Alex’s eyes narrow to slits. In one swift motion, he grabs the front of my shirt and slams me against the tree. My head knocks against the bark, and I taste blood in my mouth from biting my tongue.
“Working?” Alex spits the word like it offends him. “You disappear for five fucking years and show up shaking your ass for frat boys?”
I try to shove him off, my palms flat against his chest. “Let go of me.”
He doesn’t budge. Doesn’t even sway. When did he get so strong? The last time I saw him, he was seventeen, and I was eighteen, still stronger than him. Now, pushing against him feels like trying to move a boulder. Gone is the lanky guy who used to follow me around the house. This Alex is solid muscle, carved from stone and fury.
His hand closes around my throat—not choking, not yet, but enough to make his point. His eyes burn into mine—the same Orlov blue. Just like his father’s.
Fuck. I knew he would be pissed, but I didn’t realize how much. I didn’t think he’d care after all this time.
“Why, Vincent? Why this?” he demands, fingers tighteningaround my neck. “You didn’t even fucking say goodbye.”
“It’s none of your business,” I say, aiming for indifferent but landing closer to breathless.
Alex’s eyes darken, a storm gathering. His grip tightens enough to make me gasp. My hands come up to his chest again, pushing.
“Alex, stop. You’re hurting me.”
“Good.” His voice drops, bitter and quiet. “You deserve it after what you did.”
The accusation hangs between us, sharp and poisonous.
“Ungrateful,” Alex continues. “That’s what you are. My family gave you everything. A home. Private tutors. Ballet lessons. And how do you thank us? By fucking disappearing without a word.”
My throat tightens under his grip, but it’s his words that choke me.
“You didn’t just leave us,” he says, leaning closer, his breath hot against my face. “You left her too. Your own mother. She’s been worried sick about you for years. Years of not knowing if you were alive or dead.”
Another lie. My mother was perfectly aware of Yuri’s orders. Still, the mention of her sends a stab through my chest. Alex must see it in my face because his expression shifts, satisfaction mixing with the anger.
His hand falls from my neck to my chest, pressing as if he could burn through it to the truth underneath.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask.
“I want you to tell me the truth,” he says, and for a moment, beneath the fury, I catch a glimpse of the boy who looked at me like I hung the moon. “Why did you disappear?”
When I don’t answer, his frustration boils over.
“Andthis?” His hand sweeps down, gesturing at my outfit. “Ballet not working out for you, huh? Had to find another way to take your clothes off for strangers?”
The contempt in his voice slices through me, but I will my expression to remain blank.
“I do what I have to do. You have no idea about anything.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to kill me. The distance between us is razor-thin and charged. His eyes flick down my body, then back up, confusion displacing his anger for a split second.
I seize the opportunity. A twist of my hips, a duck under his arm, and I stumble back a few steps, putting precious distance between us.
“Leave me alone,” I snap, though my voice shakes like it doesn’t believe itself.
Alex’s fists clench at his sides. He says nothing, just watches me with that ruined expression—like I’ve betrayed him and he doesn’t know how to stop bleeding.
I don’t wait for him to recover. I turn and run, sprinting across the lawn toward the street where my friends wait. Behind me, I hear him call my name once, twice, the mere sound of his voice almost enough to make me look back. Almost.
Rina spots me first, her eyes widening at whatever she sees in my face. She steps forward, positioning herself between me and the direction I came from.
“What happened?” She’s using her mama-bear voice, the one she breaks out when the bouncers at the club let in someone who gets too handsy with the dancers.
