Chapter 84 A date Night
Maureen Laskovic:
I let the phone slip from my fingers onto the nightstand with a soft clack and released a long, shaky breath. I actually pulled it off. Nyxara said yes. Movie night. Just the two of us. My pulse was still thrumming too fast, half triumph, half nerves.
I padded barefoot across the cool hardwood to the walk-in closet and flicked on the light. The sudden brightness made me blink. Rows of silk, satin, sequins, and couture stared back at me like expectant courtiers. Too much. Far too much. My eyes skimmed past the evening gowns and cocktail dresses until they landed on the denim section—safe, familiar territory.
I pulled out my favorite high-waisted black jeans, soft from years of wear, and a simple off-shoulder cream sweater that always felt like a hug. Comfort over everything tonight. I wanted to feel like me, not like the polished wife of Vuk Laskovic for once. I tossed the outfit onto the foot of the bed and headed downstairs.
The kitchen smelled of fresh basil and simmering garlic even before I stepped inside. The moment I appeared in the doorway, the maids dipped their heads in that quiet, practiced way. I offered them a small smile.
“Chef Ramon,” I called softly. He turned from the stove, wiping his hands on a towel.
“Ma’am?”
“Dinner for tonight—something light but comforting. Maybe the lemon-herb roasted chicken with those buttery mashed potatoes Vuk likes. And… could you also prepare a small platter of antipasti? I might get hungry later.”
“Of course, Mrs. Laskovic.”
I lingered a moment, watching the quiet efficiency of the staff, then stepped toward the island to grab a glass of water. That’s when Livia appeared in the side doorway, posture straight as ever.
“Ma’am,” she said in her calm, measured tone. “Miss Celeste arrived twenty minutes ago. I’ve settled her in the maids’ quarters as you instructed.”
My fingers tightened around the glass. “Good. Keep an eye on her, Livia. She’s not to wander the main house unsupervised. Not tonight. Not ever, really.”
Livia gave the slightest nod. “Understood. I’ll station someone discreetly.”
“Thank you.” I exhaled again, softer this time. Celeste was a problem I hadn’t asked for, but I wasn’t about to let her become my problem tonight.
I stayed long enough to help Ramon plate a test batch of the rosemary focaccia we’d been experimenting with. The warm, yeasty scent curled around me like a balm. On impulse, I decided we needed more sweetness tonight. I pulled out the ingredients for my favorite chocolate chunk cookies and a quick batch of tangy marinara.
By the time the cookies were cooling on the rack and the sauce was burbling gently, the antique clock on the wall read just past seven. Vuk would be home any minute.
I wiped my hands on a dish towel, told the staff to take over, and stepped out of the kitchen.
And there he was.
Vuk strode through the foyer archway, suit jacket already slung over one shoulder, tie loosened, dark hair slightly mussed from the wind outside. The second his eyes found mine, the hard lines of his day melted into something softer, warmer. My heart did that stupid little flip it always did.
He closed the distance in long strides, cupped my face with both hands, and kissed me—slow, deliberate, tasting faintly of mint and the city air.
“Hey, babygirl,” he murmured against my lips.
“Hey, baby boy,” I whispered back, smiling so wide it hurt.
“How was work?”
“Good.” He brushed his thumb along my cheekbone. “Tiring, but good. Missed you.”
“Welcome home.” I reached up and gently tugged the jacket from his shoulder, then slid my hands under his lapels to help him shrug out of the suit coat completely. “Come on. Let’s get you upstairs.”
We climbed the staircase together, my fingers laced through his. The moment we crossed the threshold into our bedroom, his gaze landed on the jeans and sweater laid out on the duvet.
He stopped. “You going somewhere?”
“Yeah.” I kept my tone light. “Movie night with Nyxara.”
His jaw tightened instantly. “I don’t like her.”
I rolled my eyes, but there was affection in it. “Relax, Vuk. She probably hates you just as much.”
“What?” He actually looked startled.
I laughed and stepped closer, smoothing the front of his shirt. “What do you think? About the outfit.”
His eyes dragged down my body and back up, slow and appreciative. “It’s hot. Too hot for just a movie.”
“Oh, please.” I swatted his chest playfully. “We’re not actually going to watch anything. We’re going to make babies since someone refuses to give me one.”
“Heyyy…” He caught my wrist, voice dropping into that low, dangerous register he used when he was half-teasing, half-serious. “You’re hurting my feelings, love.”
I grinned. “Am I?”
“Come here.” He tugged me against him, arms banding tight around my waist. I melted into the hug, breathing in cedarwood, expensive wool, and him. “I missed you today.”
I tipped my head back to look up at him. “You’re so sweet. And so cute.”
