Chapter Text
“Divorce granted.”
The gavel came down with a sharp, definitive crack that echoed through the nearly empty courtroom like the final toll of a bell. Alina, soon to be Starkov again, felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rise in her throat, but she swallowed it down, keeping her face as a mask of composure.
That was it. Done. Finished. Erased.
The marriage that had been a slow poison for the last five years was officially dissolved, papers stamped, and lives finally untangled. Her ex-husband, whose name she didn’t want to remember again as he was now nothing but a shadow of regret and resentment, sat across the aisle. His jaw was tight and the eyes she used to stare at so long and lovingly were now avoiding hers.
Good. Let him stew in his own mediocrity.
She stood, smoothing her tailored teal coat out of habit, the fabric whispering against her skin. Her heels clicked on the polished floor as she walked out, spine straight, chin high, like a woman emerging from a storm unscathed. Though, honestly, it took too long for her to reach this level of resignation, to let herself breathe freely.
The hallway outside was deserted, save for a few court clerks shuffling papers and locking doors, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow overhead.
December 31st. The very last divorce case of the year.
Of course it was hers. The universe had a twisted sense of humor. A lot of things did happen in between, but it was mostly because her ex husband kept forgetting the court dates. Hard to do that when he was hardly in a sober state anyway.
She took three steps—
—and then a hand closed around her wrist, firm and unyielding, pulling her with a force that sent her heart racing.
She barely had time to gasp before she was spun around, her back slamming against the cold marble wall of a shadowed alcove, the air whooshing out of her lungs in a rush.
A mouth she knew far too intimately crashed into hers.
Nikolai.
Her attorney.
Her friend.
Her lover in the shadows.
The kiss was raw, unbridled hunger—tongue sweeping in without preamble, teeth grazing her lower lip in a way that made her knees weaken. No hesitation, no restraint, as if the judge’s words had been the starting gun he'd been waiting for. One hand braced against the wall beside her head, caging her in, while the other slid possessively up her waist, fingers digging into the curve of her hip like he needed to anchor himself to her reality. She could taste the triumph on him, mixed with the faint bitterness of black coffee he’d sipped during the hearing.
Alina made a sound into his mouth—half laugh, half moan, all surrender—and kissed him back with equal ferocity. Her hands fisted in his crisp shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. His body pressed against hers, hard and insistent, the heat of him seeping through their clothes, reminding her of all the stolen nights they’d shared.
“Well,” he murmured against her lips, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her chest, “that went beautifully.” He barely pulled away, just enough to let his breath fan over her swollen lips while his stunning hazel eyes, darkened with desire, locked onto hers.
“You—” She kissed him again, short and breathless, nipping at his bottom lip in retaliation. “You dragged me out here like a criminal.”
“I am a lawyer,” he said smugly, his hand sliding higher, thumb brushing the underside of her breast through her blouse, sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core. “Dragging people away is half my skill set. The other half is making them beg for more.”
“Nikolai,” she breathed, her pulse thundering in her ears as his lips trailed to her jaw, then lower, to the sensitive spot just below her ear. “We’re in a courthouse.”
“Yes,” he growled softly, his teeth grazing her skin before soothing it with his tongue. “And you’re officially divorced. Felt like the appropriate place to celebrate our victory.” His free hand tangled in her dark hair, tilting her head back to give him better access, and he sucked lightly at her pulse point, drawing a soft whimper from her throat.
“Saints,” she gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders and feeling the play of muscles beneath his suit jacket. “You didn’t even wait a full minute.”
“I waited six months for this moment,” he countered, his voice husky with restrained need. “Six months of pretending I wasn’t dying to touch you like this in broad daylight. I think I’ve earned a little enthusiasm.” He pressed his hips against hers, letting her feel the hard evidence of that enthusiasm, and she arched into him instinctively, heat pooling low in her belly.
That made her laugh—low, disbelieving, laced with the kind of joy she hadn’t felt in years. Not since before her marriage had turned into a cage of indifference and arguments. Her ex had made her feel like living in hell—possessive without passion, critical without care, always making her feel like she was chasing a shadow of affection that never materialized.
But Nikolai... Nikolai had seen and accepted all of her.
They’d known each other since college, back when life was simpler: late-night study sessions in the library, shared laughs over cheap beer, him teasing her about her fierce ambition while she rolled her eyes at his endless charm. Friends, always friends, even as they drifted into their careers—her in graphic design, him climbing the ranks in corporate law. He’d been the one she called when her marriage started crumbling, the one who listened without judgment as she confessed the loneliness, the fights, the way her husband chipped away at her light until she felt dimmed.
At one point, Alina had enough. Her husband took her pride and her dignity and her hope and her money. He took and took from her until she no longer existed. That, to her, was murder.
So on one rain-soaked night, she’d shown up at Nikolai’s apartment, soaked and shattered. He’d pulled her inside, wrapped her in a blanket, poured her wine. She had intended to just talk. She didn’t expect Nikolai to offer himself to take her case, not when she knew he was more of a corporate lawyer than a family one. But that night, she realised she could trust him. So she let him take her case, where not only did he offer professional assistance, he also gave her comfort.
Comfort had turned to confession, confession to a kiss that shattered every boundary. One other night, they’d crossed the line—his hands on her skin, her name on his lips like a prayer, bodies moving together in a frenzy of need and release. It hadn’t stopped there. Sneaky didn’t even begin to cover it: hurried encounters in his office after hours, weekend “business trips” that were anything but, texts coded in stupid legal jargon that hid promises of what he’d do to her next.
