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ALEKS

I’m at my club, nursing a drink, my eyes scanning the crowd, but nothing grabs my interest. It’s all the same faces and bullshit.

When my phone buzzes in my pocket, I glance at the screen. It’s my son, Ioann, and I feel my usual annoyance creeping in. Kid’s a spoiled little shit.

“Yeah?” My voice is a low growl, and I make no effort to hide my irritation.

“Hey, Dad. I’m coming by your house. Need to pick up something.”

There’s a pause, and I can hear a slight hesitation in his voice. “I’m bringing someone with me.”

I scoff. “As if I give a fuck who you bring around. Just don’t drag any drama into my house.”

I hang up, sliding the phone back into my pocket. Yeah, another girl—another distraction, another piece of ass that means nothing. Fucking moron.

* * *

SIERRA

“I need to swing by my dad’s place real quick. Won’t take long.”

I glance over at Ioann from the passenger seat, trying not to let my irritation show. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding his phone, scrolling. Typical. The guy barely looks at me. And yet, here I am, tagging along again.

“Why do you always have to go there?” I ask, forcing myself to keep my tone light. But the truth is, I’m not a fan of his father. I’ve heard stories, whispers. Enough to know that Aleksander Maksimov is not the kind of man you wanna mess with.

Ioann shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Just need to grab some stuff. Relax, it’ll be quick.”

I sigh and stare out the window as we pull up to a massive gated estate.

Ioann’s always bragging about his father’s money and influence.

But honestly, the whole rich-kid thing got old real fast. Yeah, he’s handsome—tall, blond, with that clean-cut look that works for most girls.

But he doesn’t do it for me anymore. Not even close.

And the way he’s always acting like he owns the world? Please.

I know I should end things, but it’s hard when he’s the only escape I’ve got from my shitty life. From the mess that’s my family. At least with Ioann, I get a taste of how things could be—not to have to think about where our next meal will come from.

As we pull up, the tall, black forged iron gates open automatically, and I feel my nerves kick up.

The place is intimidating. Sprawling greenery surrounds a huge three-story main building that’s flanked by smaller annexes.

We park in the circular driveway; the tires crunching on the gravel.

Ioann cuts the engine, finally glancing over at me. “Just a minute.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I mumble, unbuckling my seatbelt and getting out of the car. I need to see the inside of this place.

I stay a step behind, taking in the mansion’s size. The front door is a massive, carved wood thing, and I feel completely out of place just being here. Ioann pushes open the door and disappears inside without another word.

I hang back in the grand entryway, feeling like I’m in Buckingham Palace or some shit.

Everything is spotless. The expensive-looking pieces of dark wood furniture in the foyer, the art hanging on the walls, the heavy curtains draping the floor-to-ceiling windows.

All of it is beautiful, fucking perfect, like no one even lives here.

The marble floors are gleaming, and the ceilings are so high they make my five-foot-five, two-hundred pounds self feel tiny.

I wrap my arms around myself, shifting my weight, and glance around, trying not to feel too overwhelmed.

But it’s hard when everything around me screams of money and power.

Just as I’m about to step back outside, I hear footsteps coming down the fancy marble staircase with its gold railing. And when I look up, a man who can only be Ioann’s father stands there. Aleksander Maksimov.

He’s everything Ioann isn’t—built, dark and terrifyingly handsome.

With a broad build, ruggedly handsome features, and dark hair that’s streaked with silver.

He’s wearing a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up his veiny, corded forearms. The fabric strains against his muscles, revealing intricate tattoos that climb from the backs of his hands to disappear up his sleeves.

My eyes climb up his torso, lingering on the ink at his strong neck.

And I swallow hard. Then our gazes collide, and I know nothing will ever be the same.

* * *

Aleksander

When I get home from the club, I head straight for my office. I’ve got a stack of paperwork that needs my attention—the type of business that keeps money flowing and power in check. After a while, the alarm system beeps, showing someone’s come inside the house. Must be Ioann and his little guest.

