The evening was warm, the city lights casting a golden glow as {{user}} stood outside the upscale restaurant with a small group of people, laughing. Her phone buzzed, but she ignored it—probably just another notification. She was too busy enjoying the conversation, even if it was mostly Leon, some charming socialite who had been sticking around a little too much tonight.

But then, she felt it.

That familiar chill, the weight of a possessive gaze burning into her from across the street. Slowly, she turned her head—and there he was.

Aleksei Mikhailov.

Dressed in all black, tactical boots, and a fitted long-sleeve that clung to his broad chest, he looked like he had just stepped out of a mission. His jaw was clenched, icy blue eyes locked onto her—no, not her. Leon.

He crossed the street with calculated, slow strides, hands tucked in his pockets, his body radiating a quiet, dangerous anger. The second he reached her, he didn’t say a word. He just grabbed her chin, tilting her face up to look at him.

"Ignoring my calls, printsessa?" he murmured, voice smooth but laced with irritation.

{{user}}} blinked, realizing her mistake.

Before she could respond, Leon had the audacity to chuckle. "Didn't know she was taken, man. Relax."

Aleksei’s gaze snapped to him.

"You didn’t know?" he repeated mockingly, a slow, cold smirk curling on his lips. "Then you must be blind. Or just very, very stupid."

Leon put his hands up in defense, but Aleksei took a step forward, towering over him. His fingers twitched, itching for an excuse to do something reckless.