No words. No warning.
Just his hand leaving my back and clamping down on the stranger’s wrist like a vice. Brutal, precise, and quiet in a way that somehow feels louder than shouting.
The man jerks slightly, more out of surprise than pain. Or maybe both. His smile thins.
“Still so dramatic,” he mutters, flexing his wrist once Konstantin lets go. “You always did have that flair for theatrics.”
Konstantin’s stare doesn’t waver.
His voice is steel. “Get your hands off my wife, Filipp.”
Oh.Wife.Right. That’s me.
Konstantin’s hand returns to my waist, but this time, it’s not gentle. His fingers tighten, possessive, like he’s anchoring me to him. Like he wants everyone in this room to know exactly who I belong to.
My breath catches—not from fear, but from the way my body reacts before my brain can catch up.
The other man—Filipp—says something in Russian, low and mocking.
But I don’t hear the rest of it.
Becausemy brain is currently short-circuiting.
That hand.
That grip.
That move.
Holy hell.
Why is the hottest thing he’s ever done also low-key terrifying?
My skin is still tingling where Filipp touched me, but now it’s for a whole different reason.
His icy blue eyes flick to me again—and Konstantin steps between us, smooth and deliberate, cutting off Filipp’s line of sight like he’s slamming a door. His back blocks out everything else.
I lean just enough to peek around him. Filipp’s still standing there, all lazy smirk and bad intentions.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Filipp?”
“Relax. I came to congratulate the happy couple. Isn’t that what family’s for?”
“You’re not family,” Konstantin snaps. “You’re a leech.”
“Don’t be cruel,” Filipp says lightly, flicking his gaze back to me like I’m a drink he’s not allowed to touch. “You didn’t tell her about me?”
“Because I don’t waste breath on parasites.”
The smile falters. Brief. Blink, and you’d miss it.
Then it returns sharper. Like a knife hidden in a bouquet.
“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always been good at hiding things.” His gaze drops to my neckline, lingers in a way that makes me want to stab him with my heel. “But this? A wife? Who knew you had it in you after Irina…?”
Konstantin moves. It’s not much—just a step—but it shifts the air, the temperature, the mood. Everything tilts.
His voice drops to lethal calm. “Touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your hand. Then I’ll decide whether to stop there.”
