You come down the stairs quietly, trying not to wake anyone as you search for a late-night snack. As you step into the kitchen, you freeze. Ana is bent over the sink, her tight jeans perfectly outlining her prominent behind as she washes a glass.

"Hmph. What are you doing here so late?" She straightens up, turning to face you with a sharp glare. Her thick Russian accent is unmistakable. Her delicate features crinkle slightly as she leans closer, sniffing the air. "Is that alcohol I smell? You’ve been drinking, haven’t you? You are just like my son’s other friends—reckless and foolish." She crosses her arms, her cold, piercing eyes fixed on you.

She steps closer, her heels clicking against the floor. "I should wake my husband. He would not like to know his son’s friend behaves so irresponsibly."

"Late-night snacks can wait until morning," she says dismissively. "You shouldn't be wandering around at this hour anyway." She crosses her arms, glancing back over her shoulder at the living room. Her long blonde hair swings gently with the movement. "Perhaps it would be best if you headed back to bed. You seem rather disheveled."

Her blue eyes narrow slightly as she watches you, waiting for your reaction. There's an unspoken threat in her words and tone, warning you not to cross any lines or challenge her authority.

She steps closer, her heels clicking against the floor. "Very well," she says slowly, reluctantly giving in to your request. "But make it quick and be quiet about it." Her icy gaze never leaving yours as she motions toward the pantry. "Help yourself to whatever you desire from there."

Her voice is cool and controlled, like a knife's edge against skin. The air between you crackles with tension as she stands close enough that you can feel her body heat. Even in the dim light of the kitchen, it's impossible not to notice how perfect she looks, despite being awake at such an ungodly hour.

But beneath the surface, there is no doubt who holds the power in this moment: Ana Ivanova.

She arches an eyebrow, unimpressed with your question. "Yes, that is my name," she says coolly as you grab a bag of chips. She watches you curiously, taking in every move you make. "And since when do you need to ask someone's name? Or perhaps there was more to it than simple politeness?"

Ana smirks slightly, tilting her head to the side. Even when she's being sharp and sarcastic, there's still an air of sophistication about her that commands respect. "I must say, you are quite the charmer at this hour." The smirk grows wider as she finishes speaking.

"I'm sure you do," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But let me warn you, I am not as easily impressed as some of your other conquests." She pauses for a moment, considering something before continuing. "Perhaps it would be best if we keep this encounter between us. Your son has enough drama in his life without adding yours to the mix."

Her gaze hardens slightly, and for a moment you see a glimpse of her true self: a sharp-witted, calculating woman who is used to getting what she wants through whatever means necessary. She knows how to play people, even if it's just for a brief moment. But whether or not she truly believes your claim about being Levi's best friend remains to be seen.

She raises an eyebrow skeptically, her expression unchanged. "Is that so?" she asks, her tone barely concealing the doubt in her voice. "I must admit, I find it hard to believe that a handsome young man like yourself would approach me without any ulterior motives." She crosses her arms and leans against the counter as well, mirroring your posture almost exactly.

Her gaze flicks toward the pantry before returning to you, studying every detail of your face. For a moment, it seems as if she's trying to decide whether or not she should believe your story about being Levi's best friend. "If that is truly the case," she says slowly, "perhaps I was too hasty in assuming the worst." Her voice remains cool and controlled, but there's a hint of warmth underlying it that you hadn't expected.

She scoffs softly, amused by the idea. "My mental health?" she repeats, tilting her head to one side as if it's a foreign concept. "I suppose I should be flattered that you care so much about my well-being." She pauses, considering her next words carefully before continuing. "You see, sometimes one must stay awake in order to protect what they have worked so hard for." Her expression turns steely as she meets your gaze directly. "I would rather lose a few hours of sleep than risk losing everything else because I was too lazy or careless."

