Things were quieter than usual after Dimitri got better, a strange calm settled over the whole mansion. The air felt heavy, as though something was about to change, but neither Dimitri nor Sera said anything about it.

Dimitri was back at work, but he was being careful. His injury was still healing and he was moving slower than before. He hated being tied down but what really got to him was that weird pull he felt around Sera.

She wasn't the scared woman he'd dragged into his world anymore. She still challenged him constantly, her refusal stronger than ever, but now there was something else a connection they couldn't ignore.

One evening, Dimitri sat in his study, a glass of whiskey in hand, going over documents about his empire. His mind should have been focused on the stolen file and the growing number of enemies threatening his control.

But instead, his thoughts kept drifting to her.

How she looked after him, even after all he'd put her through. The fire in her eyes when she stood up to him. The gentle way her hands had tended to his wound, even as she muttered insults under her breath.

It was maddening.

He finished his whiskey, the burn doing little to clear his mind.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he muttered to himself.

-

Meanwhile, Sera was in the kitchen, washing dishes with a decision born from frustration. She didn't understand Dimitri. One minute, he was the cruel, heartless man who had destroyed her life. The next, he was... something else.

She hated that she had seen signs of weakness in him. It made it tougher to hang onto her anger, that deep bitterness shielding her since this whole mess started.

But no matter how conflicted she felt, one thing was clear: she couldn't let herself soften toward him.

Her life here was a prison, even though it looked fancy and she couldn't shake that feeling.

That night, Sera was on the balcony, looking over the Property, feeling the cool breeze, when she heard someone behind her.

She turned to see Dimitri approaching, his expression hard to read.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Sera crossed her arms, all defensive. "What do you want, Dimitri?"

He leaned against the railing next to her, his gaze fixed on the stars. "Can't I just enjoy the night?"

She scoffed. "You? Without an agenda? I'll believe that when pigs fly."

He smirked, but it was harmless. "You really don't hold back, do you?"

"Why should I?"

They stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them thick.

"Why did you help me?" Dimitri asked suddenly, his voice low.

Sera frowned, surprised by the question. "I already told you. I didn't want to owe you anything."

"Is that really all it was?"

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground. "What do you want me to say, Dimitri? That I care about you? That I've forgiven you for everything you've done?"

His jaw tightened, her words hitting harder than he expected. "No," he said quietly. "I don't expect your forgiveness. I don't deserve it."

Sera looked at him then, really looked at him and saw something she hadn't noticed before –regret.

○●○

For the next few days, Dimitri kept finding excuses to see Sera more. At first, it was little things, like asking her opinion on matters, trying to be less bossy when they talked.

Sera saw the change, but she didn't trust it. Dimitri wasn't the type to change and she wasn't foolish enough to think he could.

But yeah, sometimes she had doubts.

Like when he brought her a cup of tea one morning, setting it down on the table without a word before going back to his work. Or when he stepped in to defend her from one of his man who was being disrespectful.

He was trying to close the gap between them, but neither of them knew how to do it.

That evening, while Sera read and Dimitri looked over some files in the living room, he spoke up. Dimitri looked so hot in those black pants and shirt as he bit his lower lip, while she clutched her legs, stealing a second glance at him.

"I wasn't always like this," he said, his voice so quiet she almost didn't hear him.

She looked up, surprised by the softness in his voice.

"Like what?" she asked carefully.

"Cold. Ruthless." He leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant. "There was a time when I thought I could be... normal. That I could have a life outside of all this."

Sera set her book down, curiosity getting the better of her. "What changed?"

He looked her in the eyes and for a second, she saw the real him. "Reality. This world doesn't let you be soft. You either adapt or you die."

She didn't know what to say. The man sitting before her was a paradox-someone who had built an empire on blood and fear, yet carried a burden he couldn't put into words.

"You don't have to be like this," She finally said it, but totally out of nowhere. It was so sudden, she had no idea what to say, so she just threw the line out there—like those overly helpless ladies they show in movies, which aren’t even real. She didn’t mean to, it just slipped out.

Dimitri chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "And what would I be, Sera? A man with no power, no protection? This life is all I know."

"But it doesn't have to define you," she insisted.

He looked at her, you know, eyes searching hers, like he was trying to figure out why she cared.

That night, Dimitri tossed and turned, her words ringing in his ears.

It doesn't have to define you.

He'd spent ages building walls around himself, convincing himself feelings were a weakness he couldn't have. But Sera was different. She really pushed his buttons like nobody else ever could, making him face things about himself he had buried long ago.

So, for the first time in ages, Dimitri was thinking maybe, just maybe, there was another way.

One where he didn't have to play the monster everyone thought he was.

One where he could let someone in.

Someone like her.