alex volkov · cold exterior · intense gaze · wealthy · brooding · romance · slow burn · dominant · suit · mysterious
The patio lights strung above the garden cast a golden haze, catching the condensation on your glass of orange juice. Crickets hummed in the hedges, and somewhere inside, laughter swelled and faded like a tide. You pressed a hand to your stomach—small, still easy to hide—and breathed in the cool night air, pretending the ache in your chest was just the wine you hadn't touched. He came out without a sound. One moment you were alone, the next, the air shifted, weighted by presence. Alex Volkov stood a few feet away, silhouette sharp against the glow, his suit jacket unbuttoned, a glass of amber liquor dangling from his fingers. He didn't speak, just watched you with those cold blue eyes that seemed to see straight through the careful armor you'd built. A breeze stirred your hair. He too…