I should make up some excuse, some reason why I absolutely cannot attend a party at Alexander Orlov’s place.
“Sure,” I hear myself say instead. “Why not?”
Alex’s smile is triumphant. “Great! I’ll text you all the details.” He pulls out his phone, collecting numbers from everyone.
As they exchange information, I lean close to his ear, keeping my voice low enough that only he can hear. “What are you playing at?”
He turns his head slightly, his lips almost brushing my earlobe. “Who says I’m playing at anything? Maybe I just want to spend time with you somewhere that isn’t a strip club or my father’s house.”
Put that way, it sounds almost… reasonable. Almost normal, like he’s just a guy interested in me, wanting to hang out somewhere comfortable. But nothing about Alex is ever that simple.
“I’ll see you on Saturday, then.” He steps back, gives everyone a wave, and heads toward the exit, confidence in every line of his body.
I watch him go, torn between anticipation and dread. Whatever Alex is planning, whatever game he’s playing… I’m already too far in to back out now. The smart move would be to disappear again, to protect myself from the inevitable fallout when Yuri finds out what’s happening between me and his precious son.
But when have I ever made the smart move when it comes to Alex Orlov?
***
The elevator ride up to Alex’s penthouse feels like ascending to another world. Mark’s practically vibrating with excitement beside me, while Kayla keeps checking her makeup in herphone’s front camera. Rina stands with arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed, but I catch the way her eyes widen when the elevator’s digital display hits the highest floor number. Me? I’m trying to remember how to breathe, how to act normal when everything about this situation is anything but. I shouldn’t be returning to my stepbrother’s orbit willingly. Yet here I am, pulled back by whatever fucked-up gravity exists between us, unable or unwilling to break free.
“Holy shit,” Mark whispers as the elevator doors slide open, revealing a private foyer with marble flooring. “This is next level.”
The foyer leads directly to a massive door that looks like it belongs in some European castle, not an apartment building. Before any of us can knock, it swings open, and there stands Alex, casual in dark jeans and a fitted gray henley that clings to his chest in ways that make my mouth go dry. His hair is artfully tousled, like he just ran his fingers through it, and his smile widens when he sees us.
“You made it,” he says, eyes landing on me for a fraction too long before he steps back to let us in. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
Kayla makes a strangled sound beside me that perfectly captures what we’re all thinking. Humble? This place is anything but. The entryway opens to a sprawling living space with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city below. Everything is sleek, modern, expensive—clean lines and neutral tones punctuated by strategic splashes of color. It screams money without being tacky about it.
“Fuck me,” Rina murmurs, dropping her aloof act entirely. “You live here alone?”
“For now,” Alex says with a shrug. “Let me give you thetour before everyone else arrives.”
I hang back a bit as Alex leads us through the open-concept kitchen with its gleaming appliances and marble countertops. The others ooh and aah appropriately, Kayla running her fingers along the smooth surfaces like she’s petting a rare animal. I try to focus on the apartment, but my eyes keep returning to Alex—the easy confidence in his movements, the way he gestures when he speaks, the curve of his neck when he turns to answer one of Mark’s questions.
“Dude, is that a wine fridge?” Mark asks, pointing to a built-in unit that takes up an entire wall.
Alex nods. “My father sends cases from his collection. I don’t know shit about wine, to be honest, but feel free to grab whatever looks good.”
“Your dad just casually sends you cases of what looks like thousand-dollar bottles of wine?” Rina asks, peering through the glass door.
“It’s his way of showing affection,” Alex says with a wry smile. “Money instead of words.”
I recognize the hint of bitterness in his tone—something only someone who grew up with Yuri Orlov would notice. Our eyes meet briefly over Rina’s head, and a current of understanding passes between us.
The tour continues through a dining room I’m betting has never been used for actual meals, a home office that looks like it belongs in an architectural magazine, and finally down a hallway lined with doors.
“Guest rooms,” Alex explains, pushing one door open to reveal a perfectly staged bedroom that looks like a luxury hotel suite. “Bathroom’s through there if anyone needs it.”
Kayla immediately beelines for the en suite bathroom,pulling Rina along with her. Their squeals echo off the tiles a moment later.
“These towels feel like clouds!” Kayla calls out. “And oh my god, is this La Mer? The whole line?”
Alex chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Help yourself to anything you want to try.”
Mark follows the girls into the bathroom, leaving me alone with Alex in the guest bedroom. The tension that’s been building since the elevator suddenly thickens, becoming almost tangible in the space between us.
“Nice place,” I say, trying to sound casual.
