Chapter 97: 97● DMITRI KIREEV (POV)

DMITRI KIREEV

When I step into Harper’s room, determined to talk to her and understand what happened that made her give in to Viktor so much, my eyes land on Harper and Alexander standing far too close, with her pressed against the vanity, her face flushed, her breathing quick, and her eyes lifting when they meet mine. Alexander pulls away with some haste, but quickly slips back into his usual posture.

My jaw locks so hard it hurts. My hand curls on its own. I can hear the blood pounding in my ears and, for a moment, everything inside me becomes a straight line: him, close to her. She’s flushed, something was happening, and my mind goes back to the day he said that when he got close to giving in to Harper’s magnetism, I’d know — just like everyone else in this fucking mansion.

“What the fuck is this?” I ask, and not out of curiosity, because I know exactly what could have happened if I hadn’t walked into the room.

Harper opens her mouth, but I look away from her. If I keep looking at her, I’ll get even angrier, but not because of her — because of what was about to happen between her and my brother.

Alexander doesn’t rush. Of course, he doesn’t. He stands there with that neat posture, like he’s in a meeting, like I just walked into the wrong office.

His stare is cold, and that pisses me off even more, because I recognize the same control I have when I’m about to make someone bleed without staining my shirt.

“A conversation,” he says, as if it’s nothing. And there’s still cynicism in the choice of words, as if I’m the one in the wrong here. “Which you just interrupted, brother.”

The word “brother” in his mouth sounds like mockery. Like a warning, a reminder that hierarchy, inside a house where I’ve always accepted being the arm that carries things out, has the obligation to announce itself whenever it’s coming. But that’s not how it works with me, and he knows that very well, not when it comes to Harper.

I take a step forward.

“A conversation,” I repeat, my voice low and dangerous. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Alexander doesn’t move. He just looks at me with that calm that makes me want to crush him. Because he knows I’m about to explode and, even so, not a centimeter of expression crosses his face. He wants me to explode, and fuck it.

And I hate that, hate the control he has over me at any cost and under any circumstances.

“You’re the one who came in without knocking,” he points out, suggestively, as if that were the problem.

“I didn’t know there was a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door, because apparently my brother is trying to cross the line,” I growl, keeping my stare locked on his.

“Crossing the line?” Alexander repeats, arching a brow. “Have you established a list of boundaries now?”

He folds his arms across his chest, looking at me seriously, one eyebrow raised.

That makes my blood boil even more.

“You know what they are.”

He gives a half-smile that makes me want to rip it off his face with my bare hands.

“I know yours. Not hers.”

That, coming from Alexander, hits me square in the chest, stirring a wound that hasn’t even begun to heal after the conversation with Viktor. Because I’ve already seen Harper give in. I’ve seen her react. I felt it. And I thought — idiot — that space was mine. That her magnetism with me was something I had tamed first. I knew Viktor always had something; I saw it since we were kids, saw it in the way he stayed a little too close when she was still just a girl, saw it in the look he gave her when she came back. And when she gave in to Viktor… I was certain. I was certain because Viktor can’t hide it when he gets what he wants. He becomes calmer, more confident, more provocative.

I didn’t count on Alexander getting into this shit so soon.

Not now.

Not when the house is already charged.

I take another step, closing the distance even more.

“Why are you doing this?” My voice trembles with anger, but I hold it in. “Why do you think you can? Why do you think you have the right? Or is it because you want to prove some kind of bullshit?”

Alexander looks at me, serious now. No cynicism for a second.

“I’m doing it because she needs to be whole tomorrow,” he says. “And because you can’t keep your head on straight when she’s involved.”

“Don’t try to throw that on me,” I growl, glancing toward Harper just to see if she’s scared. And, to my surprise, she isn’t; her gaze only moves between the two of us.

My fingers press into my palm, holding back my agitation as I see her straighten up, a step farther from the vanity.

I blink, briefly shifting my gaze back to Alexander.

“You talk like I’m the problem,” I say quietly. “But you had your hand on her.”

“I was talking to her.”

“With your body pressed against hers.”

He shrugs, as if it’s irrelevant. “You want to argue about distance now?”

I feel my hand itching, wanting to punch something.

“I want you to stop,” I spit out. “I want you not to get close to her like that again.”

Harper draws in a sharp breath, and I know she’s about to speak — I can feel it in the air — just as she takes a step toward me, but Alexander raises a hand, and she freezes in place instantly.

“You don’t order me around,” he says, just like that. “And you don’t order her around either.”

My jaw grinds.

“No, I don’t,” I agree, and the honesty cuts through me from the inside. “But you don’t have the right to corner her like I just saw you doing. She’s not one of the little toys that you pin down whenever you feel like it.”

I know exactly what I hit in Alexander when I say that. I know why he does it; I grew up watching, listening, understanding without ever needing to ask. He likes control. He likes composure. He likes the silent reaction of someone who gives in because they chose to give in, and he knows exactly how to lead someone to that point without making it look like he forced anything. I’m not going to pretend I don’t know. And I’m not going to let Harper be pressed into that fucking mold as if she were just another one of his habits, just another way for him to relieve tension.

Harper isn’t just any woman… she’s… my weak point. My focus. The only fucking thing that cuts through everything.

Alexander doesn’t blink or change his expression. But I see his gaze harden a little, as if I’ve touched on something he doesn’t like hearing said out loud.

“You’re delusional,” he says flatly.

“I’m not,” I shoot back at once. “I saw it. I felt the atmosphere the second I walked through that door. I came in, and you pulled back.” I take another step closer, rage boiling with sick jealousy. “You pulled back because I walked in. If I hadn’t, what were you going to do?”

Alexander holds my stare with that same coldness as always, and I hate how completely in control he can look when I’m a thread away from losing mine. He opens his mouth to answer, and I already know it’s going to be one of those neat sentences that sound reasonable just because he says them calmly.

But he doesn’t get to finish.

“ENOUGH.”

Harper’s voice cuts through it, pulling our attention to her.

“Enough, enough of this shit,” she says, her voice rising sharply. “I’m not some fucking trophy for you two to fight over. Much less for you to decide for me what I should say or do.”

I try to say her name automatically, but she cuts me off first.

“No.” She points at me, and that gesture alone makes me freeze for half a second. “You are not going to make me stay quiet. You are not going to do that to me.” My blood burns because she’s talking to me like that, in front of my brother, in front of Alexander. I should be angry out of pride, but I feel something else—something stronger: respect burning alongside fear. Fear that she’ll pull away. Fear that she’ll hate me.