The first Touch
1749 Words
The next morning, Pinkan woke up to the sound of her phone ringing.
Not her phone. The penthouse phone. A sleek, white device on the nightstand she hadn’t even noticed before.
She stared at it. It rang again. And again.
She picked it up. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Kadeva,” a female voice said, crisp and professional. “This is Sarah, Mr. Kadeva’s assistant. He asked me to remind you about the charity gala tonight. Black tie. A car will pick you up at seven.”
Pinkan’s stomach dropped. “I wasn’t told—”
“Mr. Kadeva said you’d understand. It’s important for business. Please be ready.”
The line went dead.
Pinkan threw the phone down and buried her face in the pillow. One week. She’d only been here one week, and Andre was already dragging her into his world.
She didn’t own a black tie dress. She didn’t own anything that cost more than her monthly rent.
At 6 PM, there was a knock on her door.
Pinkan opened it to find a woman holding a garment bag, with two assistants behind her carrying boxes.
“Mrs. Kadeva?” the woman said. “I’m Elise, from Maison Valerie. Mr. Kadeva sent us.”
She unzipped the garment bag. Inside was a dress. Black silk, backless, with a slit that went up to the thigh. It looked like it cost more than Pinkan’s entire life savings.
“We’ll help you get ready,” Elise said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
An hour later, Pinkan stared at herself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the woman looking back.
Her hair was curled and pinned up. Her makeup was subtle but perfect. The dress fit like it had been made for her. And around her neck was a diamond necklace that sparkled under the light.
She looked expensive. She looked like she belonged.
She hated it.
At exactly seven, the door to her room opened. Andre stepped inside.
He was in a black tuxedo. Perfectly tailored. His hair was slightly damp, like he’d just showered. He looked at her, and for a second, his mask slipped.
His eyes darkened. His jaw clenched.
“You look beautiful,” he said quietly.
Pinkan crossed her arms over her chest, trying to cover the exposed skin of her back. “I feel like a doll.”
Andre walked closer. “You’re not a doll, Pinkan. You’re my wife.”
He reached out and adjusted the necklace around her throat. His fingers brushed against her skin, and she shivered.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“Don’t what?” he murmured, his face inches from hers. “Touch you? Look at you? Pretend you’re not mine tonight?”
She didn’t answer.
Andre took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Let’s go.”
The gala was held at a hotel downtown. Red carpet, photographers, reporters shouting questions. The second Andre stepped out of the car, flashes went off like lightning.
His hand was on her back again. Guiding her. Claiming her.
“Smile,” he said under his breath.
She did.
Inside, the ballroom was massive. Chandeliers, string quartet, people in gowns and suits drinking champagne. Andre moved through the crowd like he owned it. Because he probably did.
People came up to them constantly. Shaking Andre’s hand. Congratulating him. Staring at Pinkan like she was a new acquisition.
“Andre, I didn’t know you were married,” a woman said, eyeing Pinkan up and down. “When did this happen?”
“Recently,” Andre said smoothly. His arm slid around Pinkan’s waist. “We kept it private.”
Pinkan forced a smile.
An hour in, she needed air. She slipped away to the balcony, desperate for space.
The cool night air hit her skin. She leaned against the railing and closed her eyes.
“Running away already?”
She didn’t have to turn to know it was him.
“I needed a minute,” she said.
Andre stepped onto the balcony and closed the door behind him. Now they were alone.
“You did well in there,” he said. “You didn’t embarrass me.”
Pinkan laughed bitterly. “Thanks. High praise.”
Andre moved closer. “Do you hate this?”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. Really looked at him. Without the suit, without the mask, he looked tired.
“Do you?” she asked instead.
Andre didn’t answer right away. He looked out over the city. “I hate that I need this,” he said finally. “I hate that people expect me to have a wife on my arm. I hate that I had to buy one.”
Pinkan’s breath caught. “Then why—”
“Because without you, I look weak,” he said bluntly. “And weak men don’t stay in power long.”
The honesty of it hit her hard.
“And what about me?” she asked. “What do I get out of this, besides money?”