Cheating? Technically, yes. But her marriage had been dead long before Nikolai reminded her what it felt like to be desired and alive. Her ex deserved no loyalty, either; he’d squandered it with his neglect and cruelty and his own affairs, Saints knew how many. Fuck him, indeed.
She cupped Nikolai’s face now, thumbs brushing over his sharp cheekbones, pulling him back to look at her. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
He stilled slightly. Pulled back just enough to search her eyes, his hand gentling on her hip. “For what?” he asked, quieter now, the playfulness giving way to something deeper.
“For taking my case,” she said. “You didn’t have to. You’re not even a divorce attorney.”
His hazel gaze softened, then sharpened with that familiar mix of affection and audacity. “Alina, I would’ve taken your case even if I’d had to set my entire career on fire. Watching that bastard try to drag this out? It was worth every ethical gray area just to see him lose.”
She snorted, but her heart swelled. “You don’t even do divorce law.”
“No,” he agreed, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her lower back, dipping dangerously close to the curve of her ass. “But I do you. Thoroughly. Repeatedly.” His voice dropped an octave, laced with memory—of her bent over his desk, of his mouth between her thighs in a hotel room, of the way she’d cried out his name in the back of his car during a “lunch break.”
She slapped his shoulder lightly, though her body betrayed her with a shiver of arousal. “You’re disgusting.”
“And effective,” he added, smirking as he captured her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles before nipping at her fingertip. “Your ex didn’t stand a chance. Not with the dirt I dug up on him—affairs of his own, financial bullshit. Hypocrite.”
“Good,” she said flatly, a spark of vindication in her eyes. “He didn’t deserve a chance. He made my life hell.”
Nikolai nodded once, his jaw tightening just a fraction—protective, angry on her behalf in a way that always made her chest ache. He’d seen the bruises, not just physical but also emotional, the way her ex’s words had left her doubting herself.
“How do you feel?” he asked, brushing his thumb under her eye, wiping away a smudge of mascara she hadn’t realised was there. “Really.”
She closed her eyes for a second, inhaled the scent of him. Clean cologne, faint starch from his shirt, underlying musk that was pure Nikolai. “Light,” she said. “Relieved. A little feral.” Her hands slid down his chest, nails scraping lightly over his tie, tugging it loose.
His mouth curved into a wicked grin. “Excellent. Feral suits you. Remember that time in the elevator at my firm? You were positively wild.”
Heat flushed her cheeks at the memory—trapped between floors after a “power outage” he’d engineered, her skirt hiked up, his fingers working magic while she bit her lip to stay quiet. “Shut up,” she muttered, but she was smiling.
“What about you, counselor?” she asked, her voice turning teasing as she pressed her palm flat against his abdomen, feeling the heat radiate through his shirt. “Happy with your one and only divorce case?”
“Ecstatic,” he said, his hand cupping her breast fully now, thumb circling her peak through the thin fabric until it hardened under his touch. She bit back a moan, glancing down the empty hallway. “Especially since the client is now legally unencumbered.”
She raised a brow, her breath hitching as he pinched lightly. “Oh?”
“Mmm,” he hummed, leaning in to capture her lips again, his other hand sliding down to grip her thigh, hitching her leg around his waist. The position ground them together intimately, and she gasped into his mouth. “Which means I can say this without violating ethics—or at least, without adding to the list.”
He kissed her again—slow this time, deep and deliberate, tongue stroking hers in a rhythm that mirrored what he’d done to her body so many times before. His hips rolled against her once, teasing, promising, and she clutched at him, nails digging in.
“You won’t be single for long,” he murmured against her lips.
She groaned, half in protest, half in agreement. “Don’t start.”
“I’m serious,” he continued, entirely unrepentant, his hand slipping under her skirt now, fingers tracing the edge of her stockings before inching higher. “I’m going to marry you, Alina.”
She laughed breathlessly, tipping her head back against the wall as his fingers found the lace of her panties, stroking lightly over the damp fabric. “Nikolai, I just got divorced.”
“Yes,” he said cheerfully, his touch growing bolder, circling her core with expert precision that made her hips buck. “And your next marriage—ours—won’t ever go near divorce. I’ll make sure you’re too satisfied to even think about it.”
“You’re impossible,” she panted, her hand fumbling for his belt, but he caught her wrist, pinning it above her head with a grin.
“We can get married tomorrow,” he added thoughtfully, his fingers slipping inside her panties now, finding her wet and ready. She moaned softly, biting her lip as he teased her entrance. “Or next week. I’m flexible. But tonight? Tonight, we celebrate properly. My place. No more hiding.”
She froze for a moment, then met his gaze, her body trembling under his touch. Because she wasn’t denying it. She didn’t want to. “I wouldn’t even mind,” she whispered, her voice breaking on a gasp as he slid a finger inside her, curling it just right.
His eyes darkened instantly, pupils blown wide. “Say that again.”
She smiled, soft and dangerous, rocking against his hand. “I said… I wouldn’t mind. Being yours. For real.”
Something in him snapped—in the best way possible. He withdrew his hand abruptly, only to crush his mouth to hers, devouring her with a kiss that left them both breathless. His body pressed her harder against the wall, grinding against her in a promise of what was to come. “Saints,” he groaned. “I fucking love you.”
Outside, somewhere far below in the city square, the people were already preparing for the last day of the year and the first day of next year. She could hear cheers rising and fireworks testing in the distance.
Alina pulled back just long enough to whisper, “Happy New Year, Nikolai.”
His forehead rested against hers, his smile slow and devastating. “Oh,” he said, voice laced with heat and love. “I have a feeling it’s going to be the best one yet.”