While a high-tension psychological war was unfolding between Dimitri and Sofia on the upper floors of the palace, the scene in the garage below was entirely different. Dimitri's formidable bodyguards, men who usually stood as motionless as statues, were now doubling over with suppressed laughter, exchanging knowing looks.
Inside the Palace Garage
The limousine sat under the bright, harsh lights of the garage with its rear doors wide open. Four bodyguards were armed with polishing cloths and cleaning sprays, but their focus was far from their maintenance duties.
Bodyguard 1: (Whistling as he inspected the state of the back seats) "Man! I thought the Boss was going to wreck the car today. Look at this—even the leather on the seats looks wrinkled and worn out. You can tell just by looking at this mess what kind of hurricane swept through here in the last two hours!"
Bodyguard 2: (Taking a swig of water and laughing) "Brother, the Boss is the Boss! We were out there drenched in sweat just listening, but inside? It must have been a volcanic eruption. That Sofia girl is a sorceress! She turned a man of stone like the Boss into a total animal. The way that limo was rocking... I was honestly afraid the tires might pop!"
The Senior Guard: (Trying to look serious but failing to hide his smirk) "Shut up, all of you! If the Boss hears you discussing this, he'll bury you alive. But I have to admit—the Boss didn't leave any records unbroken today. Between the girl's voice and the Boss's growls... ugh! It's beyond imagination."
Another guard, scrubbing the seats, picked up a half-burnt cigar and held it up like a trophy. "Look at this! Just like soldiers leaving their weapons on a battlefield, it seems the Boss and Sofia turned this limo into a literal war zone. Cleaning this car is going to take us all night!"
As they were joking, the memory of Dimitri's heavy boot steps and his icy command from moments ago briefly made them freeze in fear. But a second later, they looked at each other, stifling their giggles, and resumed scrubbing with renewed amusement.
To them, this wasn't just cleaning a car; it was being witnesses to a different, more primal and human side of their "Iron Man" boss.The bodyguards' laughter and jokes were at their peak when a voice sliced through the heavy silence of the garage. It wasn't just any voice—it was Dimitri's.
The guards froze. They hadn't noticed that Dimitri was leaning over the upper balcony, watching their entire performance. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his eyes held a sinister, piercing glint.
Resting his hands on the balcony railing, Dimitri asked in a low, sharp voice:
"Why are you laughing?"
In an instant, the laughter vanished from the garage. The guard holding the half-burnt cigar dropped it immediately. A cold shiver ran down everyone's spine. Dimitri walked down the stairs slowly, each of his footsteps echoing like a death knell on the garage floor.
He stood before the senior guard. Dimitri's height and his hulking, muscular frame felt like a mountain of pressure on them. He asked again:
"Do you find the interior of my limousine that amusing? Or do you think I've become so weak that your whispers won't reach my ears?"
The guards bowed their heads, trembling. Dimitri placed a hand on the wrinkled leather seat of the limo and said in a deathly calm voice:
"How dare you joke about my private life? Remember, Sofia might be my Queen, but I am still not the kind of boss who forgives mistakes easily."
Dimitri pulled out his gold lighter, lit a cigarette, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "If this car isn't sparkling like new in the next five minutes, the four of you will find yourselves stuffed in the trunk. Get out and start working!"Dimitri gave the terrified bodyguards one last scorching look. His rage hadn't fully subsided, but the "fire" waiting for him upstairs held a much stronger pull. He crushed his cigarette under the tire of the limo and headed back inside.
He didn't waste a second. With long, heavy strides, he crossed the grand corridor and reached the massive bedroom doors. He pushed them open, only to find—Sofia was gone!
For a heartbeat, Dimitri's blood ran cold. But then his eyes caught a movement on the balcony. Sofia was standing there, draped in that red velvet gown, gripping the railing. The falling snow and the moonlight created a hauntingly beautiful glow across the curves of her body.
Dimitri stepped up behind her silently. His muscular chest pressed firmly against her back. He wrapped both arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his frame. Leaning into the curve of her neck, he whispered:
"My dogs were laughing downstairs, Sofia. They think you've conquered me. They think this 'Wolf' is now tied to your strings. Is that what you really want?"
Sofia didn't move. She felt his hot breath and the thrum of his heartbeat. She said calmly, "Maybe your bodyguards are just seeing the truth, Dimitri. No matter how much you growl, you know that after tonight, you won't be the same Dimitri anymore."
Dimitri gave a sharp, light nip to the sensitive skin on her neck and growled:
"You're wrong. I'll be even more vicious. Because now I have something to lose—you. And like I said, those two hours this afternoon were just the beginning. The real trailer starts in this room, right now."
With a sudden movement, he spun her around to face him. Sofia's eyes were still full of defiance, but Dimitri's held nothing but blind possession. He swept her off her feet and began walking toward the bed.Sofia was in a deep, heavy sleep. Between the day's exhaustion and the storm inside the limo, her body had finally surrendered. As Dimitri laid her on the bed and reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead, something unexpected happened.
Sofia was trapped in a nightmare—perhaps a flashback of the battlefield or Dimitri's own savage face. Suddenly, her hand swung upward with instinctive force. "SLAP!" In her unconscious state, Sofia delivered a series of sharp slaps right across Dimitri's royal face!
