BastienI stand alone in the aftermath of the full moon, its madness now just a lingering echo in my blood. The morning light seeps into the penthouse, casting a pale glow that does little to lift the weight from my shoulders. It’s the day after the nonsensical attack on Red Diamond, my casino—a battleground that saw no real battle, a storm that was all fury and no rain. The silence of the aftermath is a stark contrast to the chaos that rattled within me just hours ago.My focus is razor sharp, a necessary edge to slice through the confusion left by Popov’s half-hearted assault. It reeks of a feint, a misdirection, and it’s got me clawing for answers I’m not sure I want to find. The Russians have been silent for too long; I knew they’d come, but like this? It’s unlike Popov, and that unsettles me.I don’t fucking get it.Andrej approaches with a grim set to his jaw. He’s got the rundown, a detailed report of the ‘attack’—if you could even call it that. Barely a handful of men stormed
AnyaThe penthouse elevator door slides open with a silent, practiced ease, the quiet opulence of the foyer swallowing my rapid footsteps. It’s been seven days since I last saw Bastien, seven days since he demanded space, a trial for both of us that felt more like a silent agony than a respite.As I cross the threshold, the scent of him—the crisp edge of his cologne mixed with the underlying current of his strength—fills my senses, a heady reminder of what I’ve been craving. My heart thunders in my chest, a frantic Drumline to the chaos of my thoughts.I hesitate only for a heartbeat before I launch myself into the expanse of the penthouse, propelled by a force I can’t, and don’t want to, resist. The door to his office is ajar, a sliver of light beckoning me toward the man who’s been both my captor and my unwitting savior.There he stands, a figure carved from the very essence of power and restrained danger, his silhouette framed against the window that overlooks the city he commands.
BastienThe city unfolds before us, a concrete jungle where every street is a vein, every towering building a sentry of my domain. I feel the pulse of it beneath my feet, the rhythmic lifeblood that syncs with my own heart—a heart that’s become far too susceptible to the woman at my side.Anya. Even her name has become a talisman in my mind, a charm that’s supposed to bring luck but instead brings a sweet, searing chaos.Her presence throws me, makes me feel shit I’ve got no business feeling. But today, I’ve got to put on a show, make it crystal clear to anyone with eyes on us that she’s under my protection. I keep my hand firm on her waist, a silent, snarling challenge to any man who dares to even think of laying a finger on her.“Stick close,” I murmur, my voice low enough that only she can hear. “This isn’t just for show. It’s for your safety.”She nods, a slight tilt of her chin that tells me she understands more than she lets on.“Are you always this... territorial?” Anya’s voice
BastienThe penthouse looms above the city, a realm of steel and glass casting reflections of a life I both control and am enslaved by. The ride up is silent, the kind of quiet that’s heavy with words unsaid, a tension that hums in the air like electricity. Anya’s beside me, her presence a siren call that’s become my own personal brand of addiction.I can feel the pulse in her neck, the flutter of her heartbeat a counter-rhythm to the thudding in my own chest. The air is thick with the scent of the city rain that clings to her, an earthy perfume mixed with the faintest trace of her floral shampoo. It’s intoxicating, a sensory anchor in the midst of the storm I’ve conjured.The elevator dings its arrival, and we step into the penthouse. It’s a space that echoes with power, every inch designed to intimidate and impress, but right now it’s just the backdrop to the labyrinth of my thoughts.I pour us both a drink, the clink of the ice against the crystal a sharp note in the stillness. Ha
AnyaThe gentle brush of dawn does little to disturb the tranquility of Bastien’s penthouse bedroom, but my consciousness stirs, riding the soft tide of awareness. I’m cocooned in warmth, an embrace that’s both protective and possessive, and I dare not move for fear of breaking the spell.I lie still, afraid to disrupt the peace that’s settled over me—a peace I’m utterly undeserving of.His breath is a steady rhythm against the nape of my neck, a reminder of the storm we weathered together, of the intensity that swept us up and refused to let go. Bastien, the man whose demons dance too closely to mine, holds me as if I’m the anchor in his world.Yet, as the first rays of morning light begin to filter through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the room, the reality of my deceit weighs heavily on my chest, crushing the remnants of last night’s abandon.I am living a lie.I should get up, put distance between us, build the walls that will protect him from the truth — protect him fr
BastienThe quiet hum of activity outside my office door contrasts sharply with the storm brewing within its confines. I sit behind my desk, the sprawling city skyline beyond acting as a silent witness to the thousands of thoughts racing through my mind.Anya is at the switchboard, her beguiling innocence and the shadow of guilt in her eyes are a jarring mixture. Her focus seems to be on the wires and lights, but I can tell her mind is miles away.I watch her, noting the furrow of her brow in concentration, the way she nibbles on her lip when she’s focused. There’s an innate grace to her, present even in the mundane tasks, that has ensnared me completely. But that grace is laced with a secret, one she clings to with hands trembling under the weight of her guilt.It’s been a week since we’ve started this thing between us, but something feels … off.I pick up my phone, the sleek device a lifeline to another who understands the burden of birthright—Niko. When he answers, the gravel in hi
AnyaThe silence of the penthouse feels heavier than usual, the echo of Bastien’s absence palpable in every corner. I wander aimlessly from room to room, my steps quieter without his presence. The vibrancy of our sanctuary has dimmed, and I’m left to navigate the shadowy hush on my own.I try to fill my time with books, with music, anything to drown out the stillness, but it’s no use. The melodies fall flat, the words blend into a meaningless blur. Restlessness takes hold, urging me back to the switchboard, back to some semblance of normalcy.As I settle into the familiar chair, the switchboard before me feels like a lifeline, a connection to the outside world, to life. I don the headset, the soft hum of the line a comforting sound. Calls trickle in, mundane inquiries and requests that I handle with practiced ease. It’s during one of these calls that it happens.And then it happens.The line crackles, and then a voice—deep and unmistakable—speaks in Russian. My blood runs cold, my bod
BastienI pull up to Niko’s sprawling estate, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the grounds. As I step out of the car, my boots crunch on the gravel, and I take a deep breath, bracing myself for the night ahead. There’s work to be done, plans to be made, and a sense of urgency that has settled deep in my bones.I enter the house, the familiar scent of aged wood and history greeting me. There’s an undercurrent of tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the stakes at play. I make my way through the hallways, my steps measured, my senses alert.As soon as I get outside to the back garden, I see Niko’s wife sitting with a few other women I’m guessing are the Gamma brides. I’m actually quite taken aback at how content they all look, given that they’re all here because of arranged marriages. I walk out to greet them and see the surprise on their faces as they see me. Their eyes flit from me to behind me and when I turn around, I see my brother.“I was w