Andre turned to face her. “Safety. Protection. A chance for your mother to live.”
“That’s not enough.”
“What else do you want, Pinkan?”
She didn’t know. She wanted to say freedom. She wanted to say his name without it tasting like a curse. She wanted to say that when he touched her, she didn’t pull away.
But she said none of that.
“I want you to stop pretending this is fake,” she said instead.
Andre’s eyes flickered. “It is fake.”
“Is it?” She stepped closer. “Then why did you look at me like that earlier? Like you wanted to break me?”
Andre’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Not hard, but firm. He pulled her against him.
“Careful,” he growled. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Maybe I do,” she said, her voice shaking. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending too.”
For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her. His gaze dropped to her lips. His grip tightened.
Then the balcony door opened.
“Mr. Kadeva,” Sarah said, sticking her head out. “They’re ready for your speech.”
Andre let go of her wrist immediately. His mask slid back into place.
“Right,” he said smoothly. “Thank you, Sarah.”
He walked past Pinkan without looking at her. “Come on. Don’t keep them waiting.”
Pinkan stood there, her wrist still tingling from his touch, her heart pounding.
Back inside, Andre gave his speech. He was charming, eloquent, commanding. The crowd ate it up.
Pinkan watched from the side, holding a glass of champagne she didn’t drink.
When he finished, applause filled the room. Andre smiled that perfect, dangerous smile.
And then he looked at her.
His eyes met hers across the room. And for just a moment, she saw it again. The hunger. The need. The thing he was trying so hard to hide.
Later, in the car on the way home, neither of them spoke.
When they got to the penthouse, Andre went straight to his room. Pinkan went to hers.
But she didn’t sleep. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about his hand on her wrist. About how close he’d been to kissing her.
About how much she’d wanted him to.
At 3 AM, there was a knock on her door.
Pinkan sat up. “Who is it?”
“Me,” Andre’s voice came through the door. Low. Rough.
She didn’t answer.
The door opened slowly. Andre stood in the doorway, still in his tuxedo pants, but his shirt was unbuttoned at the top. His tie was gone.
“I can’t sleep,” he said.
Pinkan swallowed. “Neither can I.”
Andre stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He didn’t lock it this time.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For earlier. On the balcony.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Pinkan said.
“I do,” Andre said. He walked closer to the bed. “Because I wanted to kiss you, Pinkan. And if I had, I’m not sure I would’ve stopped.”
The air in the room felt thick.
“Then don’t stop,” Pinkan heard herself say.
Andre froze.
She sat up in bed, pulling the blanket around her. The dress was gone, replaced by an oversized t-shirt. She looked small. Vulnerable.
“Pinkan,” Andre said, his voice barely above a whisper. “If I touch you now, there’s no going back.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure?”
Pinkan looked at him. Really looked at him. At the man behind the mask. At the man who’d saved her mother. At the man who looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.
“Yes,” she said.
Andre moved. He crossed the room in two steps and sat on the edge of her bed. His hand came up to her face, cupping her cheek.
His thumb brushed over her bottom lip.
“Last chance to tell me no,” he murmured.
Pinkan reached up and grabbed his wrist. She pulled his hand down to her lips and pressed a kiss to his palm.
Andre’s breath hitched.
He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away.
She didn’t.
Their lips met. Soft at first. Hesitant. Then deeper, hungrier.
Andre’s hand slid into her hair, tilting her head back. His other arm went around her waist, pulling her against him.
Pinkan gasped into his mouth, her whole body trembling under his hands.
This wasn’t part of the contract. This wasn’t in the terms and conditions. This was something else. Something dangerous.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard.
Andre rested his forehead against hers. “Pinkan…”
“Don’t say it,” she whispered. “Don’t ruin this.”
So he didn’t. He kissed her again instead.
Hours later, when the sun started to rise, Andre was still there. Lying beside her, his arm around her waist, his face buried in her hair.
Pinkan stared at the ceiling and thought about the contract. About the one year. About what happened after.
She didn’t have answers.
But for the first time since she’d walked into that club, she wasn’t scared.
She was exactly where she was supposed to be.
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