Lahat ng Kabanata ng SAY YES TO RUIN! : Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

NIKOLAI. It’s been three days since Alexei’s office, and I haven’t seen him once. Not that I’m looking. I’m definitely not looking. Tuesday morning, I’m leading rounds with my team when I spot him—standing at the nurses’ station with Dr. Volgin, our Chief of Surgery. Both watching as I approach. Perfect. “Dr. Volkov,” Volgin calls out. “A moment?” I hand my tablet to my resident and walk over. “Chief.” “I was just telling Dr. Morozov about your transplant patient. Remarkable recovery time.” “Thank you, sir.” Alexei leans against the desk, arms crossed. “Remarkable. Though I’d argue luck played a significant role.” “Luck?” I smile. “Is that what we’re calling skill now?” Volgin’s eyebrows rise. “Gentlemen.” “Apologies, Chief,” Alexei says smoothly. “Professional disagreement. You know how it is.” “I do. Which is why I wanted to speak with you both.” Volgin glances between us. “The board is convening next month to discuss the Chief of Surgery position. They’ve asked me to o

ALEXEI.I stand alone in the conference room for five full minutes before I can move.My hands are shaking. My legs are weak. And I can still feel the phantom sensation of his fingers inside me, stroking my prostate, taking me apart systematically.I’ve never felt anything like that in my life.I clean up as best I can, fix my clothes, check my reflection in the darkened window. I look exactly the same as I did thirty minutes ago.But I’m not the same.Something fundamental just shifted.I make my way back to the gala on unsteady legs. Grab fresh champagne. Smile at board members. Pretend everything is normal.Across the room, Nikolai is talking to Chief Volgin. He catches my eye, and that smile—smug, satisfied—makes me want to kill him.Makes me want to drag him back upstairs and—And what?Let him do it again?Ask him to?Fuck.I excuse myself early, claim exhaustion from a long surgery and dive home in silence with my hands tight on the steering wheel.My apartment is dark and cold

NIKOLAI. Six days later, someone buzzes my apartment at eleven PM. I check the camera. It’s Alexei, looking wrecked in a black coat, jaw tight with what I recognize as barely controlled anger. I buzz him up. When I open the door, he stalks in without greeting. “Nice place,” he says, voice clipped. “Didn’t know cardiac surgeons made this kind of money.” “Investments. Inheritance. None of your business.” I close the door. “Why are you here?” “You know why.” “Do I?” “Don’t play games with me, Nikolai. I’m not in the mood.” “Then why are you here?” He turns to face me, and I can see the war in his eyes. Pride versus want. “Because you were right,” he says finally, the admission clearly costing him. “I can answer your question now.” “Then answer it.” “You want to know why it has to be you? Fine.” His jaw clenches. “Because you’re the only person who’s ever challenged me. The only one who doesn’t worship my family name or fear my reputation. You look at me and

JAXON.The elevator ride up is the longest ninety seconds of my life.We’re standing in a triangle, with me against the back wall, them near the doors. Nobody’s talking. The only sound is the mechanical hum of the elevator and our breathing.Sloane’s jaw is tight. Her professional mask firmly back in place, but I can see the pulse jumping in her throat. Harper looks more relaxed, but her eyes keep flicking between us like she’s waiting for someone to crack first.The elevator dings in the eighteenth floor.I lead them down the hallway, key card in hand. My suite is at the end—corner room, floor-to-ceiling windows, the kind of space the team books for me because I’m the franchise quarterback.I unlock the door and hold it open.Sloane walks in first, Harper right behind her. The door closes with a heavy click. “Nice room,” Harper says, breaking the silence. She’s walking toward the windows, taking in the view of the city lights.“Yeah,” I manage. My mouth is dry.Sloane sets her bag

MAYA.The playroom smells like leather and his cologne.I've been sitting on this bench for forty minutes, counting the seconds by my heartbeat, and I still don't have a plan for what I'm going to say when he walks through that door.I'm sorry seems inadequate when you've lied to your husband's face and he's a criminal defense attorney who makes his living catching people in lies.The silk robe he left on our bed is the expensive one—the one he bought me for our anniversary. The note tucked into the pocket was worse than if he'd yelled.Playroom. 8 PM. You know what you did.It's 8:47 now.He's making me wait because he knows waiting is worse than anything he could actually do to me. My mind has forty-seven minutes to spiral through every possible scenario, every way this could go, every method he has of taking me apart.And Elijah has a lot of methods.I should've known better than to lie to him about lunch with Rachel. Should've known he'd find out—he always finds out. The man cross