CHAPTER 4

Adrian Pov

We arrive at the Petrov penthouse, a building that stands tall and cold against the Moscow skyline. It is a display of power, of wealth, to the man who rules it all. The elevator ride up is slow. The air is still, silent. The doors open, and I am in his world.

The penthouse is all polished concrete, steel, and glass. There are no personal touches, no warmth. The guards are a silent, intimidating presence. I am led to the living room, and there he is.

Vasily Petrov stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to me. The morning light frames his broad shoulders, his dark hair, the rigid line of his spine. I stand there, frozen, waiting for him to turn. And when he does, his eyes, so cold and black, are a physical blow. There is no trace of the man I was with last night, no hint of the raw, dangerous passion.

He gestures to a chair, an ornate, uncomfortable-looking thing. “Sit.”

I shake my head. “I’ll stand.”

He looks at me for a long moment, a flicker of something, surprise? Anger? In his eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it came. He turns back to the window, his voice as flat and distant.

“Last night never happened. You were drunk. I was… in a state. It was a mistake. A moment of weakness. Nothing more.”

The words are a slap in the face. I feel a fire rise in my chest, a hot, furious need to correct him, to make him see, to make him understand.

“A mistake?” I say, my voice trembling with a rage I can't contain. “A moment of weakness? I don’t think so. I remember every second. I remember your hands. I remember your mouth. I remember the things you said. It wasn’t a mistake. It was… a moment of truth. A truth you cannot accept”

He turns to face me, and his eyes are a cold fury. “You are not a part of this world. You are a tourist, a foolish little boy playing a man’s game. The Don of the Petrov family does not have… relations… with men. Last night, I was not myself. I was high. I was not in my right mind.”

I laugh, a hollow, bitter sound. “High? Is that what you’re calling it? You think you can use a few drinks, a little bit of powder, to erase what happened? To pretend it never happened? Or are you trying to assure yourself you are not gay?” I shake my head, the rage in my heart making me brave.

“I know this is not a fairytale.You're Petrov, and I'm Volkov. We’re rivals. We're a part of a world that would destroy us if they knew the truth. My sister, she’s in love with you. She has been her whole life. You think I don't know that? I betrayed her. I betrayed my family. I betrayed everything I stand for. And you… you think you can just erase it?”

His face is filled with controlled fury, but I can see the flicker of a crack in his facade. I know I’ve hit a nerve. I know I'm getting to him.

“You think you can just tell me to forget it? A fool you can just push around? I’m Adrian Volkov. I am a part of this world. I am a part of this family. I am a part of this deal. And you… you are not going to dismiss me. You are not going to act like this was some kind of… accident. This was a choice. A choice we both made.”

He takes a step forward, and I instantly brace myself. The air crackles with a dangerous tension. The man in front of me is a Don. But I am not afraid. I am Volkov.

“Don’t you ever speak of this again,” he says, his voice a low, chilling whisper. “Not to your sister. Not to your family. Not to anyone. If I ever hear a word about this, I will ruin you. Do you understand?”

I don’t flinch. “I do,” I say, my voice as steady as a rock. I look him in the eye then I turn and walk away, my heart pounding in my chest. I have to get out of here. I have to get back to my life, to the lie I have so carefully constructed.

I get in the elevator, my legs shaking, my hands trembling. The doors close, and I am alone. The air is still, the silence a heavy, suffocating weight. And then, the doors open on the ground floor, and I see him.

Dmitri.

He is leaning against the wall, a bored expression on his face. He is dressed in a suit. He looks at me, and his eyes are assessing me. There is a hint of a smirk on his lips.

He takes a step forward, but I don’t stop. I don’t need more stress. I’ve had enough. I walk past him, my head held high, my face showing disinterest. I walk to the car that is waiting for me, and I enter inside, resting my head on the window as Vasily driver drives away.

The driver doesn't take me home. I tell him where to drop me off, I have a sister to meet up and please, I sigh deeply. He drives me to the center of the city, to a place where old and new meet. A sleek, porch tower that houses some of the most exclusive boutiques in Moscow. He pulls over and stops, turning off the engine. The car is still, silent.

"We are here Mr Volkov," he says, his voice a low, emotionless rumble. He doesn't look at me as he speaks.

I nod, opening the door and stepping out. The air is cold and brisk. I turn and watch the car drive away. I am alone, standing on a bustling sidewalk in the heart of the city, wearing a suit that feels like a costume.

I have to be the Adrian that everyone expects, the charming twin brother, the loyal son. But inside, I am a traitor, a man who has betrayed his family for a moment of forbidden passion.

I take a deep breath, push my shoulders back, and put a smile on my face.I walk into the boutique. The air is thick with the scent of expensive fabric and perfume. My sister is already there, a vision of effortless beauty in a cream-colored silk dress. She is everything that is good and pure and innocent. And I am about to ruin her life.

She sees me and her face lights up. "Adrian!" she says, her voice a song. "I've been waiting forever! You're late."

She walks over to me, her arms outstretched, and I hug her tightly, a desperate, silent prayer that she'll never know the truth. I can feel her warmth, her love, her innocent happiness, and it feels like a physical pain.

"I know, I know," I say, my voice light, a perfect imitation of the playboy brother. "I had to deal with something. Business. You know how it is."

She laughs, a sound that is as bright and clear as a bell. "I know, I know," she says, her voice a mimicry of mine. "Always so busy, my dear twin."

She takes my hand and leads me to a section of the store where the suits are displayed like works of art. "Vasily wants you to wear a midnight blue suit," she says, her voice a breathless whisper. "He says it'll bring out the color of your eyes."

The words are like a physical blow. The color of my eyes. He said that. And now, my sister is here, using the words he said to her as if they were hers. A bitter laugh threatens to escape my lips, but I swallow it down. I look at the suit, a beautiful, tailored thing in a deep, midnight blue. It is perfect. It would look perfect on me. But I can't wear it. Not from him.

"I don't know," I say, my voice a little rougher than I intended. "I think… I think I’d rather go with a classic black."

Isabella's face falls. "But Adrian... Vasily wants you in blue."

"It's my suit, Izzy," I say, a hint of steel in my voice. "And I'll wear what I want."

She looks at me, her face full of confusion, her eyes wide. "What's wrong, Adrian?" she asks, her voice soft, full of sisterly concern. "You're acting strange. Is everything okay?"

I force a smile, a perfect, practiced one. "Everything is fine, Izzy. I'm just… not feeling blue today. That's all."

She nods, her face still full of concern, but she doesn't push it. She knows my moods, my stubbornness. We look at a few more suits, but my heart isn't in it. I can't look at a piece of clothing without thinking of him, of what he said, of what he did.

We finish our shopping, and I walk her to her car. She hugs me tight. "I'm so glad we got to do this, Adrian. I've missed you."

Her words are a dagger to my heart. I hug her back, but the hug is a lie. I am not really here. And I know for a fact that this is only the beginning.