I SPOT THEM BEFORE I even push through the staff entrance—the huddle of my coworkers around a tall figure in the hallway, their laughter bouncing off the walls like it’s a fucking garden party instead of the cramped back corridor of The Siren. My stomach drops when I recognize that particular shade of raven-black hair, that unmistakable confident stance. Alex. Of course it’s Alex.
I consider turning around and walking straight back out. But then what? Hide in my apartment until he gets bored and moves on? I know he won’t. Besides, I’d only be delaying the inevitable. Alex Orlov isn’t exactly known for giving up when he sets his mind to something.
I take a deep breath and push through the door. The hinges squeak, announcing my presence. Five heads turn my way—Mark, Kayla, Rina, and two others I barely register because myeyes lock on Alex. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a light blue button-down that brings out the ice in his eyes. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing forearms corded with muscle. He’s holding a cardboard tray of coffee cups, and beside him on the bench sits a pink box with a fancy bakery logo embossed in gold.
“Vincent!” Mark exclaims, like I’m the guest of honor arriving late to my own party. “Your brother brought us coffee! The real shit, not the toxic waste from Caty’s ancient machine.”
I flinch at the word “brother,” but Alex’s expression doesn’t change. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his smile easy and relaxed. If anything, he seems amused.
“Stepbrother,” he corrects smoothly, extending the tray toward me. “There’s still one left. Vanilla latte, two pumps, no foam. Right?”
My stomach does a weird flip. He remembers my coffee order from five years ago.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the cup, careful not to let our fingers brush. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I was in the neighborhood,” he says with a shrug that somehow manages to be both casual and intentional. “Thought I’d drop by, meet the people you work with.”
Rina leans forward, her lips curving into a smile that’s warmer than anything I’ve ever seen her direct at a man before. “Alex was just telling us about the summer he spent in Santorini. Apparently, he nearly got arrested for—what was it again?”
“Swimming in a protected sea cave at night,” Alex finishes, looking not at all embarrassed. “In my defense, I was nineteen and very drunk on ouzo.”
“And naked,” Kayla adds, giggling. “Don’t forget that part.”
“He was just about to tell us about the time he ended upon a yacht with some Russian oligarch’s daughter,” Mark says, looking at Alex with unmistakable admiration.
“Another time,” I interject, setting my untouched coffee down. “Alex, can I talk to you for a minute? In private?”
I don’t wait for his response, just head toward my dressing room, trusting he’ll follow. He does, of course. I feel him behind me, his presence a physical weight pressing against my spine even though he’s not touching me.
Once inside, I close the door and lean against it, arms crossed over my chest. I’m trying for stern, but as Alex’s eyes travel slowly down my body and back up, I feel heat rise to my face.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, but there’s less bite in my voice than I intended. After what happened at the dinner, after the bathroom… it’s hard to summon the same level of irritation I used to feel.
He smirks, settling himself comfortably on the edge of my makeup table. “Making friends with your coworkers. They seem nice. That redhead—Rina?—she’s got quite the sharp tongue.”
“Yeah, normally she uses it to eviscerate men, not flirt with them,” I say dryly.
Alex laughs, the sound warming something inside me that I’ve tried very hard to keep cold. “What can I say? I’m charming.”
“You’re something,” I mutter, but I can’t help the slight curve of my lips. His arrogance used to infuriate me. Now, after everything, it’s almost… endearing? God, I’m fucked.
“You ran off,” Alex says, abruptly changing topics. His voice drops lower, turning serious. “After dinner. You didn’t even say goodbye.”
I look away, unable to meet his gaze. “I needed to think.”
“About what happened in the bathroom?”
My eyes snap back to his. He’s watching me intently, his expression giving nothing away. “Among other things,” I admit.
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that your girlfriend was sitting right there at the table.”
Alex waves a dismissive hand. “I told you, that’s over. Has been for weeks. She’s just not ready to admit it.”
“And your father? Is he ready to admit it?” I can’t keep the edge from my voice when I mention Yuri.
Something flickers across Alex’s face—a shadow, there and gone. “He had a talk with me after everyone left.”
