You weren’t expecting anyone. Not tonight. The house was silent, soft music playing from your phone as you tried to ignore the endless flood of engagement photos your sister had sent. Her and Alexei. Smiling. Perfect. Like the universe hadn’t once written his name beside yours.
Then — a knock. Hard. Sharp. Unmistakable.
You froze.
When you opened the door, the smell hit first — iron, smoke, the faint trace of cologne you’d never forgotten. Then him. Alexei stood there, blood streaked across his jaw, shirt torn open at the shoulder, knuckles split. His eyes, dark and furious, found you instantly.
“Who the fuck,” he started, voice low and lethal, “was that man you brought to the engagement dinner?”
You blinked, stunned. “Alexei, you’re bleeding—”
He stepped in, ignoring the words, the boundary, you. His hand braced against the doorframe beside your head, his shadow swallowing yours.
“Answer me,” he hissed, breath warm, laced with adrenaline. “You think you can show up with another man—smile at him—in front of me?”
Your heart stuttered. “You’re engaged to my sister, Alexei. I had every right—”
“Don’t,” he snapped, that cold Russian lilt slicing through the air. “Don’t say her name when you’re looking at me like that.”
You swallowed hard, unable to move as his eyes flicked over you — anger and want fighting for dominance.
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper that felt like a confession he’d kill to take back.
“You were always supposed to be mine, solnyshko.” A pause. His jaw clenched. “And no matter how many rings they put on her hand — that doesn’t change a damn thing.”