Aleksander and Betty walked back toward the edge of the Thornhill estate.
Even from a distance, they could hear Veronica completely tearing into Archie.
“You are unbelievable, Archie!” Veronica hissed, her eyes blazing with protective fury.
“She is the best thing in this entire town, and you treat her like she’s completely disposable because you’re too busy having a mid-life crisis at sixteen!”
Archie looked exhausted and entirely defeated, shrinking under her anger and not even trying to defend himself.
Aleksander stepped in smoothly.
He placed a gentle, grounding hand on Veronica’s shoulder, instantly cooling her fiery momentum.
“That’s enough, Veronica.
The point has been made.” He looked over at Archie, his dark eyes calm but carrying an absolute authority that left no room for argument.
“Just leave for tonight, Archie.
Go home.”
Archie gave a miserable, heavy nod.
He cast one last apologetic look at Betty before turning around and walking away into the dark, foggy street.
Aleksander turned back to the girls.
“Come on.
We will walk you home, Betty.”
The walk to the Cooper house was quiet but deeply comforting.
With Aleksander walking on one side and Veronica fiercely guarding the other, Betty felt safe.
By the time they reached her front porch, she was even smiling again.
After a tight hug from Veronica and a warm goodnight from Aleksander, Betty went inside, looking completely different from the heartbroken girl on the curb.
As they stepped back onto the sidewalk, Veronica looked around the quiet, empty street.
She turned to Aleksander, a curious frown on her face.
“Well, knight in shining armor, how exactly do you plan on getting all the way back to Thornhill to get your motorcycle?
Because it is a very long walk in these heels.”
Aleksander just smiled.
He brought two fingers to his lips and let out a sharp, clear whistle.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then, the low, powerful purr of a heavy engine echoed from down the street.
Around the corner, Aleksander’s matte-gray Ducati rolled into view.
Veronica watched in absolute shock as the heavy motorcycle cruised down the road perfectly straight, entirely riderless.
It slowed down smoothly, pulling up to the curb and coming to a flawless stop right by Aleksander’s side.
The kickstand automatically deployed itself with a soft, mechanical click.
Veronica stared at the empty seat, her jaw dropping.
She looked from the bike to Aleksander, her eyes wide with awe.
“How…”
“I added a custom self-driving feature to the bike’s onboard computer,” Aleksander explained casually, patting the leather seat as if he were petting a loyal horse.
“It has actually been following us from a few blocks away for a while now.”
Veronica let out a breath of pure disbelief, shaking her head as a brilliant, deeply amused smile spread across her face.
“Of course you did.
Why am I even surprised at this point?”
Aleksander picked up the spare helmet and handed it to her.
“Ready to go home?”
She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, resting her head against his back as he kicked the engine into gear.
With a powerful roar, Aleksander drove off into the night, taking her back to the Pembrooke.
The matte-gray Ducati pulled up to the curb outside the Pembrooke, the heavy engine cutting out and leaving the street cloaked in the quiet dampness of the Riverdale night.
Veronica climbed off and handed the helmet back to Aleksander.
For a long moment, neither of them said a word.
The adrenaline of the dance, the tension in the closet, and the heavy emotional exhaustion of dealing with Archie and Betty had finally caught up to them.
But as Veronica stood there looking at him in the dim streetlights, the magnetic pull between them was impossible to ignore.
Aleksander reached out, his hand gently catching the back of her neck.
He leaned in, and Veronica met him halfway.
The kiss started slow, but within seconds it deepened into a passionate, breathless French kiss.
Veronica’s hands found the lapels of his jacket, her heart racing as the heat between them flared up instantly.
But after a minute, Aleksander gently pulled back, resting his forehead against hers.
They were both breathing a little heavier, but the exhaustion of the day was pulling at them.
“It has been a very long night,” Aleksander murmured softly, his thumb lightly brushing her cheek.
“And neither of us is in the right headspace to rush this.”
Veronica let out a soft, understanding sigh, nodding in agreement.
“You’re right.
Too much drama for one day.
We have time.”
“We do,” Aleksander smiled faintly.
He stepped back, starting the bike’s engine.
“Goodnight, Veronica.”
“Goodnight, Aleksander,” she smiled, watching him tear off down the street before finally turning to head inside.
When Veronica stepped out of the private elevator and into the penthouse, the lights were dim, save for a single lamp illuminating the dining room.
Hermione Lodge was sitting at the head of the long table, swirling a glass of wine.
A knowing, highly satisfied smirk was plastered across her face.
“So,” Hermione purred, setting her glass down.
“It seems we have progressed well beyond just friends.”
Veronica rolled her eyes, immediately annoyed by her mother’s constant surveillance.
“Mom, please, I am exhausted.
Can we not do this tonight—”
“Sit down, Veronica,” Hermione interrupted, her tone instantly shifting from teasing to absolute, commanding seriousness.
“This is not gossip.
This is a serious conversation.”
Veronica paused.
Seeing the rare, unfiltered gravity in her mother’s eyes, she dropped her purse onto the sofa and walked over, pulling out a chair at the table.
Hermione folded her hands together, looking at her daughter with a sharp, assessing gaze.
“You need to understand exactly what kind of fire you are playing with.
Aleksander Morozov is not Archie Andrews.
He is not a high school boy.
He is highly intelligent, incredibly influential, and practically untouchable.”
“I know that,” Veronica defended defensively.
“Then you should also know that girls will flock to him for the rest of his life,” Hermione stated bluntly.
“In the circles of the true elite—the billionaires, the power brokers, the kings of industry—a man of his stature having multiple lovers is not an anomaly.
It is practically an expectation.
I need to give you a heads-up before you get entirely swept away.”
Veronica frowned deeply, crossing her arms.
“That is severely frowned upon, Mom.
Even in high society, a scandal like that—”
Hermione let out a cold, highly amused laugh.
“Oh, mija.
When you have unimaginable wealth, influence, and absolute power…
nothing else matters.
The rules of morality and scandal do not apply to men who own the board.”
Hermione leaned forward, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial whisper.
“Do you really think your father was entirely faithful to me in New York?”
Veronica froze, her dark eyes widening in shock.
“Dad…?”
“Of course Hiram had lovers,” Hermione revealed calmly, waving a dismissive hand.
“It is the nature of powerful men.
But it never threatened my position, and I never let it bother me.
Why?
Because your father had fertility issues.
None of those women could ever produce an heir.
They couldn’t hold their ground against me because they had no leverage.
I was the wife.
I had the power.”
Also, it helped the fact she was very business savy herself, thus Hiram saw her as partner is business.
Veronica sat back in her chair, her mind reeling from the brutal, pragmatic reality of her parents’ marriage.
“This is the world you are stepping back into, Veronica,” Hermione explained, her gaze softening just a fraction.
“If you are going to stand beside a man who holds the world in his hands, you have to be prepared to share the stage, or at the very least, defend it ruthlessly.
If you cannot stomach that reality, then you need to step back right now and look for someone simpler.”
Silence stretched across the dining room as Veronica stared at the polished wood of the table.
She thought about Aleksander—his brilliant mind, his intense eyes, the way he completely commanded every room he walked into, and the absolute safety she felt when he held her.
Veronica slowly raised her head.
The lingering shock in her eyes vanished, replaced by a dark, fiercely determined fire.
“I will not lose him,” Veronica said.
Her voice was quiet, but it carried an edge of absolute steel.
Hermione stared at her daughter for a long moment before a slow, incredibly proud smile spread across her red lips.
She reached out and patted Veronica’s hand.
“Good,” Hermione complimented softly.
“That is exactly the Lodge spirit I was looking for.”