The Aleksey who used to feel like home.
I know he was trying to protect me, in his own twisted way—but it still hurt. The things he said. The way he tried to make me feel guilty for not standing with my father. And then that moment… when he turned the tables on me, implying I was the one hiding things, too.
He was right.
I hadn’t told Liam.
Not until that night.
I swallow hard, the champagne suddenly sitting too heavy in my stomach. I don’t even know if Aleksey meant to push me toward that confession, or if he was just lashing out. Either way, the fallout’s still rattling inside me.
I scan the ballroom out of habit—half instinct, half escape—and that’s when I see them.
Liam, standing rigidly near one of the tall windows. And across from him, just out of the glow of the overhead lights, Aleksey.
My breath catches. He’s here.
He’s dressed in a dark suit, posture relaxed—but there’s nothing casual about the energy crackling between him and Liam. They’re squared off in quiet confrontation, too far for me to hear but close enough that I can feel the tension radiating from them.
For a heartbeat, I almost go over. I want to. I want to break it up, or explain, or maybe just look Aleksey in the eye and ask him why he came.
But I don’t move.
The air between them is too charged. Liam looks like he’s one wrong word from snapping, and Aleksey’s stance is deceptively calm—like a tiger pretending to nap. This isn’t a conversation I should step into. Not here. Not tonight. The last thing I want is to be the reason something explodes in front of Senator Burns and a room full of donors.
So I stay rooted to the floor. Watching. Waiting.
And wishing it didn’t hurt so much.
Then, slowly, Liam turns away from Aleksey and makes his way back toward me. His shoulders are still tight, but his expression is composed.
“Hey,” I say softly as he reaches me. “Everything alright?”
He nods once. “It’s fine. Just a surprise guest.”
I don’t push. His tone says enough—it’s handled. For now.
He offers his hand, palm up. “Dance with me?”
I hesitate just long enough to feel him doubt the offer, then slip my fingers into his. “Okay.”
The string quartet has shifted to something smooth and dreamy, the kind of slow waltz meant to soothe tensions and loosen purse strings. Liam’s hand rests at my waist as we move together, his steps confident, mine trailing just slightly behind.
It’s easy to pretend we’re just another couple here—politically adjacent, romantically entangled. No Mafia ties. No secrets. No blood between us.
But then Senator Burns steps up to the mic, and the music fades.
“I’m going to duck out for a minute,” I whisper. “Restroom.”
Liam kisses my hand like we’re still playing the part. “I’ll be here.”
I slip out of the ballroom and head for the quieter hallway near the coat check, where the buzz of conversation becomes amuffled hum. I pull out my phone and scroll to Aleksey’s name before I can overthink it.
It rings twice before he answers.
“What is it,Annushka?” His voice is quieter than usual. Less sharp. Tired.
“I just…” I lean against the wall and close my eyes. “I saw you. Earlier. I wanted to talk, but it looked tense.”