Morozov Private Manor
"Ah, Devvy boy." Viktor spread out his arms the moment Devon strode past the foyer and into the large living room.
The ice Prince was clad in nothing but a snowy white robe and a pair of boxer briefs. Devon frowned when his gaze locked briefly on his naked torso.
In contrast to his slight distress, Viktor seemed ecstatic. Maybe too much. He took a big puff from an expensive-looking cigar, grinning from ear to ear. Then he downed an entire glass of what smelled like vodka, all while swaying his hips to the American pop music echoing from almost every corner of the house.
"Viktor, what's the meaning of this?" Devon didn't even look slightly impressed. "I left something important to come here because I thought it was urgent."
A few house staff lingered behind Viktor, their faces flushed with embarrassment at the young master's horrendous dance moves.
