Phei’s portal bloomed open in the apartment like reality had been politely informed it was no longer required in that section of the room.

The wound in reality widened without noise, silent enough to feel arrogant, its edges threaded with that impossible black-white paradox that did not flicker like magic but revolved with intent, patience and the quiet menace.

The apartment changed at once.

The afternoon warmth drew back as if slapped. The air shivered, then tightened, carrying a cold that tasted of starless distance and old iron. The curtains near the open window lifted once, then stilled, the fabric stiffening under a breeze that no longer dared move. Light inside the room dimmed, not extinguished, merely humbled, as though the sun itself had taken a respectful step backward.

A deeper cold rolled out from the portal, ancient and restrained, brushing the furniture, licking the walls, whispering over the floorboards with the grave authority of the void between stars.

Then a teenager stepped through it.

He did so casually calmly and criminally beautiful in a way that made common sense sit down, file a formal complaint, and then quietly resign.

Adriana’s eyes went wide.

Dinner plates would have been an insult; dinner plates had limits, her eyes looked like they were trying to resign from her face and apply for emergency housing elsewhere.

Her fingers tightened around Roxanne’s hand hard enough to hurt, though whether she was seeking support, confirmation, or proof she had not suffered a sudden episode while fully awake remained unclear.

The human brain was not built for a black-white wound in reality opening in a living room and delivering a godly-looking boy she had once known as the Charity Case.

Evolution had been lazy.

Typical.

Roxanne, beside her, squeezed back.

Not because she was less shocked but to bring Adriana back; she had seen enough of Phei to understand that shock was useless unless one planned to make it a hobby.

Phei’s eyes found Melissa immediately.

She stood by the open window, black hair moving softly in the afternoon wind, one hand still resting over her stomach in that unconscious, protective gesture she had not stopped making for hours.

For one dangerous second, all her earlier pacing, all her rehearsed words, all her questions about how to tell him, how he would react, what face he would make, what joy would break through him, nearly vanished under the sheer relief of seeing him.

Phei smiled and opened his arms.

"No welcome?" he asked. "After so many hours without seeing me, darling?"

Melissa moved, rushed, technically. But Melissa could rush with such elegance that the word became embarrassed of itself. Grace should have been her fourth name if she had not already carried names heavy enough to make genealogies behave respectfully.

She crossed the room in a sweep of black hair, soft fabric and barely contained joy, and entered his arms as if the space had belonged to her long before the portal arrived.

Phei caught her and held her close.

Melissa’s eyes closed for a moment.

The child beneath her hand remained her secret for just this moment.

Phei’s arms tightened around her, and his face softened with the kind of open affection that made Adriana’s thoughts stumble again. He looked down at Melissa not like a boy seeing a woman he desired, but like a man returning to a part of himself that had been missing from the room. His hand moved over her back, careful and warm, and whatever cold the portal had carried into the apartment did not touch her.

It curled around them, stopped, and withdrew like a beast trained to recognize sacred ground.

Phei lifted his gaze.

His eyes moved to Roxanne and paused:

"Ms. Adriana?"

Both women wore surprise, though for entirely different reasons.

Roxanne’s surprise had questions in it. Many questions that started with how and escalated into how exactly and then into the more spiritually exhausted category of how is this my life now.

Adriana’s surprise was simpler.

Her mind had stopped at: ’That is Phei?’

Because yes, she had seen him yesterday in the interview. Yes, she had seen him on social media. Yes, she had watched clips, images, edits, comments, girls screaming about him online like civilization had collectively misplaced its dignity.

But cameras had lied by failing.

They had captured his face but they had not captured him:

’Gods, the real Phei is something else.’

Roxanne stepped forward before Adriana could even breathe properly. She walked into Phei’s arms with Melissa still there, and Phei welcomed her easily, one arm shifting to bring her close too. He held both women against him like it was the most natural arrangement in the world.

Adriana’s brain quietly froze.

They had spent hours together. Hours.

Roxanne and Melissa had forgotten to mention this?

They had discussed worry, joy, pregnancy, family, Phei, what Melissa would say, how he would react, and somehow skipped the tiny, insignificant detail that Roxanne was also involved with him? People forgot keys.

