Alex Volkov

Happy birthday, Josh, he thought sarcastically as he spun the wheel of his black Aston Martin, splashing puddles through the crowded streets. What better gift than picking up your soaked sister in the middle of a downpour like some damn Uber?

The sky had exploded half an hour ago, right when Josh texted her with the location. She was taking pictures, and it got raining. "Can you pick her up?" Of course. Because Alex Volkov didn't have anything more important to do. Not like he'd been ignoring the idea of ​​seeing her for the first time for a week.

He knew little about her. Only the essentials. That she was the younger sister. That she loved photography. That Josh adored her more than any reasonable human being should adore another. And that he—Alex—was strictly forbidden from even thinking about touching her.

He saw her as soon as he turned the corner.

Standing beneath a rickety bus stop, camera hanging from her neck, soaking wet hair plastered to her face, and that damn calm aura that seemed out of place in the middle of the downpour.

"Brilliant," he murmured to himself. "A wet version of the Virgin Mary with a Canon around her neck. How poetic."

He stopped. He stayed there, watching her through the windshield, without turning down the music or turning off the engine.

He didn't move. Neither did she.

For a second, the image was ridiculous. She was standing underwater, he was dry inside a luxury car. As if they were from different worlds. Which, in a way, was true.

Finally, he lowered the window just a few centimeters, enough to let in cold air and the sound of the rain.

"Don't think I'm going to open the door for you," he thought sarcastically as he looked at her. "I'm not that kind of man. Not for you, not for anyone."

She watched him. His eyes weren't like Josh's. They were softer. More open. There was excitement in them. Curiosity. Trust.

Emotional, he thought disdainfully. Of course. He certainly seems like it. The type who cries at movies and believes people can change. My worst type.