No one notices us at first.
Alex takes a glass of champagne from a passing servant and hands it to me without a word. I hesitate, then take it, holding it with both hands to keep it from trembling. The glass is cold. My throat’s already tight.
“Alex!”
The voice rings out like a firecracker in the warm buzz of conversation.
I turn toward it just as Alex sighs, barely. Not in annoyance. More like a subtle groan of inevitability. His hand finds the small of my back, steady as always, and he guides us toward the sound.
That’s when I see him.
Maksim.
I recognized him instantly from the art gallery. His eyes are the same: curious, amused, calculating. He’s tall, handsome, and charismatic in a loud way that draws attention whether he tries to or not. He stands with a small group of people.
The attention shifts like a ripple in the room. Subtle, but real. People begin turning, whispers passing like thin trails of smoke through the crowd. Their eyes land on us—on Alex, on me. I feel it in my spine. My skin itches. I grip the champagne glass harder.
Maksim steps forward and pulls Alex into a hug more forceful than it needs to be. I notice Alex’s hand slide off my back as he does, like he’s bracing himself.
“Always showing up late as usual,” Maksim grins. “And who do we have here?”
His eyes flick to me. There’s no malice. Just interest, the kind that makes me feel like I’m being studied.
And so the introductions begin.
Alex starts by introducing me to his brothers. There’s Maksim—whom I already know a little about and then his older brother, Anton.
There’s something about Anton that makes my instincts stir. He feels like the most dangerous one in the room. He seems as quiet as Alex, but colder somehow. He watches me through clear-framed glasses, his gaze sharp and unreadable, like he’s trying to dissect me without a word. His matte black hair is slicked back, his cheekbones sharp, jaw set like stone. There’s an intensity in his eyes that pins me in place. It’s icy and calculating.
I look away quickly, before that stare can unravel me. Before I end up shrinking behind Alex like a shadow.
Next to Anton stands Viktor, who Alex explains is his best friend and cousin. I brace myself for another cold stare, the same cutting sharpness I’d gotten from Anton and Alex—but Viktor’s eyes are different. Gentler. Less curious, less demanding. He’s lean and muscular, though not in the same intimidating way as Alex. His features are sharp; his face is handsome. He looks like the softer, more human version of Alex.
Then there are the twins—Ivana and Igor—identical whirlwinds with dark hair and matching features. Ivana radiates style and playfulness, while Igor carries a quiet confidence that feels like controlled chaos. He looks composed, but something about him says trouble.
I offer everyone a polite nod and a smile—not that I can say anything out loud. But none of them seems to mind that I don’t speak.
Then Alex asks, “Where are Mom and Dad?”
Maksim shrugs. “Dad caught a fever this morning. Nothing serious, but he’s locked himself in his room like it’s the plague.”
Alex’s expression doesn’t change, but I can tell he’s listening carefully.
“Mom, though—ah, speak of the devil.”
I follow Maksim’s gaze.
She walks toward us with grace that makes the entire room seem to part around her. No drama, no grand entrance, just quiet authority. She’s dressed in an elegant navy gown that falls perfectly over her slender figure, her black hair pulled into a sleek twist, and diamond jewelry glints against her smooth, tanned skin. Her features are delicate, undeniably Thai, and strikingly beautiful. She smiles as she approaches.
“Alex,” she says gently, warmth blooming in her voice. “You’re here.”
Alex’s face softens. “Mother.”
She reaches up to touch his face lightly, brushing something invisible from his cheek. Then her eyes land on me.
“And you must be Lucas.”
I swallow. My hands are suddenly clammy. I nod my head slightly in greeting and give her a small, unsure smile. Alex told her about me?
