EVYAN
Days had passed since the gala, but Sinister Krylov remained an enigma lodged firmly in Evyan's mind. No matter how much he buried himself in photoshoots and the relentless buzz of his professional life, thoughts of Sinister would resurface—his voice, the way he carried himself, and, most hauntingly, those cold, piercing gray eyes that seemed to strip away every pretense.
So, when Alex called that afternoon with the unexpected news that Krylov Industries wanted him to model for their upcoming clothing line, Evyan couldn't suppress a wry smile. Fate, it seemed, was not done with him yet.
"Krylov Industries," Evyan repeated, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Yes," Alex confirmed. "Their new clothing line—high-end, obviously. They want you as the face of the campaign. Huge money, massive visibility, but…" He paused, his tone darkening. "I can already tell you're more excited about the Krylov part than the modelling part."
"It's big," Alex continued, his voice edging into caution. "International campaign, insane exposure. But before you get too excited, let me remind you who runs Krylov Industries."
Evyan's fingers tightened around the phone. "Sinister," he said quietly, the name rolling off his tongue like a forbidden word.
"And his twin brother, Ilyin," Alex added, his tone sharpening. "You know, your brother-in-law? Kairav's husband?"
The mention of Kairav made Evyan's stomach twist. "Stepbrother," he corrected coldly.
"Stepbrother, half-brother, whatever," Alex retorted, clearly exasperated. "The point is, this gig could get messy. You're walking into a situation that's more than just business, and I can already see where your head's at."
Evyan leaned back in his chair, feigning nonchalance. "I don't know what you're talking about. It's just business, Alex."
"Business, my ass," Alex snapped.
"Ev," Alex continued, his tone shifting to one of concern, "I know you. And I know you've been acting weird ever since the gala. You're fascinated by Sinister Krylov, aren't you?"
Evyan didn't answer immediately, and the silence stretched between them.
"See?" Alex pressed. "That's what I thought. Look, Ev, I'm your manager, but I'm also your best friend, and I have to say this: Sinister Krylov is not some charming playboy you can casually flirt with or obsess over. He's dangerous, and you chasing this fascination is a bad idea. I know you like the thrill, but this? This is playing with fire. He's the kind of man who could ruin you without breaking a sweat."
"Relax," Evyan said smoothly, forcing a laugh. "It's a modelling contract, Alex. I'm not planning to get married to the man. Besides, don't you always say I thrive under pressure?"
Alex let out a sigh of exasperation. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. I'll finalize the deal and send over the details. Just… don't let your curiosity get you killed, okay?"
"Noted," Evyan replied, ending the call with a smirk.
But Alex's words lingered long after the line went dead. He knew Alex was right but he'd already made up his mind. This wasn't just a job—it was an opportunity to unravel the mystery of Sinister Krylov, and he wasn't going to let it slip away.
The following days were a blur of meetings, paperwork, and photoshoots. But his mind often wandered back to the upcoming launch party. It was the official event for the new clothing line, and Sinister was rumored to be in attendance. Evyan couldn't wait.
The night of the launch arrived, and the venue was as luxurious and imposing as one would expect from Krylov Industries. The ballroom shimmered under the light of dozens of crystal chandeliers. Music played softly in the background, but the whispers of the well-dressed guests, all polished and powerful, filled the air with an intoxicating hum of ambition and wealth. It was a familiar scene for Evyan, but tonight, it felt different.
He arrived fashionably late, slipping into the crowd with practiced ease. He was dressed in a sleek black suit that made him stand out without drawing too much attention. As he mingled, exchanging pleasantries with various people, his eyes were scanning, searching for any sign of the man who had been haunting his thoughts.
But it was another figure Evyan noticed first: Ilyin Krylov .
The CEO of Krylov Industries was strikingly similar to his twin, yet entirely distinct. Ilyin shared his brother's sharp bone structure and tall, commanding presence. But where Sinister's gray eyes were cold and unyielding, Ilyin's eyes were a vibrant green, like the first burst of spring after a long winter. They were warm, inviting, and brimming with life—a stark contrast to the cold, piercing gray of Sinister's gaze. Where Sinister's expression was perpetually guarded, Ilyin's face was animated, his easy smile lighting up the room.