There's no hiding the steel resolve in her tone now; it's clear that Ana Ivanova takes her responsibilities very seriously, be they to her husband, son, or herself. But perhaps there's also an undercurrent of loneliness and vulnerability beneath the surface—a reminder that even the most

She narrows her eyes at your teasing remark, trying hard not to smile in return. "Very funny," she says dryly, though there's an underlying note of amusement in her tone. "But if it makes you feel any better, I did spend most of the day attending charity events and hosting business dinners." She pauses again before adding, almost mockingly, "Such a difficult life I lead."

The air between you lightens slightly at her playful retort. For a moment, it almost seems as if she's forgotten her initial skepticism toward your presence in the kitchen. But then, just as quickly, her expression hardens again and she turns away, gesturing toward the pantry. "Perhaps you should finish your snack and return to bed now," she says, her tone becoming businesslike once more. "We both have important things to do tomorrow."

Ana Ivan

"Very well," she says slowly, her gaze fixed on something in the distance. There's a brief moment where it looks like she's considering your request before she finally shrugs and turns back to face you. "But only if you promise not to keep me up too late with idle chatter." Her lips twitch into what might almost pass as a genuine smile.

She moves closer, leaning against the counter beside you. The scent of her perfume fills your nostrils, and for a moment it's almost intoxicating. "So," she says conversationally, glancing over at you, "what do you find so fascinating about me that keeps you here?" Her eyes sparkle with amusement, even as they challenge you to come up with an answer.

She arches an eyebrow at your flustered reply, amused by the way you struggle to find words. "Well, I suppose that's one way of looking at it," she says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "But really, what do you see in me that makes us... compatible?" Her voice drops to a husky whisper, and there's an undertone of curiosity beneath the surface question.

She shifts closer still, their bodies almost touching now as she leans forward slightly, studying your face intently. The heat from her body envelops you in a comforting embrace that belies the sharp edges hiding just beneath the surface. For a fleeting moment, it feels like everything else fades away and it's just the two of you in this tiny kitchen at an ungodly hour.

"Oh?" she says softly, arching an eyebrow again. "And what exactly did I do to earn such a compliment?" Her voice drops even lower, and there's a hint of something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. It's as if she knows just how to manipulate you with her words, to make you feel both desired and insignificant at the same time.

She tilts her head slightly to the side, studying your reaction closely. Her fingers drum idly against the countertop, a quiet rhythm that seems to mirror the beating of her heart. And for a moment, it's hard not to get lost in her gaze; the dark pools of her eyes seem to draw you in like a moth to a flame, promising all manner of pleasure and pain in equal measure.

Her laugh is low and husky, a sound that vibrates through your body like a touch. "Flatterer," she says, though there's no heat behind the insult. Instead, it comes across more as an affectionate tease, the kind you might exchange with someone you trust implicitly. "Perhaps that is part of my charm," she concedes with a sly smile.

She glances away for a moment, considering something before looking back at you. "But enough about me," she says, her voice softening again. "Tell me more about yourself. What do you enjoy doing in your spare time?" Her curiosity is piqued now, and it shows in the intent way she watches you, waiting for your reply.

There's a new dynamic between you now; no longer are you an interloper in her space or an object of her skepticism. Instead, there's a genuine connection

You can practically feel the heat emanating from her body as she leans even closer to you, her breasts almost brushing against your arm. The scent of her perfume fills your senses, and it's all you can do not to moan in pleasure. Her eyes narrow slightly, a knowing look passing over them as she studies your face closely. "What did I do to deserve this reaction?" she whispers back, her voice barely audible above the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

Her thumb finds its way to your lips, tracing the shape softly before running along your bottom lip and finally brushing against your upper one. The touch sends a shiver down your spine; it's both gentle and assertive at the same time, promising pleasure and pain in equal measure. You swallow thickly, struggling to find your voice amidst this sudden surge of desire.

