He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his shoulders hunched as if trying to shield himself from the sheer magnetism of the Alpha sitting inches away.

Maksim let out a long, weary sigh. 

He looked around the vast, silent hall of his mansion, the shadows of the forest dancing on the glass walls. 

He didn't move away; instead, he stayed anchored to the edge of the sofa, his presence a steady heat against Kit’s side.

"I’m sorry," Maksim said, the words quiet but firm.

Kit’s head whipped back toward him, shock written across his flushed face. The Great Maksim Sokolov didn't apologize, at least that's what he thought. Not to the press, not to the government, and certainly not to "defective" dancer from the slums.

"I am sorry for treating you like a doll that day," Maksim continued, his eyes locked onto Kit’s with a sincerity that was almost painful. "After we had sex... I was only trying to clean you up. You were mess from everything we did, your body was covered in my scent and musk, and I knew you had to be aching. You had passed out from the exhaustion of my rut, and I thought... I thought taking care of you while you slept was the right thing to do."

Kit bit his lip, his mind flashing back to waking up in that pristine hotel bed, feeling scrubbed clean and clinical, which had only made him feel more like an object.

"And the letter," Maksim added, his voice dropping an octave. "The note telling you to stay put and wait for me until I returned from my meeting... I had no right to demand your time like that. If I made you feel like a toy or a possession to be shelved until I was ready to play, then I am truly sorry, Kit Holloway."

The use of his full name made Kit’s stomach do a slow, dizzying flip. It wasn't "Persichek" or "Peaches" It was him.

Kit let out a long, shaky breath, finally uncurling his arms just enough to rest his hands on the silk cushions. 

He looked at Maksim, really looked at him, searching for any sign of the cold, calculating billionaire who had tried to buy him with money just a few days ago.

"Wow," Kit murmured, a ghost of his usual smirk returning. "A real apology. I honestly didn't think the 'Refrigerator' model came with that software update. I figured you were just programmed for Dominant and we'll more glowering Dominance."

He shifted, sitting up straighter and trying to reclaim some of the power in the room, even if he was currently wearing oversized house slippers in a mansion that cost more than a small country.

"Okay, look. Let's do this," Kit said, his voice regaining its edge. "Because for some reason, it feels like if I just keep saying no, you’re going to keep haunting my very precious time. So, I’m going to be clear: I am not taking your offer to be your boyfriend. Not now, not ever."

Maksim’s eyes remained unreadable, but a slight tension returned to his jaw. 

He didn't interrupt; he just waited, his gaze heavy and focused.

"I can’t be your boyfriend, Sokolov. We’re from really different worlds," Kit continued, gesturing vaguely at the high-end art on the walls. "You're the trillionare that runs the system that tells you who your perfect match is, and I'm the one that very system deemed to be Defective. It wouldn't work and I can bet on my life it would never work. But..."

Kit paused, his face heating up again, though he pushed through the embarrassment. "I won't lie. You were the one to pop my cherry. You took my virginity, and even if it was a literal thirty-round marathon of madness, it... it wasn't bad. Actually, it was more than not bad."

He looked Maksim dead in the eye, his defiance flaring. "I don't like Alphas. I’m sure you’ve gathered that much by now. But ever since that night we had sex, I’ve realized something annoying. I want to do it again. I want that feeling, but I don't want some random, stupid Alpha touching or entering me."

Kit leaned forward, closing the gap between them until he could smell the Ozon again.

"So, here is the deal: I will be your Physical Exclusive, We can be Friends With Benefits. When I’m not working, if the urge hits, I come to you or you come to me. A debt of the body, but no hearts involved. No strings, no romance, and no 'dating.' It’s a clean transaction of heat. You either take that, or you get nothing at all. Because I can never be your boyfriend for a zillion obvious reasons."

Maksim stared at him, the silence in the room stretching until the only sound was the crackle of the logs in the fireplace. He looked at Kit’s flushed face, his bruised knuckles, and the fierce, flickering light in his eyes.

"A physical exclusive," Maksim repeated, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling hum. He reached out, finally letting his fingers brush against the side of Kit’s neck, his thumb resting just beneath the jawline. "No hearts. Just skin."

"Exactly," Kit whispered, his pulse jumping under Maksim’s touch.

Maksim’s lips curved into a dignified, dangerous smirk as he shifted closer, his presence expanding until Kit was practically swallowed by the scent of ozone and the plush fur of the sofa.

