“God, Lucas—he kissed me!” Tyler blurts the second I pick up. “That bastard kissed me, and I slapped him.”
My eyes fly wide, not because he got kissed. I’d seen that coming since day one. The way they had looked at each other, I knew Tyler wouldn’t be able to escape him. No, what shocks me is the slap.
“You slapped your boss?!” I demand, incredulous. Alex catches my gaze, one brow arched, before letting out a quiet, amused laugh. It’s funny because he knows what’s going on with those two.
“I had to,” Tyler seethes, but his breathless edge betrays him. “Oh, Lucas, he drives me insane. Remember when you said he looks like the human version of Alex? He might look like it, but trust me, he’s the devil. One of these days, I swear I’ll take his gun and put a bullet through his skull.”
I bite back my laugh, pressing my lips together. I want to tell him that his boss might actually be into that, but I stop myself before he curses me out.
Poor Tyler. My best friend, who unknowingly stepped into the storm that is the Petrov family.
EPILOGUE —Alexander
NOVEMBER
“I swear I’m smashing Jake’s head with a golf stick as soon as I leave this place,” Viktor seethes, adjusting his suit jacket, jaw tight.
My lips tug into a faint smile.
“You can’t blame him for flirting with Tyler,” I say, my attention caught by the painting across the room, it’s an image of overwater bungalows glowing beneath golden light, turquoise water alive with dolphins, the air painted with warmth and flowers.
It reminds me of Bora Bora, the paradise where Lucas and I stayed for over a week last year. The memory tightens something deep in my chest.
“Well, Tyler is mine,” Viktor grits out, cutting through my thoughts.
I sigh, shifting my gaze back to him.
“And how many times has Tyler told you that he isn’t yours, Dear cousin?” I ask sternly. His jaw flexes, but I keep going. “You can’t go on a killing spree every time people interact with him, Viktor.”
He lets out a low scoff, plucking a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray. He takes a slow sip, watching me over the rim with that sharp glint of mischief in his eyes.
“You’re one to talk,” he says finally, smirking. “I’m sure Maksim tells you how Lucas gets all that attention at school. I bet it keeps you up at night.”
My jaw tightens before I can stop it.
Of course it does.
Maksim never fails to remind me that people stare at Lucas, whisper about him, and want him too.
And I know I shouldn’t care.
I want people to see how beautiful he is. Hell, I’m proud of it, fucking over the moon that someone as breathtaking as Lucas is mine. He’s radiant in a way that draws people in without even trying. The kind of beauty that turns heads and softens rooms.
But sometimes, it drives me insane.
It’s the way people look at him—soft, hungry, curious, it’s the kind of look that lingers too long. It makes me want to break something just to remind them who he belongs to.
The thought of anyone seeing him like that makes my blood run hot.
But it also gives me this twisted satisfaction, knowing they’ll never have what I do.
They don’t get to touch him.
They don’t get to sleep beside him, to feel the way he curls into me in the middle of the night.
They don’t get to devour his lips, to taste the little sounds he makes when he melts under my hands.
They don’t get to trace the curve of his neck with kisses or hear the way he moans and whimper in that erotic and wrecked way of his.
