Anya and Dimitri boarded the plane, making their way to their business class seats. As they settled in, Dimitri's gaze lingered on Anya, a mixture of playful intent and something deeper, something almost vulnerable, flickering in his blue eyes. Anya felt a shiver run down her spine. "He's thinking something," she mused internally, a wave of apprehension washing over her. "Something inappropriate."
She decided to confront him directly. "Dimitri," she said, her voice firm, "what's with the look? What are you thinking?"
Dimitri, seemingly unfazed, grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Just admiring the view," he said, his gaze lingering on her, then quickly sweeping across the luxurious space of their surroundings. "This is a cool space, isn't it? Want to see my six-pack? I mean, we have plenty of time to…"
Anya's patience snapped. She let out a sharp laugh, then slapped him lightly on the arm. "Seriously, Dimitri? You're still acting like a child. I explicitly stated my boundaries. I'm not your personal plaything," she said, a hint of genuine exasperation lacing her voice. "Is this what all young people are like these days?" she thought, shaking her head in disbelief. "Seriously?"
Dimitri, despite her scolding, couldn't suppress a smirk. He knew he'd pushed a boundary, but he'd also managed to break through her more serious demeanor, and he was already beginning to plot his next playful advance.
Dimitri scoffed internally. "She likes it," he thought, a surge of confidence washing over him. "Even if she pretends not to, I know she does. And I'm not going to hold back." Aloud, he said, attempting to shift the mood, "I'm just joking, of course. If you don't want to see my six-pack now, that's fine. You can admire it later. In the meantime… how about a song? I'm a fantastic singer, you know." A playful smirk tugged at his lips, his amusement evident in the slight crinkling around his eyes.
Anya raised an eyebrow, her skepticism evident. "Singing?" she thought, a mixture of amusement and doubt clouding her mind. "Can he even carry a tune? I seriously doubt it." Aloud, she said, "Oh, please. You and singing? I'd rather watch paint dry."
Dimitri shrugged, a playful smirk on his lips. "Fine," he said. "If you don't want to see my six-pack, then you'll have to settle for my singing. But I'm performing this one for myself." He then began to sing, his voice surprisingly strong and melodious, filling the space with a rich, resonant tone. Anya felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. "He's actually… good," she thought, a flicker of genuine surprise mixed with amusement. "Good enough to make me blush. And why is that? He's clearly playing with me."
Dimitri, mid-song, glanced at Anya, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Another way to hide my feelings," he mused internally. "But this is… kind of romantic, isn't it? This is actually very romantic, and I'm not going to apologize for it." He pushed those inappropriate thoughts aside and continued singing, his voice a rich baritone.
As Dimitri sang, a warmth spread through Anya. The song—a simple, heartfelt melody—was unexpectedly beautiful, and it stirred something within her, a surprising surge of affection and a wave of happiness she hadn't anticipated. "Why do I care?" she thought, a hint of self-awareness in her internal monologue. "Why am I letting him get away with it." Yet, as the song progressed and Dimitri's voice filled the space between them, Anya's apprehension melted away, replaced by a captivating appreciation of the moment, the song, and the singer. She found herself completely captivated by the performance, and by the singer himself.
The plane finally touched down at Liverpool's John Lennon Airport, ending a long and emotionally charged flight. Dimitri stretched, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Well, here we are," he said, his voice buoyant. "My people are here to pick me up. They'll take me to the house – all part of the contract." He paused, his gaze shifting to Anya. "Then we'll go sign the paperwork." He seemed more relaxed than he had during the flight.
Anya nodded, feeling weary. "Sounds good," she replied. "I'm tired. I just want to rest."
As they exited the terminal, a sleek, red LaFerrari Aperta stood gleaming under the overcast sky, a stark contrast to the muted tones of the airport's surroundings. Anya's eyes widened. "A LaFerrari?" she asked, incredulous.
Dimitri grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Isn't she a beauty?" he said, gesturing towards the car. "Want a ride? It's… roomy. Plenty of space for two…" He trailed off, his playful grin widening, his eyes suggestive. "I'm not even trying to hide it anymore," he mused internally, enjoying the effect his words had on her.
Anya's internal monologue raced. "What the hell is he implying? He is so obvious, so transparent with his intentions. He's making it clear that he wants more than a simple ride in a car. I can't let him get away with it." She took a deep breath, attempting to quell the mixture of irritation and a strange, unsettling attraction that his brazenness evoked. "I need to keep my head clear. He's immature, but also...charming." She forced a smile. "Let's go," she said, striving for a casual tone, but her heart beat erratically against her ribs.
The LaFerrari pulled up to a sprawling mansion, its exterior a harmonious blend of modern architecture and lush greenery. The house was enormous, an imposing structure that somehow felt both grand and inviting. As they entered, Anya's initial awe gave way to a practical concern. "So," she asked, her voice betraying a hint of weariness, "where's my room?"
Dimitri grinned, his playful demeanor returning. "There's only one room, Anya," he said, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something else—a barely concealed expectation. "We'll have to share."
Anya's eyes narrowed. "Don't joke," she said, her voice sharp. "Where is my room?"
Dimitri's playful expression vanished, replaced by a hint of annoyance. "Why are you asking me about your room?" he retorted, his tone childishly defensive. "You choose. I'm not picking your room for you."
Anya sighed inwardly. "He's being childish on purpose," she thought, her frustration simmering. "He's trying to push my buttons." She decided to play along, at least for now. "Fine," she said, masking her irritation. "I'll find a room myself."
She found a spacious guest room, thankfully well-appointed, and fell into a deep sleep, exhausted from the journey. Dimitri, meanwhile, went to a separate room.