Ilyin stood at the center of a group, his charisma like gravity pulling people into his orbit. He laughed easily, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, his presence a bright, magnetic force that commanded attention without effort.
For a moment, Evyan simply watched him, fascinated by how two men could look so alike yet feel so different. He was also thankful that Kairav wasn't here. The last thing he needed was his stepbrother's brooding presence ruining the night.
As if sensing Evyan's gaze, Ilyin turned and smiled. "Evyan Malhotra?" he called out, making his way over. "Our newest star!"
Evyan returned the smile, extending his hand. "Mr. Krylov. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Ilyin, please," he said, shaking Evyan's hand warmly. "We're thrilled to have you as the face of this campaign. I couldn't imagine anyone else representing it."
His words were flattering without being overly saccharine, and Evyan couldn't help but feel charmed.
"Your reputation precedes you as well," Evyan replied smoothly, though his curiosity was beginning to outweigh the pleasantries.
And then, the air shifted.
Evyan turned toward the entrance, his breath hitching as Sinister Krylov entered the room.
Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, Sinister's arrival was like the drop of a pin in a silent hall—impossible to ignore. His gray eyes scanned the crowd before landing on Ilyin. The two brothers exchanged a brief nod before Sinister began making his way over.
Evyan felt his breath hitch as Sinister approached. He was here, just as Evyan had hoped.
"Hey Sinister, this is Evyan Malhotra," Ilyin introduced with an easy smile, "the new model for our clothing line and Evyan, this is my brother and the chairman of Krylov Industries, Sinister Krylov."
Sinister's gaze flicked to Evyan, his expression unreadable. He extended a hand briefly, his grip firm but impersonal.
"Mr. Malhotra," Sinister said coolly. "Welcome to Krylov Industries."
Evyan's chest tightened. There was no recognition in Sinister's eyes, no hint that he remembered their encounter at the gala.
"Thank you," Evyan replied, his voice steady despite the disappointment coursing through him. "It's an honor to work with you both."
Sinister nodded curtly before turning back to Ilyin. "Excuse me," he said, his tone dismissive. He was gone before Evyan could say another word.
Evyan refused to let it end there. If Sinister didn't remember him, he would make him remember.
Throughout the evening, Evyan found ways to cross Sinister's path. A casual brush in passing, a lingering look, a carefully placed comment. Each time, Sinister seemed increasingly aware of him, though his expression remained cold and detached.
Finally, after yet another "coincidental" encounter, Sinister turned to him, his patience clearly wearing thin.
"What exactly are you trying to achieve, Mr. Malhotra?" Sinister asked, his voice low and edged with irritation.
Evyan smiled, undeterred by Sinister's coldness. "I just wanted to talk. Is that such a crime?"
Sinister's eyes narrowed. "You've been following me all night. What do you want?"
Evyan took a step closer, lowering his voice. "I want you to remember me."
Sinister's expression didn't change. "Should I?"
"We met at the gala," Evyan said, his tone steady. "A brief encounter, but one I haven't been able to forget. And I know you felt it too."
Sinister's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "You seem to have a vivid imagination, Mr. Malhotra."
Evyan's heart raced, but he refused to back down. "It wasn't my imagination," he said firmly. "I've been fascinated by you ever since. And I don't think I'm the only one who felt something that night."
Sinister's gaze hardened. "Fascination is a dangerous thing," he said coldly. "You'd do well to forget it."
Evyan's smile widened. "Danger doesn't scare me. I know what I want, and right now, that's you."
Sinister stared at him, his eyes sharp and calculating. "You're bold," he said finally, his tone laced with both amusement and annoyance.
"But you don't know what you're playing at," Sinister continued, his voice low and deadly. "I'm not someone you want to toy with."
Evyan tilted his head, a small, defiant smile playing on his lips. "Who said I'm toying? Maybe I know exactly what I'm doing."
Sinister's jaw tightened. "Stay out of my way, Mr. Malhotra. Consider this your first and only warning."
With that, Sinister turned and walked away, his presence fading into the crowd as effortlessly as he had entered. Evyan stood frozen for a moment, a mix of exhilaration and frustration coursing through him. He had pushed Sinister, gotten under his skin—but he hadn't broken through. Not yet.
