He was the abyss.
I was the darkness drawn to him.
Even if he refuses me, even if he pushes me away... we were never meant to be apart.
So I'll stay.
For as long as it takes.
Forever, if I have to.
~ Zarri Mathias
Alex did not stop walking until the music had faded into something distant and muffled behind them.
"Sergeyev."
Zarri dug her heels into the carpet.
Alex kept going.
"Sergeyev."
Nothing.
"Alex, I swear to God—"
He stopped.
Zarri nearly walked straight into his back. She yanked her hand free and slapped his shoulder. "What is wrong with you?"
Alex turned. "A lot."
"That was rhetorical."
"Oh."
Zarri stared at him.
For several seconds, neither spoke. They stood in one of the private corridors above the club, far enough from the main floor that the walls no longer shook with bass. Dim golden lights ran along the ceiling, casting everything in warm shadows.
Zarri folded her arms.
"Well? You dragged me away like a criminal. What for?"
"You were dancing." Alex caught his lower lip between his teeth.
Her brows pulled together. "Yes?"
His gaze travelled over her, slow and unapologetic. "In that dress."
Zarri looked down at herself. Then back at him.
"Are you having a stroke?"
Alex clicked his tongue and looked away.
That annoyed her more.
"What exactly is the problem?" She stepped closer.
"No problem."
"Then why did you kidnap me?"
"I borrowed you."
"You cannot borrow people."
"I'll return you."
"Alex."
He finally looked at her.
And something in his face made the next insult die on her tongue.
He looked tired.
Not the dramatic sort of tired people wore when they wanted sympathy.
Something heavier sat beneath his eyes, poorly hidden beneath his usual careless expression.
Zarri's arms loosened. "When did you get back?"
Alex shrugged. "This morning."
"And you came here?"
"I had business." His mouth curved faintly.
Zarri hated how relieved she felt seeing it.
She hadn't seen him in weeks. Not that she had been counting. Obviously.
She had a life.
A fashion house.
Friends.
Responsibilities.
Several people whose existence required her supervision because apparently nobody could be trusted to dress themselves.
She had absolutely not noticed that Alex Sergeyev had vanished.
And she most certainly had not checked her phone more often than usual.
That would have been pathetic.
Zarri was many things.
Pathetic was not one of them.
Mostly.
"So." She inspected one of her nails. "You disappear for weeks and come back grabbing women from behind?"
"Only you."
Her gaze lifted.
There it was. That stupid smile.
That irritating, shameless, impossible smile that always made her want to hit him. Sometimes with her mouth.
Deeply unfortunate.
"You need help."
Alex's hands settled at her waist. "I've been told."
"Professional help." Zarri leaned in slightly.
"They're scared of me." Alex laughed, but the sound came quieter than usual.
Zarri studied him. "You all right?"
Alex blinked, his expression changed immediately. "Princessa." He pressed one hand dramatically to his chest. "You care."
Her concern evaporated. "Die."
"You asked."
"I take it back."
"You can't."
"I just did."
Alex drew her closer and Zarri let him. "I meant what I said back there." His eyes searched hers. "I missed you." Only a sliver of space remained between them. "Say it back."
Zarri's lips curled. "And if I refuse?"
"Please?"
She stared at him. "Are you begging?"
Alex leaned closer.
"I can, I'm flexible." His mouth found hers, stealing whatever clever reply she had been about to give him.
Alex had imagined seeing her again more times than he cared to admit.
Usually at inconvenient moments.
In cars.
On flights.
Once while someone was threatening to kill him, which had been particularly rude because he had nearly missed the threat entirely.
He had thought about her complaining.
Her mouth.
Her temper.
The way she'd called him names angrily in spanish while blushing as though her own face had betrayed her.
He had thought seeing her again would settle whatever irritation had been crawling beneath his skin for weeks.
Instead, he had found her dancing.
Laughing.
Beautiful.
Perfectly fine without him.
And something ugly and childish had twisted inside his chest.
He hadn't liked that.
Not because he wanted her unhappy.
He just— wanted to have been missed.
Pathetic.
He could kill a man without blinking, but apparently one fashion designer failing to miss him properly was enough to destabilise an entire evening.
The kiss deepened.
Zarri's arms wrapped around him, dragging him out of whatever thoughts he had left.
She was holding on to him.
Alex's hands tightened at her waist as he pulled her closer, kissing her with all the impatience he had been pretending not to feel.
For weeks, he had wanted this.
Her.
And now that she was finally in his arms, he had no intention of thinking about anything else. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, a sharp, sudden sting that made the heat between them flare even hotter.
She pressed him deeper, Alex body a heavy, solid weight that demanded her full attention.
Alex hands were restless and possessive, one fist clenching in her hair to hold her in place while the other slid beneath her dress, his palm hot against the bare skin of her ass. He pulled her upward, forcing her to meet his intensity, his mouth moving from her lips to the hollow of her throat with a bruising pressure.
"You are a hot mess Zarri," he whispered against her skin, his voice a low, wrecked rumble.
💜~~~~~~~
The door opened, and Natalie peered into the room.
Quiet.
The mansion was silent, and the bedroom even more so.
Worse.
He wasn't there.
Natalie stepped back out and closed the door behind her. She walked down the long hallway until she reached the study.
The door stood slightly ajar.
She pushed it open.
There he was. Still buried in files.
"Damian."
He didn't look up.
Natalie frowned.
Was he really that engrossed in whatever he was doing?
She crossed the room and leaned towards him.
"Hey."
Damian finally lifted his head, removing his glasses with one hand.
"Hey. I didn't hear you come in." His expression softened slightly. "You're still awake?"
Natalie nodded and glanced at the files spread across the desk. "What's all this? You've been busy these past few days."
"Haa… it's just work." Damian reached for her and drew her closer.
"Has it really been that bad?" Natalie asked.
Damian's expression tightened.
"It wouldn't be, except Saints Group cut off our access to the western ports."
Natalie stilled. "What? Since when?"
"Earlier today. Abruptly." His jaw clenched. "I didn't even receive prior notice."
Natalie looked at him. "Is it… that important?"
"In the short term? No." Damian leaned back in his chair. "But long term is another matter. And she's always been the one in charge of it." A humourless laugh escaped him. "Hell, she was the one who set it up in the first place."
Natalie's brows drew together. "She?" a beat.
"Kashi?"
Damian nodded. Natalie went quiet.
Only for a moment. Then a light smile appeared on her face.
"We'll get past this." She placed her hand over his.
"Come to bed first. You've been working all day."
"But—"
"No buts, baby." She squeezed his hand gently. "What's done is done. We'll find a solution tomorrow. The night is long. Come and rest."
Damian hesitated, but seeing her expression, gave in. "All right, all right." He stood and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"Let's go."
Damian walked ahead. Natalie followed. At the doorway, she stopped.
Her gaze returned to the desk.
To the files.
To the problem Kashi Saints had dropped into their lives without warning.
Natalie closed the door.
Whatever Kashi was doing— she would put an end to it before it escalated.