All Chapters of Fireworks In My Heart: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

His Pov:I wait at the downstairs as I didn't have the courage to go upstairs. I still couldn't forget the way she cut the call off on me or the way she talked with me. She needs to be tamed, and I fear I would do in right there and then without caring about the party if I am in the room with her.The party is important for both of us. Pathan threw the party for us, not because he's happy with us being a couple, but because he's upset, to be precise, he hates that I married her. A girl with no family background, especially with no Russian roots. It took me years to win their trust and to be the third highest most powerful member of the Bratva even after my dad being one of them.It's not that I didn't know how pathan would react. But I simply just didn't care. All I cared about was making her mine. Claiming Liana as mine, even if that meant putting everything at stake for her. All the efforts of the past 10 to 12 years. I still need the bratva, so I do need to play my role carefully.

Her Pov:Alina....His past? His love? Then why am I here?If I were just a pawn, he could’ve erased me. Instead, he kept me.My eyes cut to the devil beside me.What does he want?The weight of the unspoken question lingered between us like a ghost, suffocating and unseen. My mind swirled with possibilities, and none of them settled well in my stomach.Edward’s grip on my waist tightened further, fingers pressing into my flesh as though reminding me who I belonged to—or who owned me. I wasn’t sure which was more accurate.Before I could collect my thoughts, another voice—deep, rich, and tinged with something almost melodic—cut through the thick tension.“Well, this is a surprise.”The conversation shifted as a man stepped forward, emerging from the shadows of the gathering.He was tall, lean yet powerful, with sharp features carved in a way that seemed both regal and dangerous. Midnight-black hair fell carelessly over his forehead, a striking contrast to the ice-blue eyes that settle

Her Pov:The air in the room is thick with tension, a current I can’t escape, not even as I push through the sea of bodies in pursuit of Edward. The music pounds in my ears, the bass matching the erratic rhythm of my heartbeat. I barely register the murmured conversations and clinking of glasses around me; my focus is locked onto his broad frame as he weaves effortlessly through the crowd.He knows I’m following him. And he’s letting me.My heels click against the marble floor, my strides long and determined, but no matter how much I quicken my pace, he stays just out of reach—taunting me, luring me deeper into his game.Bastard.The moment he turns down a dimly lit corridor, my patience snaps. I quicken my pace, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. The moment I round the corner, I find him there—waiting. His back is against the wall, hands tucked into the pockets of his suit, one leg lazily crossed over the other. The golden glow of the sconces lining the corridor casts shadows

Her Pov:The game has already begun.I feel it in the air-heavy with unsaid threats and unshed blood. The kind of silence that precedes storms, the kind that hides sharp teeth behind glass smiles. I stand quietly, drink in hand, letting my eyes drift across the room, not to admire, but to hunt.If I want to break free of Edward, I'll need more than courage.I'll need power.And not just any power. I'll need someone who can rattle him-someone who can force the devil to look twice.Not many men have ever managed that. But I know that if I want even a sliver of control, I'll need to find the one who can stand tall in Edward's shadow and not flinch.I sip from my glass, letting the burn settle in my throat as I scan the room.And then-"Funny... I find you alone again."The voice coils behind me, smooth and deliberate. I turn with measured ease, eyes meeting Rafael Morozgov's.Of course.He leans against the bar like he belongs everywhere and nowhere at once. The kind of man who doesn't c

Her Pov:"After all... I'm not you."The words slip out like a prayer. Or maybe a curse.Either way, I know he hears them. Very slowly, he turns around as his cold gaze falls on me. “You are not me.” He repeats it slowly, each word falling heavier than the last as he stalks toward me with that quiet, deliberate stride that always makes my pulse stutter. Saying my breathing hitched would be an understatement. It doesn’t matter how hard I pretend to be brave—every time he closes in on me, every time his cold, dissecting gaze traps mine, something inside me curls in on itself.And now, with Rafael’s card hidden under my bra, the fear claws deeper, twisting painfully in my chest.He steps into my space until the air feels too tight to inhale. Towering over me, he studies my face with that unsettling patience of his, his gaze moving slowly, intentionally, like he’s peeling back every layer I have. His wildflower scent surrounds me, betraying how close he is, but the heat of his stare bur