As the party continued, Evyan tried to locate him again, but Sinister seemed to have vanished. His frustration grew with every passing minute. He couldn't understand why his head was starting to feel so heavy, his thoughts muddled. The room spun slightly as he leaned against a nearby pillar, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
Evyan decided to step outside for some fresh air, hoping the cool breeze would help clear his head. The terrace was dimly lit and quiet, a stark contrast to the opulence and noise of the ballroom. The soft glow of the city lights stretched out before him, and for a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes, savoring the silence.
But the quiet didn't last long.
"Well, well," a smooth, unfamiliar voice interrupted. "What's a gorgeous man like you doing out here all alone?"
Evyan turned, his vision slightly blurry, and saw a tall figure approaching. The man was well-dressed, his smile sharp and predatory. There was an air of arrogance about him, and Evyan immediately felt uneasy.
"Just needed some air," Evyan replied, keeping his tone polite but distant.
The man stepped closer, invading Evyan's space. "You sure that's all? You seem a little out of sorts."
Evyan tried to step back, but his legs felt unsteady. Something was wrong—he wasn't just lightheaded anymore. His limbs felt heavy, and his thoughts were slow to form. "I'm fine," he said, his voice weaker than he intended.
The man's smile widened. "Oh, I think you're far from fine. Lucky for you, I'm here to help."
Before Evyan could react, the man's hand was on his arm, gripping him tightly. Panic began to set in as the man pushed him against the railing, his intentions becoming all too clear.
"Let go of me," Evyan demanded, but his voice was shaky, his strength failing him.
The man ignored him, his hands moving to unbutton Evyan's shirt. Evyan's breaths came faster, his vision swimming. He tried to push the man away, but his body wouldn't cooperate.
"Stop… let go," he pleaded weakly, but the predator's smirk only deepened.
The sound of the party inside the building was muted, distant, as though he were slipping into a nightmare with no one to hear him. Just when his fear reached its peak, everything shifted.
The pressure on his arms vanished abruptly, followed by a thud and a muffled groan. Evyan's legs threatened to give out completely, but before he could collapse, strong arms caught him. His blurry vision made it impossible to identify who it was, and his head tilted forward, resting against a firm chest as an unfamiliar voice filled the quiet terrace.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
The voice was sharp and dangerous, the words laced with fury. It wasn't directed at him, but Evyan flinched anyway.
"Hey, man! I didn't mean anything by it," the stranger stammered, his previous arrogance replaced with fear. "He… he didn't say no—"
A sickening crack followed, and Evyan flinched again, even in his dazed state. "You're lucky I don't break more than your nose," the unfamiliar voice said, cold and cutting. "Leave. Now."
The predator didn't need to be told twice. Evyan heard hurried footsteps fading away, but he didn't have the strength to turn his head. His breathing was shallow, his limbs heavy, but the grip holding him steady was unyielding.
The figure supporting him shifted, guiding him toward the bench that lined the terrace wall. "Can you hear me?" the voice asked, quieter now but no less firm.
Evyan's lips parted to answer, but his words came out as a slurred murmur. He felt himself being gently lowered onto the bench, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered who had come to his rescue.
The strong, steady hands brushed his hair back as the voice spoke again, softer but still tense. "You're safe now. Just breathe."
Evyan tried to focus on the voice, the touch, but his head swam with dizziness. He forced his eyes open, catching a brief glimpse of his savior before darkness pulled him under. All he could make out was the faint silhouette of a man—a dark suit, broad shoulders, and the vague outline of a jaw set in grim determination.
Then everything went black.
The Morning After
Evyan's eyes fluttered open, the harsh sunlight searing into his vision as it filtered through unfamiliar curtains. His head felt like it was being crushed under the weight of a thousand anvils, the throbbing intensity making it impossible to think straight. His mouth was dry, his body aching, and a faint nausea tugged at the edges of his consciousness.
He groaned, slowly sitting up, only to be met with a wave of dizziness that made him lean back against the soft pillows. The room was unfamiliar—clean, sleek, but not his own. For a moment, panic gripped him. What happened last night? His thoughts were muddled, as if someone had taken a knife to his memory. He could remember flashes, bits and pieces—the launch party, the terrace, a man approaching him, but everything else was a blur.
