Chapter 2

Serena's POV

The gathering was already loud when we walked in. Soft lights, low music, the usual mix of mutual friends and people who had watched my public breakup unfold in real time. Cassian stood near the far window with a drink in his hand. His new girlfriend was beside him. Several heads turned the second Nikolai’s hand settled at the small of my back.

He didn’t hesitate. His palm stayed warm and steady against the fabric of my dress as he guided me forward.

“Easy,” he murmured near my ear, voice low enough that only I could hear. “I’ve got you.”

The words were quiet. Possessive. They slid under my skin before I could stop them.

A mutual friend, Claire, reached us first. Her eyes flicked from my face to Nikolai’s hand and back again.

“Serena. You look… good.” Her smile was too bright. “And Nikolai. I didn’t realize you two—”

“We’re together,” Nikolai said, smooth and certain. His fingers pressed a fraction firmer against my back. “Have been for a little while.”

Claire’s eyebrows lifted. “Well. That was fast.”

“Timing felt right,” I said. The line we had practiced came out steadier than I expected.

Nikolai’s thumb brushed once along my spine. The touch was light, almost casual, yet every nerve in my body noticed.

We moved deeper into the room. People watched. Whispers followed. Cassian’s gaze tracked us from across the space. Nikolai never looked in that direction, but he shifted so that his body stayed between me and every stare, including Cassian’s.

Another friend, Marcus, clapped Nikolai on the shoulder.

“Didn’t see this coming,” Marcus said. “You two always seemed like… just friends.”

Nikolai’s arm slid around my waist, drawing me closer against his side. “Things change.”

The quiet endearment came next, so soft I almost missed it.

“You’re doing fine, baby.”

The word landed low and intimate. My pulse jumped. I kept my expression calm for the audience.

We circulated. Nikolai never left my side. When someone asked about the breakup, he answered first.

“She’s with me now,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters.”

Possessive. Unsettlingly easy. His hand found the back of my neck once, fingers resting there while he spoke to someone else. The contact was public and deliberate.

Cassian eventually crossed toward us. His new girlfriend stayed behind.

“Serena,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Nikolai’s arm tightened around my waist. He didn’t step back.

“Cassian,” I answered. My voice stayed even.

Cassian’s eyes moved to Nikolai. “You two are… together.”

“We are,” Nikolai said. No explanation. No softness. Just fact.

Cassian looked at me again. “Glad you’re doing okay.”

“I am,” I said.

Nikolai’s fingers brushed the side of my hip, a small claim that stayed visible. Cassian’s jaw tightened. He nodded once and walked away.

Later, near the drinks table, I overheard two women I barely knew.

“She moved on fast. With Nikolai of all people. Look at the way he’s holding her.”

Nikolai’s hand slid lower on my waist at that exact moment, fingers curling just enough to make the claim sharper and impossible to miss. He didn’t acknowledge the comment. He simply kept me close.

The relief of being claimed in public was sharp and almost dizzying. No one looked at me with pity anymore. They looked at us. And underneath it, the private awareness hit hard once: the claim felt real.

When we finally left, the night air felt cooler. The hallway outside the venue was quiet and dimly lit. Nikolai’s hand stayed at the small of my back as we walked toward the exit.

Neither of us spoke at first. The performance still clung to the space between us. His shoulder brushed mine. I didn’t step away. He didn’t either.

We stopped near the end of the hall. He turned toward me. The look in his eyes was the same charged one from the car the night before, heavier than the arrangement should allow.

My back met the wall. His hand came up, not quite touching my face, hovering close enough that I felt the warmth of his palm.

“Serena—”

Footsteps sounded around the corner. Voices. Approaching.

We froze. Inches apart. Breathing hard. That moment hung between us, unfinished and electric. Nikolai stepped back first, just enough. I straightened. Neither of us said a word about what had nearly happened.

Claire and Marcus appeared a second later, laughing about something. They waved. We waved back. The moment broke.

The drive to my apartment was quiet. Inside, the door clicked shut behind us. The performance didn’t fully drop. Nikolai still stood closer than he used to. His eyes still tracked me the way they had in the crowded room—watchful, claiming, as if the audience hadn’t left.

I set my bag down. He stayed near the entrance, hands in his pockets.

“You handled it well,” he said.

“You made it easy.”

The words came out softer than I intended. Being publicly his had felt like safety and something far more dangerous at the same time.

He took a step closer. The space between us stayed charged. Neither of us reached for the other. Neither of us mentioned the hallway.

My phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced at the screen. A group message about the weekend.

Nikolai’s phone lit up a second later with the same thread. He read it, then looked at me.

“Plans changed,” he said. “The beach house the group rented—two rooms—fell through last minute. Only one bedroom left. They’re asking if we still want to come.”

The apartment felt smaller. The rule we had set the night before sat heavy between us. One bedroom. An entire weekend. An audience that

already believed we were real.

I met his eyes. The same charged quiet from the hallway was still there.