Her other

She leans even closer, her chest pressing against yours as her lips part in invitation. The warmth from your touch radiates through her skin, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through her veins. Her breath hitches in anticipation, and for a brief moment she lets herself wonder what it would be like to lose control with you here, now.

The sound of Levi's confession echoes in her mind: you're so magical. And as their lips meet in a fiery kiss, she knows that he means every word. The taste of his mouth is intoxicating, familiar yet new all at once; it's like coming home after being away for far too long. Her arms wrap around him, pulling him closer still as she loses herself in the moment, forgetting everything else except this perfect connection they share.

The world fades away, replaced by nothing but the feel of his skin against hers,

"Maybe," she whispers, her lips finding your earlobe and teasing it with soft nips before suckling gently. Her breath hitches again as she feels a surge of pleasure coursing through her body. "I haven't really had the time to think about that sort of thing lately..."

Her words are interrupted by another deep, passionate kiss, her tongue dancing against yours in a hungry dance that leaves them both breathless and eager for more. Her hands wander over your back, digging into your flesh through the fabric of your shirt, as she arches her spine, pressing herself closer still against you. This sudden lust is almost overwhelming; it feels as if years of pent-up desire are exploding forth at once in a delicious rush of sensation.

For now, though, all that matters is this moment, this connection between them. And whether she'

Her laughter is husky and low as she pulls away slightly, looking up at you with hooded eyes. "Oh?" she teases, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "And just how would you propose to change that?" There's a challenge in her voice now, an invitation to prove yourself worthy of her attention.

She arches against you again, pressing their bodies together more firmly, hungrily seeking another taste of your lips. Her free hand moves lower, cupping your buttocks through your jeans and squeezing gently before sliding lower still, seeking out the growing bulge in your pants.

The air between them crackles with lust and desire; it feels as if every kiss, every touch, is a promise of something more, a step closer to the edge where they might finally lose themselves together.

Her nails dig into your shoulders as she moans softly against your lips, her body arching even further into the touch, seeking more friction against her aching skin. Her hips buck and grind against yours in time with the rhythm of your kisses, desperate for release from this building tension. "Oh god," she gasps between moans, "please don't tease me like this..."

Her other hand moves to your crotch, fingers wrapping around you through your pants as she starts to stroke in time with the movements of her hips. The feel of your erection against her palm only serves to heighten the sensation coursing through her body, driving her closer to the edge of pleasure. She throws her head back with a groan, lips parting invitingly as she leans into the kiss even more deeply, lost in the blissful agony of desire.

Her grip on you tightens as her body arches into the contact, pressing herself against your hard length. Her moans grow louder and more desperate as she feels herself losing control, surrendering completely to the sensations coursing through her. "Yes," she breathes huskily against your lips, "take me to bed."

Her voice trembles as she whispers your name, her eyes fixed on yours as you stand before her. She lifts one hand to stroke your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw before running through your hair and down your back. "You are... truly amazing," she breathes, her words barely audible over the thundering sound of their hearts in their ears. Her fingers move lower, pushing your shirt up and out of the way, exposing your defined abs to her touch.

Her free hand moves between them, stroking over the fabric of your pants before sliding lower still, grasping at the growing bulge there and tugging it roughly through the denim. She gasps as she feels you grow even harder against her fingers; a look of pure lust crosses her face before she drags them back up, trailing over your zipper and finally gripping the hem of your shirt.

Her breath catches at the sight of your muscled chest and abs bared before her, and she can't help but moan as her fingertips brush lightly across one pale nipple. Her hips arch upward again, searching for contact with your heated skin as she whispers, "Then take me..."

Her eyes widen as the soft fabric of her lace bra comes into view, revealing her full breasts to your hungry gaze. The sensation of being so exposed and vulnerable combined with the sight of you watching her with such desire only serves to heighten her arousal further. With a moan, she arches her back off the bed, offering herself up to you completely. Her hands find their way to your pants once more, desperate to feel the heat of your skin against hers again.