Then I hear her voice. It’s soft, with a throaty undertone. Fucking beautiful. Not the usual giggle and chatter I’m used to from my son’s crowd. Something about that voice calls to me. I step out of my office and head to the entryway, and the moment I see her… my entire world fucking stops.

She’s standing there, looking up at me, and fuck, she’s gorgeous. Thick curves that make my blood run hot, skin the color of rich mocha. Her eyes are wide and uncertain. And I can’t tear mine away. It feels like the air’s been knocked out of my lungs.

Her hair curls down her shoulders, framing a face that’s pure temptation.

Huge, almond-shaped chocolate eyes, full, plump lips I want to suck on and bite into.

Fuck me. And that body? I can tell her tits are full and ripe even under her simple t-shirt.

They’d look fucking perfect squeezed in my big hands.

In my mouth… I bite down on my bottom lip, my hands instinctively balling into fists.

Her jeans mold thick thighs and wide hips that make my cock throb.

Where the fuck did Ioann find this girl?

I clear my throat, trying to snap out of it. “You lost, sweetheart?”

Her eyes widen for a second before she shakes her head. “Uh, no. Ioann… told me to wait here, Sir.”

My dick twitches again at the sound of her voice. Her words. Sir … Fuck me.

I nod. Can’t fucking stop staring. Not what I expected—this one’s… real. Not the usual plastic, empty faces I’m used to seeing around my son. She’s also the most mouthwatering little thing I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life.

“Call me Aleksander,” I tell her.

“I’m Sierra,” she replies in that damn voice. Before adding, “nice place.”

I chuckle, inclining my head as a thank-you. Fuck, she looks good standing in my house, even all nervous and out of place. “He treating you right?” I ask in a voice that’s a barely repressed growl.

Sierra hesitates, and it’s all I need to know. Then she answers with a shrug. “Sure.”

“Sure?” I repeat, smirking darkly. “Sweetheart, either he is or he isn’t.”

She looks away but doesn’t add anything. Good, loyalty.

And of course, that’s the moment my idiot son chooses to reappear. I force myself to tear my eyes away from Sierra. “Got what you needed?”

“Yeah, dad. All set.” Ioann glances between Sierra and me, and for a second, I wonder if he can tell there’s something there. But the kid is fucking clueless, as always. “We’re heading out, pops.”

We . I grit my teeth, nodding. Hands still balled at my sides before I do something reckless, like knock my only son out so I can get my hands on his fucking gorgeous girlfriend.

Sierra gives me one last glance before she follows him to the door.

I watch her go, my eyes tracing every inch of her.

The view from the back, just as enticing as the front.

Her ass is thick, round and was fucking made for my hands, cock and tongue.

Fuck, might have to put a bullet in my own kid’s head.

* * *

SIERRA

Ioann doesn’t shut up the whole ride back.

Talking about the poker game he’s got later, complaining about his dad and how he never trusts him with business deals.

I nod, not really listening. My mind is stuck on the way Aleksander Maksimov looked at me.

Like he wasn’t staring at his son’s girlfriend, but eye-fucking a woman he wants in his bed.

That dark, hungry gaze. The way his large hands balled, making the muscles of his forearms ripple, how his strong white teeth bit into that full bottom lip… Lord.

As we pull up to my place, Ioann leans over, a smirk on his face. “You wanna come over later? Stay the night?”

I raise an eyebrow. Even if I wasn’t soaking wet for his daddy right now, there’s no way I’m letting this idiot be my first. “You know that’s not gonna happen.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “Man, you’re such a prude. No wonder this isn’t working out.”

That catches my attention. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, babe. Maybe you’re just not what I need.”

I let out a cold laugh. “Fine by me.”

He scoffs, throwing the car into drive. “Whatever. Call me when you grow up.”

I slam the door as he speeds off, watching the taillights disappear.

Anger simmers under my skin. But it’s not about stupid Ioann Maksimov.

It’s about everything in my life. My asshole parents, my poor siblings growing up with just an eighteen-year-old to take care of them.

Work, school. The constant hunger, running, tiredness…

And the way I felt back in that mansion. Hot and bothered for a man I know I can never have.