Suddenly, the door to the room swung open, and Alex stormed inside. His usual calm demeanour was gone, replaced with a frantic energy that made Evyan's heart skip a beat.
"Ev!" Alex exclaimed, his voice filled with concern as he rushed over to the bed. "What the hell happened last night? Are you okay?"
Evyan's eyes met his, the weight of the previous night crashing over him in one sharp, painful realization. He felt the tears welling up before he could stop them. His body shook as the emotions of everything he'd endured caught up with him. The helplessness. The fear.
Without thinking, he threw himself into Alex's arms, his body trembling as he held onto his friend, burying his face in his chest. "Alex... I—I don't know what happened. I remember someone... someone was touching me, but I couldn't fight back. I was too dizzy, I couldn't—" His words broke off into a sob, his chest tightening with the overwhelming mix of fear and confusion.
Alex's arms tightened around him, pulling him into a reassuring embrace. "Shh, it's okay. You're safe now," Alex murmured, rubbing his back gently. "Everything's fine. Don't worry."
Evyan looked up at him, confused, his heart still racing. "But I don't understand, Alex. I was so out of it. I couldn't even fight back."
Alex sat down on the edge of the bed, his face serious. "I got a call this morning from the event staff," Alex explained, his voice lowering. "They said you passed out at the party. Someone had spiked your drink. That's why you couldn't fight him off."
Evyan's breath hitched as the weight of Alex's words hit him. His drink had been spiked. He stared at Alex in confusion. "Wait, spiked? But who—
"I don't know but if I ever get my hands on that bastard I swear I'm gonna murder him in cold blood. Apparently Mr. Krylov saved you. He also carried you to the suite, made sure you were okay."
Evyan's stomach tightened at the mention of that. "Sinister…?"
Alex nodded, his expression tense.
"But… why would he help me?" Evyan's voice was a whisper, confusion clouding his thoughts. "Why would Sinister even care?"
Alex's expression softened as he sat down beside him on the bed. "I don't know, Ev. I'm not sure what's going on between you two, but I know one thing. He could have left you there. But he didn't. He took care of it. That's what matters now."
Evyan's mind spun as he tried to make sense of the situation. Sinister Krylov had helped him. He'd protected him. Why? The question lingered in his mind, unanswered, as his thoughts raced faster than he could keep up with.
Later, Alex had insisted that Evyan rest and took him to his penthouse, far from the chaos of the night before. The penthouse was quiet, spacious, and tranquil, offering a reprieve from the emotional whirlwind that had torn through Evyan's mind. Alex made sure he was comfortable, telling him to rest as he took care of things downstairs.
But Evyan couldn't rest. The weight of everything—the party, the drugged drink, the man who had tried to hurt him, and Sinister's unexpected intervention—swirled in his head like a storm he couldn't escape.
As he lay on the sofa, trying to clear his thoughts, the events from the previous night began to resurface. The pieces started to fall into place—the fuzzy recollections of the guest suite, the faint traces of Sinister's voice, calm and steady, like he was the anchor in a storm.
Evyan squeezed his eyes shut, letting the memories come. He remembered being placed on the bed, the soft rustle of sheets as Sinister settled beside him. Sinister's cool, unwavering presence surrounded him, even though he had been too out of it to comprehend it at the time. The way Sinister had gently checked him over, his hands hovering but careful. The way his voice had been calm, even when Evyan could barely focus.
The image of Sinister, his steady hands, his cold gaze that softened just slightly as he ensured Evyan was all right, lingered in his mind like a dream he couldn't shake. Evyan had thought he was nothing but a distant figure in his life, someone who couldn't possibly care about him—but now, the memories told a different story.
Evyan exhaled slowly, his fingers gripping the edge of the sofa. Why had Sinister done this? The thought gnawed at him. Sinister wasn't a man who acted out of kindness or emotion. Yet, in this moment, he had done exactly that. He had protected Evyan when he couldn't protect himself. And that had changed everything.
Evyan closed his eyes, trying to make sense of it all, but one thing was certain—this wasn't just about fascination anymore. Something deeper had awakened within him, something he wasn't ready to face but couldn't ignore.
Sinister Krylov had saved him. And now, Evyan couldn't get him out of his mind.