100● “Depends on the way,”

100● “Depends on the way,”
HARPER PETROVSKY

Dmitri walks away toward the vehicle waiting for him, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants. I let out a long sigh, knowing Viktor’s comment, without a doubt, threw him off balance.
It always happens when Viktor decides to provoke him. He knows exactly where to strike to get a reaction from Dmitri, and judging by the satisfied look on his face, he got exactly what he wanted.
“You do that on purpose,” I say, glancing at Viktor out of the corner of my eye.
He only shrugs, unconcerned.
“Maybe.” His smile returns—that easy smile that always seems to carry a hint of irony. “But admit it, Foxy... it was worth seeing his face.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop a small laugh from slipping out. Viktor always had this way of breaking the tension, even when he was standing right in the middle of it.
“One of these days he’s going to beat you up,” I remark.
“For you? I’ll take a beating from anyone—but not before hurting them too.”
Before I can reply, I feel someone approaching from the other side.
Alexander.
He stops beside me with the same calm as always, his gaze briefly turning toward the car, where Dmitri is already leaning against it, clearly trying to pull himself together before another argument starts.
Then Alexander looks back at me.
His eyes move quickly over my overcoat, the dress visible beneath it, and then rise again to meet mine.
Nothing excessive. Just observing me cautiously.
Viktor then steps aside, making room by the door.
“Ready?” Alexander asks, lifting his arm slightly so I can take it.
For a second, I look at him.
It’s a simple gesture. Formal, even. Something any man would do when escorting a woman to the car for an important event. But coming from Alexander, nothing ever feels simply formal. There is always another layer there, some silent intention he doesn’t need to explain.
I take his arm.
The contact is brief at first, but firm enough for me to feel the controlled tension in his body. Alexander isn’t a man who wastes movement or touch. Everything about him seems measured, deliberate.
We walk toward the mansion door while Viktor moves a few steps ahead, already speaking with one of the security guards. The morning cold slips into the hall as the door opens, and for a moment, the wind lifts a few strands of my hair.
“Harper is going with me and two more security guards. You’ll go in the car in front with the guards, and another will be behind Harper and me.”
The sentence leaves Alexander’s mouth in the same tone he uses for any important operation: no room for debate, no hesitation, no need to raise his voice to be obeyed. The guard in front nods, already lifting a hand to his earpiece to relay the order.
But the first one to react isn’t him.
It’s Dmitri.
He’s a few steps away, near the car where he had been trying to pull himself together. I feel the shift in his body before I even see him turn his head. His dark gaze goes straight to Alexander, then to me, and stays there a second longer than it should. I don’t need to hear anything to know he didn’t like it—Viktor notices, too, of course. The corner of his mouth almost curls upward, as if the mere idea of Dmitri stuck in the front car is already amusing enough to fuel his entire day.
I, on the other hand, remain still for a moment.
I’m going with Alexander.
Alone with him in the back seat, surrounded by security, on the way to the Summit, after everything that happened yesterday.
The thought should make me uncomfortable. Maybe it should even make me refuse.
But I don’t refuse.
And that tells me more about myself than I’d like to admit.
I turn my head slightly to look at him.
Alexander keeps his eyes forward, as if he has just announced the most logical route in the world. Maybe, for him, it really is. Maybe it’s a strategy. Maybe it’s control. Maybe it’s both.
“When did you decide that?” I ask, without changing my tone.
Only then does he look at me.
“When I realized that if you went with either of the other two, you’d spend the entire ride dealing with something you don’t need to deal with today.”
My gaze narrows a little.
“You’re trying to keep the two of them from blowing up. That’s what it looks like. Viktor can’t control his mouth when he’s around me; Dmitri, on the other hand, is far too explosive.”
Alexander holds my gaze for a second longer before answering. He doesn’t seem offended by how directly I speak. In fact, he seems... to be assessing.
“I’m avoiding unnecessary distractions,” he says at last.
The answer is typical of him: simple, direct. But this time, I notice something different in the way he keeps his eyes on mine.
Alexander moves, guiding me toward the car, opening the door right away so I can get in. I settle into the seat, crossing my legs slowly, adjusting my overcoat over the dress as I watch him circle and get in, sitting down beside me.
“Distractions,” I repeat, looking out the window for a moment. “That’s an elegant way to describe your brothers.”
Alexander lets out a small sound through his nose—almost a laugh, but restrained. Something that has been becoming increasingly common.
“They’re useful when properly directed. Just… more useful away from you.”
I turn my face back to him.
“I know I’m a distraction; you don’t have to remind me of that every time.”
I take a deep breath, growing slightly irritated.
“You are not a distraction.”
I hold my gaze on him for a few seconds without saying another word. When Alexander leans slightly toward me, his eyes take on a darker shade than the intense blue they usually are.
It isn’t much, but the space between us shrinks enough for me to feel the shift—his distinct, woody cologne sharpening my senses. My eyes drift from his to his lips, which part just slightly. I bring my gaze back to his, lightly biting my lower lip.
“Do you really believe that?” he asks quietly.
“Believe what?” I reply, even though I know exactly what he means.
“That you’re a distraction?”
I turn my body a little more toward him, not pulling away. Maybe I should. Maybe that would be the sensible thing to do. But something in me prefers to see just how far this goes.
“You said it yourself,” I counter. “That your brothers lose focus when I’m around.”
“They do.”
“So how am I supposed not to believe it?”
He tilts his head slightly, studying my face as if searching for some specific reaction. Still, I manage to keep my heartbeat from giving me away, despite the way his gaze examines me.
“To me, you’re more than that. You carry something different, Harper. I always say you’re a distraction because they let impulse take over; the desire to keep you in their line of sight is what they crave most.”
I tilt my head slightly.
“And you don’t?”
He holds my gaze.
“I handle impulses better.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
The corner of his mouth moves again, almost imperceptibly.
“It answers enough.”
I let a faint, sideways smile appear as I lift my hand to touch his suit, brushing my fingertips along the collar.
“You asked me to act with attitude… but what if I want to act in another way?”
Alexander doesn’t pull back when my hand touches the fabric of his suit. Nor does he move any closer. He watches the gesture, his eyes dropping briefly to my fingers before returning to my face.
The distance between us shrinks a little more when I lean in without realizing it.
“Depends on the way,” he replies.
His tone remains low and controlled, but his attention is entirely on me now.