03• “You’re overthinking it, little fox.”

HARPER PETROVSKY

I find myself locked onto his eyes, darkened by the low lighting—but there’s an intense gleam beneath the sly smile curving his perfectly shaped lips. I could call him a flawless work of art, but there’s something about him that feels… familiar.

“You’re assuming a lot,” I finally say, pressing my lips into a thin line.

“I like taking risks,” he replies, still wearing that smile. “And you look like exactly the kind of risk worth taking.”

The way he speaks, how his eyes trail over my body before returning to my face—it makes the air between us feel thick, charged. The club still pulses around us, but I barely register the music, the lights, the crowd. In this moment, all that exists is this exchange—this dangerous game of words and unspoken tension.

“You don’t even know me,” I counter, lifting my chin.

“Maybe,” he admits, that dangerous smile never leaving his lips. “But I enjoy discovering new things. And you, little fox… You seem full of surprises.”

He takes a step closer, the distance between us nearly vanishing. The heat of his body merges with mine, and the intensity of his gaze makes me feel like I’m being drawn into something I might not be able to resist.

“Little fox—clever nickname, coming from a man like you,” I reply, my voice lower than I intended, almost a whisper blending into the music. I try to keep the tone light, but the tension humming between us is impossible to ignore—thick enough to cut with a knife.

“A man like me?” he echoes, tilting his head slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. There’s something in the glint of his stare—something that makes me feel like I’m being dared, pulled deeper into this game, invited to find out just how far I’m willing to go. “And what kind of man do you think I am?”

He’s so close now that I can smell the subtle scent of his expensive cologne—seductive and intoxicating all at once.

“Dangerous,” I reply, letting the word roll off my tongue slowly, savoring its effect. I seem to be playing his game well. “And maybe... a little presumptuous.”

He smiles—a smile that’s more provocation than charm.

“Presumptuous? I prefer confidence. But I get it—not everyone knows how to handle that.”

The tension is unbearable, and the only thing keeping it from snapping is that neither of us is willing to give in. Not yet.

“I handle confidence just fine,” I counter, stepping a little closer—so close I can almost feel his breath against my face. “As long as it’s earned.”

He laughs again—that low, rough sound that sends an involuntary shiver through my body.

“I like you. I think this game is going to be fun.”

“If it’s a game, you should know—I don’t lose,” I say, lifting my chin and locking eyes with him.

“We’ll see,” he murmurs, those steel-blue eyes sparkling with amusement—the kind that twists my stomach. “But be careful, little fox. Playing with fire can be dangerous.”

He slides his arm around my waist, pulling my body against his, closing the last bit of space between us. My breathing quickens, and my heart pounds in my chest. The way his gaze lingers on my lips—it hypnotizes me. And a strange feeling of familiarity creeps in.

“Little fox…” he whispers, his voice low, almost lost in the music. But the tone—the way he says it—makes me tremble with anticipation and desire.

My gaze drops to his lips. Everything in me is screaming not to do it, not to give in—but the pull between us is too strong. He leans in slightly, and my head spins from the nearness, from the anticipation of his lips on mine.

I can feel his breath—warm and soft, mingling with mine. We’re just millimeters away when a second voice cuts through the air—cold and sharp:

“I’ve found you, Harper.”

The voice is so close, so commanding, it sends a chill racing down my spine. Instantly, I feel my blood freeze.

The blond man pulls back slightly but remains close. His expression shifts—more serious, more dangerous. But it’s not him I’m focused on. No—my eyes turn toward the source of that voice. Cold. Authoritative. So familiar.

And when I see him, I’m hit by the full force of his presence.

Alexander Kireev has always been impossible to ignore—broad-shouldered and muscular, his black shirt fits like it was tailored to every line of his strong body. His arms, covered in intricate tattoos, carry the weight of danger and artistry—art marked by the mafia. His face, sculpted and sharp, radiates control and coldness, and his piercing pale eyes lock onto mine.

He looks at me in a way that unsettles me—as if I’m a puzzle he’s already solved, as if he knew I was here all along. There’s no warmth in his gaze, nothing to suggest he sees me as someone with hopes or desires, yearning for freedom after all these years. That lack of emotion only makes him more intimidating.

“Viktor… Viktor.”

Alexander’s voice—cold and steady—cuts through my thoughts. I step back from the blond man, really looking at him now. The resemblance to Alexander is undeniable—so obvious I feel foolish for not seeing it before.

It was Viktor all along? How did I miss that?

Viktor flashes a smug smile at me, mischief gleaming in those ocean-blue eyes that twist my stomach into knots.

“Surprised, Foxy? Did you really think you were going to get a kiss from me? Sorry to disappoint you.” He scoffs, turning away into the crowd. But before he can get far, I grab his wrist.

He glances down at my fingers, then slowly lifts his gaze to mine—icy and unreadable.

“You knew, didn’t you? From the moment our eyes met—you knew it was me.” I speak through clenched teeth, lifting my chin in an attempt to intimidate him.

Viktor stares at me, and for a brief moment, I see something shift behind those blue eyes—something that might be regret… or maybe just satisfaction at having fooled me. But the smirk that curls on his lips tells me otherwise. It’s mocking, almost amused, like my shock was exactly what he wanted.

“So what?” he replies, his voice smooth and dangerous.

So what? His words catch me off guard. How did he become this... stranger? The Viktor I once knew as a child is gone, replaced by a man who’s cocky, arrogant, and completely full of himself.

Anger starts to rise inside me, burning like wildfire. My hands tremble, every part of me screaming to lash out, to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“You knew who I was, and still…”

“And still?” Viktor cuts in, his voice low and laced with malice. He steps closer with such ease that it makes me want to step back, but my body stays frozen.

With a gentle motion, he raises his hand and brushes the corner of my lip with his thumb—a soft touch, but one that sends a jolt through me.

“You’re overthinking it, little fox.”