Semua Bab The War Between Us: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Milena Dragovic Aria vanished into my bedroom with the kind of purpose that never meant anything good. I barely had time to register the sound of drawers opening and closing before she reappeared, arms full of fabric. “No,” I said immediately. “Yes,” she replied just as firmly. “You’re not going out dressed like you’re attending a conference… and you’re definitely not going out dressed in whatever it is you’re wearing now.” She flicked her hand towards me in an unapologetic up-and-down gesture, like she was assessing a questionable outfit on a reality show. I glanced down at myself. Comfortable leggings. Oversized hoodie. The universal uniform of someone who planned on staying home. "I look fine,” I protested weakly. “You look emotionally unavailable,” she countered. “And tonight, we’re fixing that.” I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth betrayed me. There was no winning this argument, and we both knew it. I sighed like I’d just climbed a hundred stairs and followed her

Alexander Li ChenOpenings were never about celebration. They were about inspection.My father didn’t congratulate people.He acknowledged results.And even that was a rare occasion.I stood across from his desk, hands clasped behind my back, listening as he spoke in the calm, measured tone he reserved for things that were already decided. The office was large enough to fit more than ten desks. A sitting area occupied one corner, an oversized leather sofa, two matching armchairs, and a heavy, dark vintage coffee table between them.Everything in the room was well designed.Dark wood. Leather. Clean lines.Large bookshelves arranged with precision. A massive desk with a few hidden compartments that only my father and I knew about.Yet despite all of it, there was no warmth.“The opening is tonight,” he said. “You’ll be there.”It wasn’t a question.“I’m aware,” I replied evenly. “It’s my club. I’ve overseen every detail.”He lifted his gaze, sharp and assessing, like he was weighing so

Alexander Li ChenPower always announces itself quietly.I learned that early.The men who mattered never rushed and never asked questions they did not already know the answers to. They watched first. Measured. Decided where the weight of the room truly sat before choosing how to move within it.I saw it again and again. People testing the limits of influence before deciding how to approach it. Most of them underestimated how early I learned to recognize the game.I learned it watching my father.Watching the way men leaned in when he spoke, even when his voice never rose. The way rooms shifted without him asking. Power did not need threats. It existed in certainty. In knowing you did not have to prove anything because the proof was already written in your name.That kind of authority scared people more than violence ever could.Tonight was built on that principle. The club. The guest list. The security positioned where they could see without being seen. Even the lighting was delibera

Milena DragovicI didn’t expect to see him before the gym.Which, in hindsight, was the stupidest assumption I could’ve made.I was crossing the street toward the café opposite the entrance, trying to steady myself, coffee already on my mind, when I sensed him before I saw him. That familiar awareness between my shoulders. The kind that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with attention.“Busy weekend?”His voice came from my left, low and daring.I stopped and turned slowly.Alexander stood a few feet away, dressed casually, hands in his pockets like he wasn’t deliberately blocking my path. I lifted a brow. “Is this the part where you pretend running into me was accidental?”Something flickered in his eyes. Amusement, maybe. Interest, definitely.“Depends,” he said. “Is this the part where you tell me what you were doing in my club?”There it was.Not accusation.Curiosity sharpened into challenge.“I was invited,” I replied calmly. “Is that a problem?”His gaze swept o

Milena DragovicI walked toward Rayven, still faintly confused about why he wanted to talk to me at all. He had that easy, open energy “golden retriever-coded”, as my friends would say. The kind of person who talked because silence made him curious, not uncomfortable.I could still feel Alexander’s attention on me as I crossed the mat.I glanced back.He was leaning against the ropes again, forearms resting casually, posture loose in a way that was anything but. His gaze was fixed on me, sharp and intent, the kind that made people falter if they weren’t careful.I didn’t falter.When I turned back, Rayven was watching me with a knowing smile.“You and Alexander,” he said lightly, “seem to be getting comfortable.”“That’s one way to put it,” I replied, dry.My eyes flicked back just in time to see Alexander step away, heading toward Coach with purpose, his expression already closed off.Rayven followed my gaze, then hummed softly. “You know… he doesn’t usually spar like that.”I looked