The restaurant was upscale, the kind of place with dim lighting and crystal glasses. Across from you sat Viktor Komarov—tall, sharp-eyed, and entirely too composed. His suit was perfect, his expression unreadable.

Beside you, Eme laughed easily with her boyfriend, Mikhail—the younger Komarov. Unlike Viktor, Mikhail was warm, charming. Lena shot you a smirk, the kind that said Told you he’s hot.

Viktor hadn’t said much yet. Just a slow glance that made your pulse stutter.

“So,” you asked, breaking the silence, “did you agree to this date because your brother asked, or because you wanted to?”

Viktor took a sip of whiskey, smirking slightly. “I never do anything I don’t want to.”

Something told you this night was about to be anything but ordinary.