"Very well, Persichek," Maksim murmured, his voice a low vibration. "As stubborn as I know you to be, I doubt you’ll change your mind for now. I’ll take the deal—as long as it means I can be closer to you."

He leaned in, his eyes darkening as they tracked the movement of Kit's lips. 

But just as he was inches away from claimining them, Kit’s slender, manicured finger pressed firmly against Maksim’s mouth.

"Hold on, Refrigerator. There conditions," Kit said, his voice regaining its sharp, defensive edge. "Since it’s 'no strings attached,' that means we’re both allowed to see other people. We can do whatever we want with whoever we want. And whoever wants to end this first has every right to walk away. It’s a contract. Do you accept, or is your ego too big to share?"

Maksim let out a slow, controlled sigh, his gaze never leaving Kit’s. He didn't like the "other people" clause—every possessive Alpha instinct he possessed screamed against it—but if it was the only way to keep Kit in his orbit, he would go along with it.

"As long as you are not rejecting me or avoiding me like the last few times," Maksim conceded, his voice dropping an octave. "I accept."

He leaned in again, his hand moving to cup the back of Kit’s head, but once more, that same finger blocked his path.

"What now, Persichek?" Maksim asked, a hint of genuine frustration coloring his tone.

"Wait! You want us to do it now?" Kit squeaked, his eyes wide.

"Yes," Maksim replied simply. "Is there a problem? I accepted your conditions. What do you want now—"

"Nothing! Just that... Jihoon is home all alone," Kit blurted out, searching for any excuse to slow his racing heart. "I’m sure he misses me. We always eat dinner together. I should really get going and—"

Maksim started to protest, but the sharp, rhythmic vibration of his phone on the marble coffee table cut him off. 

He glanced at the screen, saw the caller ID, and let out a sharp, annoyed huff. 

He sat back on the sofa, putting a small amount of distance between them as he answered.

"Zachem ty zvonish', Dmitriy?" (Why are you calling, Dmitry?) Maksim barked in Russian.

Dmitry’s voice was loud enough for Kit to hear the frantic, upbeat energy through the speaker even if he understood zero of it. 

"Kak dela s tvoim malen'kim naglecom?" (How’s it going with your little brat?)

"Ya preryvayu zvonok," (I'm cutting the call,) Maksim snapped, his eyes flicking to Kit.

"Oko, oko! Ne kipyatitsya!" (Okay, okay! Don't boil over!) Dmitry laughed. "I'm with your brat’s friend. He told me to call you and tell you that if you hurt an inch on him, he’ll kill your entire bloodline. We're currently at a club because he didn't want to go back home alone. He told me to let your little brat know that he’s okay and he’ll be waiting for him tomorrow."

Suddenly, the phone was muffled by a bit of noise before Jihoon’s voice—sounding distinctly tipsy and very loud—echoed into the room.

"Baby! Kit! If that iceberg does anything to you, I'll... I'll melt him!" Jihoon yelled. "But if not... take care of each other just for tonight, okay? I’m having just a bit of a drink! See you tomorrow!"

The call disconnected with a sharp Beep.

The silence that followed was heavy. 

Kit stared at the phone, his last excuse—the worried best friend—having just vanished into the Moscow night. He felt the weight of the sofa shift as Maksim set the phone aside and leaned back in.

Maksim placed one large, warm hand on the sofa right next to Kit’s hip, effectively pinning him in place. 

A dark, victorious smirk played on his lips as he looked at the "defective" dancer who was now completely out of exits.

"Tvoy drug skazal mne pozabotit'sya o tebe," Maksim whispered, his breath ghosting over Kit’s ear. (Your friend told me to take care of you.)

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a gravelly, inescapable hum.

Kit’s face deepened into a shade of crimson that rivaled the embers in the fireplace. 

His heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, and the way Maksim was looking at him—like he was the only thing in the room worth seeing—was making it impossible to breathe.

Maksim let out a low, melodic chuckle, the sound vibrating through the sofa cushions. "I never thought that with how much you curse and insult, you’d be getting shy on me, Persichek."

"Who told you I’m shy? and freaking speak English!" Kit snapped, though the effect was ruined by the way his voice cracked. "I’m not shy. I’m... I’m calculating. There’s a difference."

"Is that so?" Maksim murmured. "Then I’ll continue the calculation for you."

He slid his hand from Kit’s hip, his fingers grazing the drawstring of Kit's trousers, beginning to tug at the knot. 

The contact was electric, but the suddenness of it made Kit flare up. He bolted upright, putting his hands on Maksim’s broad shoulders and shoving the Alpha back onto the sofa with a surprised. THUD

Maksim blinked, his white hair falling over his forehead as he stared up at Kit. 