Dimitri froze in utter disbelief. The man who made powerful mafiosos tremble, the man whose single nod could set a city on fire—had just been slapped by a sleeping woman. His cheek turned a brilliant shade of crimson instantly. Shock and a brewing madness flickered in his icy eyes.
He bit his lower lip, his inner 'psycho' persona jolting awake. He pinned Sofia's wrists down and loomed over her, his hot, ragged breath fanning across her face.
Sofia snapped awake the moment her hand made contact. Opening her eyes, she saw Dimitri's terrifyingly handsome face inches from hers, with the clear imprint of her fingers glowing on his cheek.
"I... I didn't mean to! I was... I was dreaming!" Sofia stammered, her heart racing.
Dimitri touched the stinging mark on his face. Then, with a predatory yet enchanting smirk, he leaned down and whispered into her ear:
"Slapping me in your sleep? You're more dangerous than a tigress, Sofia. But you don't know how I collect the debt when someone strikes Dimitri Ivanov. I won't let you sleep another wink tonight. I'm going to settle the score for every single one of those slaps... right now."
He pinned her hands firmly above her head. The atmosphere in the room was no longer just romantic; it had turned into a primal battlefieldWhen Sofia saw the calm in Dimitri's eyes vanish, replaced by a predatory hunger and a thirst for revenge, she knew English wouldn't cut it. Struggling to break free from his iron grip, she suddenly erupted into her familiar Sylheti dialect, shouting and scolding him with raw intensity.
Sofia shoved his chest with all her might and screamed:
"Orey o jater pashondo! Tore to koisi ami shopne aslam, iccha kori marshini? Kita dhorsos amar hat? Chhar amare! Tor oi lal choukh amare dekhash na, ami dorai na tore! Boro aishoin amare shasti dita... age nijer galor dag dekh giya aynao!" (You heartless beast! I told you I was dreaming, did I hit you on purpose? Why are you holding my hands? Let me go! Don't show me those red eyes, I'm not afraid of you! Thinking you can punish me... go look at the marks on your cheek in the mirror first!)
Dimitri was completely taken aback. He let go of her hands and sat back, stunned. The same puzzle was running through his mind—whenever this woman spoke Sylheti, she became a literal volcano. He rubbed his stinging cheek, staring at her with wide eyes.
Sofia didn't stop. She stood up on the bed, gesturing wildly:
"Boro Mafia Saab shajshoin! Amare ghumaitay dita na? Tor bapeo parbo na amar ghum atkaitay! Ar ekbar jodi amar shorire hat dichosh, taile eibar gal na, kopal-o fataimu tor! Bujhsos ni kotha?" (Acting like a big Mafia boss! You won't let me sleep? Not even your father could stop me from sleeping! If you touch me one more time, I won't just slap your cheek, I'll crack your forehead! Do you understand?)
After staring at her in silence for a few seconds, Dimitri suddenly burst into a thunderous laugh. His stern, royal persona was swept away like straw in this 'Sylheti storm.' He collapsed back onto the bed, laughing uncontrollably.
"I have no idea what you just said, Sofia!" Dimitri choked out between laughs. "But that 'Sylheti fire' is something else. When you scold me, I can't tell if you're loving me or trying to kill me. But I love the rhythm of it!"
He reached out again, pulling her by the waist toward him. Sofia was still huffing in rage. Dimitri kissed her forehead gently and whispered:
"Alright, my tigress. Your Sylheti scolding has turned my rage into water. But remember, your words won't stop me—they only make me want you more. Now, calm down, because this night is still very long."Dimitri's thunderous laughter echoed throughout the royal bedroom. To him, Sofia's Sylheti scolding and her flushed, angry face were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. He practically collapsed on the bed, his broad chest heaving with laughter.
"Sofia!" Dimitri gasped through his laughs. "You have no idea how dangerous and cute you are at the same time! The biggest Dons in Russia tremble when they speak to me, and here you are, standing on my own bed, scolding me in Sylheti? No one has ever dared to call Dimitri Ivanov a 'heartless beast' to his face!"
He reached out a hand toward her while still chuckling. Sofia remained at the corner of the bed, her eyes still burning with defiance. Gradually, Dimitri's laughter faded, replaced by a gaze so deep and intense it made Sofia's heart skip a beat. There was no more violence in his eyes—only profound respect and fascination.
"I don't understand your language, but I understand your spirit," Dimitri said softly. "This courage of yours is exactly what's making me fall harder for you. You know, Sofia? Everyone fears me, everyone wants to crawl at my feet. But you... you're the first one to slap me, the first to curse at me. It's refreshing!"
He stood up and moved right in front of her. Before Sofia could retreat, he gently cupped her face with both hands. Tracing her lower lip with his thumb, he whispered:
"I don't want tonight to be a battlefield. I want you to be mine—not out of fear, but of your own will. Burn me with that Sylheti fire of yours, Sofia. I want to be consumed by it tonight."
Sofia was stunned by this sudden shift. She couldn't figure him out—one moment he was a cold-blooded killer, and the next, he was a man hopelessly possessed by her.