People forgot appointments but not forget to mention they now shared romantic entanglement with a godly teenager who opened cosmic wounds in the living room.

Humanity’s standards were collapsing again. How very on brand.

"Ms. Adriana," Phei finally said, warmth entering his voice. "What a surprise seeing you here."

Melissa and Roxanne both felt the dance before the first step finished forming.

They knew that tone. Smooth. Polite. Dangerous and playful enough to look harmless to witnesses with poor survival instincts.

Melissa and Roxanne began to step out of his arms, but Phei caught them by their waists and pulled them back against him.

"Where are you two going?"

Melissa arched one brow. "You have a guest."

"I have two women I missed."

Roxanne’s breath caught faintly; Phei kissed Melissa first, soft and lingering, then turned and kissed Roxanne with the same unhurried affection, as if the room, the portal, Adriana’s scandalized mind and the general laws of restraint could all wait their turn.

Adriana watched and jealousy struck her with such clean force that it was almost humiliating.

Forget the first months. Even after they had just met, her husband had never showered her with anything like that...

’Not this attentiveness. Not this unashamed affection. Not those strong hands at the waist, this immediate concern, this warmth that reached first and questioned later... and Melissa and Roxanne a fine to share that?! I would hoard all that for myself!’

Her husband had touched her like obligation, when he touched her at all; which had stopped years ago.

Phei touched like he noticed, like he could not help responding to the women in his arms as if their comfort mattered before anything else.

And Adriana’s mind, traitor that it was, would not stop asking the same question:

’What would it feel like if those hands were on me?’

If it were her waist he pulled back against him. If it were her spine his palm slid over, slow and certain, claiming the curve as though it had always belonged there. If it were her mouth he kissed first — soft, lingering, unhurried — while the other woman waited her turn and the entire room held its breath.

She could almost feel it.

The heat of his chest against her breasts. The solid strength of the arm locked around her. The way his fingers would press just hard enough to make her breath hitch, not rough, not demanding, simply aware. As if every small tremor in her body registered, every tiny shift of weight, every helpless clench of muscle. As if he would notice the exact second her thighs pressed together, the exact second her pulse jumped under her skin, the exact second her body started to open for him whether she wanted it to or not.

’He would know,’ she thought, heat flooding low and shameful between her legs. ’He would feel how wet I already am. He would smell it. And he would still hold me like I was something precious instead of something already ruined by wanting him.’

Her husband had never touched her like that.

Her husband had never looked at her like the air between them mattered.

But Phei—

Phei looked at women as if their pleasure was a language he already spoke fluently, and Adriana’s body was already learning the alphabet against her will.

’How would a strong young boy like Phei even—’

Adriana cleared her throat inwardly.

’No. No, absolutely not. Wrong focus.’

A woman did not watch a teenager step through a god-made injury to reality and immediately spiral over how gently he held other women. That was irrational. Embarrassing... also deeply unfair, because apparently her mind had decided today was a public holiday for shame.

The Dragon Dominance and his aura were that strong... as long as feelings were there!

Phei looked between Melissa and Roxanne. "Are you both fine?"

Melissa smiled too quickly, the secret beneath her palm brightening behind her eyes. "We are."

Phei’s gaze narrowed slightly. "You look like you have been pacing."

Roxanne sighed. "She has been."

"Roxanne."

"What? You nearly wore a path into the floor."

Phei’s hand moved over Melissa’s waist with quiet concern. "Why?"

Melissa held his gaze, and for one second the truth almost rose.

Not yet.

"Thoughts," she said.

"That sounds suspicious."

"With me, everything is suspicious."

"Fair."

He looked at Roxanne. "And you?"

Roxanne smiled faintly. "Surviving."

"Also, suspicious."

"I have spent hours with Melissa and Adriana. Survival is an achievement."

Adriana managed to recover enough to lift her chin. "I was perfectly civil."

Roxanne gave her a look. Melissa gave her a worse one.

Adriana pretended not to see either. Mature behavior, naturally. Adults did this constantly and then wondered why children developed sarcasm.

Phei’s gaze returned to her.

And Adriana felt it.

****

A/N: Ah, how long I have been waiting to start on our Hot Rude Neighbor....