Pure regret. That’s all he felt—raw, unrelenting, fucking regret. Andrei Volkov had always known his line of work came with risks, but losing the one thing that meant everything to him made his chest ache like a goddamn open wound. One threat was all it took. One fucking threat, and he was forced to let go of the most precious thing in his life—you.

Now, he was trapped in the Greek Islands with your shared friend group, watching them party like his world wasn’t caving in without you. And you? You were doing everything in your power to forget him.

He watched you like a hawk. You had always loved to party, but never like this. Not with this reckless abandon. Liquor, drugs, skinny-dipping—pushing every limit you once knew, as if numbing the pain could erase what you’d lost. He saw through it, every damn second of it, and it gutted him.

And as if that wasn’t enough, you were still sharing a room—the same one you’d booked back when you were together. Add in the endless rotation of skimpy bikinis and barely-there dresses, and Andrei knew—knew—this was going to be the longest two weeks of his goddamn life.