We stood there, tension thick as the air before a late-summer storm, neither of us backing down. It was stupid. Reckless.
And yet, I liked the way he looked at me.
Mikhail cleared his throat. “Enough.”
We both looked his way.
“We have a mission,” he said. “This is not a vacation.”
“So you’ve said,” Viktor murmured.
“Viktor,” Mikhail snapped.
“What? I’m just admiring your leadership.”
I laughed, unable to help it.
We moved on to another boutique, and another. Each one adding layers to an experience I’d never asked for and didn’t know what to do with. I found myself falling into their rhythm without noticing, with Viktor’s loud commentary, Andrei’s slyasides, and Mikhail’s constant gravity as he attempted to keep his brothers under some semblance of control.
As we stepped out onto a private balcony overlooking the glittering sprawl of the city, shopping bags dangling from Viktor’s hand, a new dress brushing my thighs, Andrei leaned on the railing beside me. He hadn’t stopped watching me. He wasn’t subtle about it either. Leaning his elbows on the railing, shoulders relaxed, he studied me like I was some interesting puzzle piece he intended to fit exactly where he wanted. His eyes tracked every shift of my expression, every breath I took.
I felt the weight of his gaze. Felt it all the way down my spine and straight in my core.
Finally, I had enough and turned toward him. “Do you glare at everyone like that, or did I win a special prize today?”
His mouth quirked. “Glare? I’m admiring.”
“Is that what you call it?” I asked. “Feels more like you’re plotting.”
He didn’t deny it. “Maybe I am.”
I scoffed, folding my arms. “Should I be flattered?”
“You should be careful,” he countered. “Men like me don’t stare at women unless they’re thinking about something.”
“And what are you thinking?” I asked, raising a brow.
His eyes dipped—slowly—to the line of the new dress clinging to my hips before he dragged them back to my face. “Nothing you’re ready to hear yet.”
I barked a laugh. “You’re adorable when you think you’re the dangerous one.”
He stepped closer, but not close enough to touch me. Just close enough that I had to tilt my chin up to keep the upper hand.
“Princess,” he murmured, “I was dangerous the moment you walked onto our private jet.”
“And I was dangerous long before that,” I shot back.
He smirked. “That’s why I like you.”
“Is that supposed to endear me to you?”
“No,” he replied coolly. “But it’s true.”
“Your brothers said the same thing,” I said, flicking my gaze past him toward the gallery behind us. “I’m starting to think it’s genetic.”
He leaned in just slightly, testing my boundaries, voice dropping low enough for only me to hear. “Oh, I don’t need my brothers’ lines.”
“Or their experience?” I asked coyly.
