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Twisted Emotions

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Chapter 2

...NIKOLAI...

Emotions were liabilities.

That was the first lesson my father taught me.

The second was simpler.

Never lose control.

For thirty-one years, I followed both rules flawlessly.

Until a woman in a sage-green sweater spilled champagne on me and looked at me like I was the inconvenience.

Interesting.

I stood near the back of the ballroom, whiskey untouched in my hand as guests drifted across the dance floor beneath golden chandeliers. Soft music echoed through the reception hall, blending with expensive laughter and meaningless conversation.

Normally, I would’ve left twenty minutes ago.

I hated weddings.

Too much emotion. Too much vulnerability disguised as celebration.

But Josh Chen insisted on discussing a business proposal tonight, and despite our differences, I respected his intelligence enough to tolerate the setting.

Barely.

“You’re staring.”

Alex Volkov’s voice cut through my thoughts.

I glanced sideways to find him watching me with the same cold observation he used on competitors before destroying them.

“I wasn’t aware you monitored my eyesight now,” I said dryly.

Alex ignored the comment. “Who is she?”

Across the ballroom, Sienna Vale argued with a florist near the entrance, completely unaware she’d become the center of attention between two men known for dismantling billion-dollar corporations.

She looked different from earlier.

Less composed.

A strand of dark hair had fallen loose near her face, and irritation sharpened every movement she made as she adjusted the floral arrangement herself after the florist walked away looking mildly terrified.

Efficient.

Controlling.

Beautiful.

A dangerous combination.

“The event planner,” I said.

Alex took a slow sip of his drink. “The one who assaulted you with champagne?”

“She lacks coordination.”

A pause.

Then, unexpectedly—

“She also insulted you twice in under five minutes.”

Amusement flickered briefly across his expression. “I almost admire it.”

My jaw tightened.

Most people feared me enough to avoid direct eye contact.

Sienna Vale looked at me like she wanted to win.

I didn’t know whether that was stupidity or confidence.

Possibly both.

“She talks too much,” I said.

“Yet you’re still watching her.”

Annoyance stirred beneath my calm exterior.

Alex noticed too much.

Before I could respond, Josh approached us with the exhausted expression of a man surviving his own wedding reception by sheer willpower.

“Please tell me neither of you are planning corporate murder tonight,” he said. “My wife would kill me if there’s blood on the dance floor.”

“Depends,” Alex replied mildly. “How terrible was the champagne?”

Josh laughed.

I didn’t.

His attention shifted toward me carefully, like he was trying not to provoke something. “Sienna didn’t know who you were.”

“That’s supposed to improve the situation?”

“It explains why she wasn’t terrified.”

I almost scoffed.

Fear was predictable.

Useful.

Sienna Vale possessed none of it.

And that was becoming a problem.

My gaze found her again automatically.

This time, she noticed.

Even from across the ballroom, tension sparked instantly between us.

Sharp.

Immediate.

She narrowed her eyes slightly before crossing her arms like a challenge.

A silent dare.

Something dark and unfamiliar curled low in my chest.

Mine.

The thought appeared suddenly and with enough force to irritate me.

I didn’t believe in possession.

People left. Betrayed. Disappointed.

Attachment created weakness, and weakness destroyed empires.

I learned that lesson long ago.

So why was I still looking at her?

Why did her voice linger in my head hours after a meaningless interaction?

Why did the word Piccola feel disturbingly natural on my tongue?

“You’re doing it again,” Alex said.

I dragged my attention away from Sienna. “Doing what?”

“Looking interested.”

There was no accusation in his tone.

Only observation.

Which somehow made it worse.

“I’m not interested.”

Alex’s expression remained unreadable. “Whatever helps you sleep.”

I didn’t sleep much.

Another lesson learned early.

The ballroom lights dimmed slightly as guests gathered near the center of the floor for Josh and Jules’ final dance of the night. Applause echoed softly around the room while cameras flashed.

Everyone watched the bride and groom.

Everyone except Sienna.

She stood near the edge of the ballroom checking something on her phone, brows furrowed in concentration. Working instead of celebrating.

A perfectionist.

I understood that mentality.

Then, as if sensing my gaze again, she looked up.

Our eyes met across the crowded room.

And for one impossible second—

everything else disappeared.

No music.

No guests.

No ballroom.