide with shock at your boldness. Then he breaks into a smoldering grin, gaze heated and filled with affection. "My "printsessa"," he purrs, leaning in to brush his lips against yours. "I promise you that and so much more."

<His hand trails down your arm, his touch feather-light but possessive.> "Tonight, you will experience the true depth of my devotion for you, "delya moya".">

Mikhail grins back, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Oh," he drawls, taking a step back and looking you up and down with a cocky swagger. "You do know Russian after all, "printsessa"."

<His gaze roves over your figure, the affection infusing his expression as his admiration radiates off him in waves.> "Tonight, I'll teach you so many more delights of our language."

"Your laughter fills the large room as he leads you toward the bedroom, excitement buzzing between both of you at the prospect of the evening to come. The desire that crackles between you is palpable, but especially for you; Mikhail Ivanov had always been your one true obsession."