Page 85 of Ghost Ribbon

“I told you. It’s an exaggeration. I just grabbed him. It was an instinct.”

Dimitri didn’t look convinced. He crossed his arms, mirroring my posture, and leaned back against the opposite counter.

“I suggest you are careful with your instincts,” his voice dropped. “I don’t care who you kill. Break every finger that gets too close if that’s what you need. But Ilya isn’t anyone. He would never try taking anything that’s yours. You know how he reacts to that kind of violence, Alexei. He’s clingy as hell with Rei sometimes and trust me, that drives me up the fucking walls. If it was anyone else, I’d have already snapped his head off for it. But he’s Ilya. He’s family. We aren’t supposed to hurt him. So control yourself. Or the next time you do that, I’ll break your arm next.”

The threat landed exactly as he intended. Dimitri wasn’t posturing. He meant it. I could see it in the set of his shoulders, the way his fingers tapped once against his arm like he was already imagining the follow-through.

He wasn’t wrong about Ilya. The chaotic blonde idiot had his own strange code. He flirted and clung and caused problems, but he never crossed certain lines.

“Noted.”

Dimitri studied me for another few seconds, like he was checking whether I actually meant it or if I was just saying what he wanted to hear. Then he exhaled and turned back to the counter, picking up the plate of tamagoyaki again.

“Good,” he muttered.

An hour later, I stood at the front of Marco’s house, leaning against the side of my car with my arms crossed.

When Marco finally stepped out, I straightened slightly.

He wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was fixed somewhere above my head, slightly dazed, like he had spotted something rare and beautiful in the distance. He kept walking toward me in that same enchanted little trance, steps light, lips parted just slightly. It was so unlike him - the usual shy, anxious Marco who always looked down or away when he was nervous. This version of him looked… captivated.

I just watched, curious.

He finally stopped right in front of me, still not meeting my eyes. Instead, he went up on his tiptoes, hands reaching toward my hair. I felt the lightest touch as he gently pulled something free.

A flower.

A tiny bluebell, the kind Dimitri had been obsessing over in his ridiculous garden earlier. One of the rarer ones he had insisted on planting. The fucker must have seen it caught in my hair and said nothing on purpose.

Marco looked down at the little bluebell in his palm, and his eyes lit up like someone had turned on a light inside him. Pure, unguarded wonder. His lips curved into the smallest, softest smile.

Then reality seemed to hit him.

He realized he had just reached up and touched me without permission. His whole body jerked back like he had been burned. The flower stayed carefully cradled in his hand, but he took two quick steps away, cheeks already turning that familiar shade of red.

“Oh… um… hi,” he stammered. “I’m sorry… it’s just… you had something in your hair. I didn’t mean to—”

God, how is he so cute?

I reached out, caught him by the waist with one arm, and pulled him firmly against my body. He let out a tiny surprised sound as his chest bumped into mine. Before he could say another word, I leaned down and kissed him.

When I pulled back, his eyes were still a little wide, lips slightly parted.

“You can keep it,” I murmured, glancing down at the tiny bluebell still clutched carefully in his hand.

Marco stared at the flower like it was made of glass.

Then he gave me his brightest smile.

Chapter 22 - Alexei

The gala was exactly as insufferable as I remembered.

Same suffocating crowd of people who thought their money made them important. Same endless speeches about legacy and excellence. I had already endured three hours of it, smiling when expected, nodding when required, and pretending I gave a single fuck about any of it.

Dimitri, as predicted, didn’t come. He was probably buried between Rei’s legs somewhere in the mansion by now. That left me to play the responsible one. The spare heir who showed up when the actual heir couldn’t be bothered.

Boring.