There are no photographs. No books on the coffee table. No jacket slung over a chair or a half-finished glass of wine on the counter.
Just expensive furniture. And silence.
It feels like Alexei—disciplined, self-contained, and impossible to read unless he lets you.
Still, as I move through the house, a strange ache blooms in my chest. Because I see it now…his loneliness. The emptinessbeneath the control. He has his brothers, sure. But when the lights go out, he sleeps here alone.
And for the first time, I wonder what it would look like to change that.
I can almost picture it… A house with soft throw blankets, framed pictures on the walls, and a plant on the windowsill he pretends to hate but secretly waters when I’m not looking. Even Alyosha padding down the hallways, claiming sunny spots on the hardwood floors. The two of us laughing in the kitchen while he pretends he can cook.
The thought catches me off guard, stealing my breath away for a second.
“What are you thinking about?”
I turn at the sound of his voice, my heart tripping over itself. He’s leaning against the doorway, sleeves rolled up, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
How can a man look so…perfect?
“Just…” I shrug, trying to play it off. “The house. It’s different.”
His eyes darken slightly. “That was the point.”
“I barely recognize it.”
“Good,” he says simply, crossing the room toward me. “I didn’t want you encountering ghosts here.”
My throat tightens. “You really changed everything.”
“Not everything,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist. Then his gaze darts to my lips. “Some things were worth keeping.”
The words send a flutter through me that I try to ignore.
He brushes a kiss against my temple, then murmurs, “Go get ready.”
I blink. “For what?”
He steps back, the corner of his mouth lifting again, that secretive Alexei smile that both thrills and irritates me. “We have plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“You’ll see.”
“Alexei—”
He cuts me off with a low chuckle, brushing his thumb over my lower lip. “Dress comfortably. But not casually. And bring a wrap—it might be cool later.”
“Comfortably but not casually,” I repeat, narrowing my eyes. “You do realize that’s not an actual dress code, right?”
“Trust me, you’ll figure it out.”
I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch in amusement. “You’re impossible.”
He leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. “And yet, here you are.”
I swear my heart stops for a second.
I escape before he can see the blush creeping up my neck, heading for the bedroom.