He didn't look angry; he looked genuinely confused. He sat back, running a hand through his hair as he looked down. "Just tell me if you don’t want to do it, Kit. I'll take you back home or we can just sleep."

"No! It’s—it’s not that!" Kit blurted out, waving his hands frantically. "I... I think I want to shower first. I’ve got alleyway grime and... and that Alpha’s scent all over me. I’m not doing anything until I feel like a human being again."

Maksim’s expression softened, a ghost of a smirk returning. "Then you should have said so."

He stood up in one fluid motion. "I know you won't allow me to carry you, so let’s go upstairs." 

"Of course I won't allow you to freaking carry me!" Kit huffed, trailing behind the Alpha's massive frame. "I told you, stop treating me like a doll. I have legs. They work."

When they reached the master bedroom, Kit actually stopped in the doorway, his jaw dropping. 

The room was a cathedral of crystal and light. 

"Jeez, Sokolov," Kit muttered, eyeing the sheer scale of the place. "How many people do you sleep with in here? A thousand? This room alone is the size of my entire apartment building, it's almost ridiculously disgustingly luxurious."

Maksim ignored the jab, leading him toward a set of heavy, frosted glass doors. "Everything you need is in there. Fresh towels, silk robes, and the temperature is voice-controlled. Take your time." He closed the door leaving kit alone.

"Jeez, Holloway, get it together," Kit whispered to his reflection, which looked frantic under the soft, flattering lights. "It’s just a mansion. A very freaking luxurious mansion that looks like it’s worth Billions. Oh, right.. I see why they own the Compatibility System. This family is basically 21st-century royalty."

✦ ✦ ✦

Twenty Minutes Later

Twenty minutes later, Kit emerged from the steam, smelling like Maksim’s expensive sandalwood and cedar shampoos. 

He was wrapped in a dark silk robe that was far too large, the hem dragging slightly off his shoulders and the sleeves swallowed his hands, but the fabric felt like a second skin.

Maksim was sitting on the edge of the bed, his laptop open on his knees. 

He was focused, his brow furrowed as he typed, but the moment the bathroom door clicked, his head snapped up.

His breath hitched. 

Seeing Kit in his robe, with his hair damp and his skin glowing from the heat, was a vision that hit the Alpha harder than any physical blow.

Kit coughed, shifting uncomfortably. "Mmhmhn. You’re going to drop your laptop if you keep staring like a creep."

Maksim blinked, coming back to reality with a sharp inhale. "Oh. Uh. Right." He set the laptop aside on the nightstand, clearing his throat. "I’ll... I’ll also go take a shower. Stay here."

He hurried into the bathroom, and a moment later, the sound of the water starting echoed through the suite.

"Idiot," Kit muttered, a small smile tugging at his lips. "How is he a Sokolov when he’s this easy to fluster? Is he always like this, or is it just me? Whatever. I certainly don't give a fuvk"

Kit sat on the edge of the bed, noticing a crisp white dress shirt Maksim had left out for him. 

From the bathroom, Maksim’s voice called out over the water: "You can wear the shirt. It’s likely the only thing I have that will fit you."

Kit shed the heavy robe and pulled on the shirt. It was high-thread-count cotton, cool and soft, but it reached all the way to his ankles.

"I thought I was at least a bit taller than him," Kit grumbled, sitting down with a huff.

His eyes wandered to the nightstand. The laptop was still slightly open, the screen glowing in the dim light of the room. 

Curiosity—and the fact that he had nothing better to do until the "Fridge" finished his business—won out. 

He pulled the device closer.

It was a legal document, written in formal English. Kit’s eyes widened as he scanned the header: 

"The Sokolov-Mthembu Accords: Strategic Alliance and Global System Expansion."

It was a cooperation agreement between the SOKOLOV Family of Russia and The HOUSE OF MTHEMBU, the modern reigning royalty of the South African territories. It spoke of a massive union designed to implement the Compatibility System Across the African continent and unify the global database.

Kit’s heart did a little back flip as his eyes skipped down to the latter words.

"...to solidify this intercontinental alliance, a formal union shall be established between the Sokolov heir, Maksim, and the eldest Prince of the House of Mthembu, Zane M—

Then the bathroom door creaked open. Maksim stepped out, steam billowing behind him. He was wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips.

He stopped dead when he saw Kit hovering over the screen. Of his laptop.

 "What are You Doing?”