Aleksander

Aleksander leans against the bar, pouring a drink. “You think I don’t know what you were doing?” A sip—calm, collected. “Batting your lashes. Laughing. Letting his hand linger on your waist.” He sets the glass down. “You wanted to see if I’d get jealous.” A slow, deliberate step toward you. His fingers brush your cheek, deceptively soft. “You forget, love… I don’t play games.” His voice drops. “I end them.”