“I am?” One dark brow arched.
“Of course you are.” I reached up and tapped the end of his nose. “My sweet, cute, terrifying alpha devil.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “And you’re my little moon, my star, my princess.” His voice softened on the last word, the way it always did when he said it like a vow.
“I know,” I whispered.
He kissed my forehead, then my temple, lingering there. “Go have fun tonight. But text me when you get there. And when you’re leaving.”
“Yes, sir,” I teased.
He growled low in his throat, playful. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Moon.”
I laughed and slipped out of his arms, already reaching for the hem of my current top. “I need to shower and change. See you later, baby boy.”
He watched me with that dark, possessive stare as I headed toward the bathroom.
“Maureen.”
I paused in the doorway, glancing back.
“Love you,” he said simply.
My chest squeezed so tight I almost couldn’t breathe. “Love you more,” I whispered back, the words feeling small compared to everything swelling inside me.
I slipped into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me. The steam from the shower quickly filled the space, fogging the mirrors and wrapping me in warmth. I stood under the rainfall head for longer than necessary, letting the hot water pound against my shoulders, washing away the lingering tension from the day.
When I finally stepped out, towel wrapped around me, the bedroom air felt cooler, scented faintly with his cologne and the cedar from the diffuser on the dresser. Vuk was already there, leaning against the bedpost in just his black boxer briefs, arms crossed, watching me with that lazy, predatory smile that always made my stomach flip.
“Need help?” he asked, voice low and teasing.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my grin. “I can dress myself, you know.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
He pushed off the post and closed the distance in two strides. His fingers brushed my shoulders as he gently tugged the towel away, letting it pool at my feet. Goosebumps raced across my skin—not from the chill, but from the way his gaze darkened, appreciative and hungry all at once.
He picked up the cream sweater first, bunching it in his hands so I could slip my arms through. As he pulled it over my head, his knuckles deliberately grazed the sides of my breasts. I sucked in a breath, heat blooming low in my belly.
“Vuk…” It came out half-warning, half-plea.
“What?” Innocent as anything, even as his hands smoothed down my ribs, lingering at my waist. “Just helping.”
Next came the jeans. He knelt in front of me—actually knelt—like this was some sacred ritual. I braced my hands on his broad shoulders for balance as he guided one foot, then the other, into the legs. Slowly, torturously, he tugged them up, fingers trailing the insides of my thighs, thumbs brushing higher than necessary. When he reached my hips, he zipped the fly with deliberate care, the sound loud in the quiet room.
I bit my lip to stifle a moan, but it slipped out anyway—soft, needy. My cheeks burned.
He stood, towering over me again, and smirked. “There. Perfect.”
“You’re impossible,” I muttered, voice breathy.
“And you love it.” He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “Blushing like that… makes me want to keep you home.”
“Don’t you dare.” I shoved at his chest lightly, laughing despite the flush spreading down my neck.
He caught my phone from the nightstand before I could reach it, thumbed it open (he knew the code, of course), and enabled location sharing. “For safety,” he said, tone shifting to something firmer, protective. “Have fun tonight, Moon. But come home to me.”
He pressed a soft kiss to one cheek, then the other, lingering just long enough to make my heart stutter.
Then he turned to the dresser drawer—the one that held all the little things he liked to surprise me with—and pulled out his sleek black card. Without a word, he slid it into the front pocket of my jeans, patting it once like he was sealing a promise.
“What’s that for?” I asked, even though I already knew.
“My card.”
“Uhm… for?” I arched a brow. “We’re just going for a movie night.”
“You might want to get something.” He shrugged, casual as if he were talking about grabbing coffee. “Popcorn. Drinks. Whatever.”
“Oh yeah,” I deadpanned, “like buying popcorn with a black billion-dollar card? Classy.”
He chuckled, deep and warm. “Oh come on… it’s yours after all. Spend it. I don’t care if you get bored of the movie and decide to buy ten cars while you’re at it.”
“You sure?” I challenged, stepping closer until our bodies brushed. “Because I’m going to do it. I’m going to max this thing out just to mess with you.”
He grinned, eyes glittering with amusement and something darker, more possessive. “I’m waiting on that receipt. Now go have fun.”
Before I could retort, his hand cracked lightly against my ass—playful, sharp enough to make me yelp and then dissolve into laughter.
I swatted his arm, grabbed my crossbody bag from the chair, and darted toward the door, still giggling. “You’re the worst!”
“Love you too, babygirl,” he called after me, voice full of that smug satisfaction he got whenever he won a round.
I paused in the doorway just long enough to blow him a kiss, heart racing with the kind of giddy excitement I hadn’t felt in ages.