Page 11

T he crash of a pan hitting marble and a creative string of Russian curses yanked Reuben from sleep. He caught fragments about eggs and incompetent suppliers as Nikon’s voice carried from the kitchen, followed by the angry beeping of what had to be a smoke detector.

Reuben’s lips curved despite himself. The mighty Nikon Matvei, feared mafia boss who could make hardened criminals tremble with a look, was losing a battle with breakfast.

Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows as Reuben stretched, muscles pleasantly sore from the previous night’s activities. His hand reached across the massive bed, memories flooding back; Nikon’s hands, his mouth, his everything.

The unfamiliar penthouse bedroom slowly came into focus. No sign of his clothes from last night, though a fresh set of what looked like designer loungewear was folded on a leather armchair.

Reuben grinned. Last night hadn’t been another tension-filled wet dream. The evidence was scattered across the room: Nikon’s tie draped over the armchair, Reuben’s shirt somehow hanging from an abstract sculpture that probably cost more than his student loans. His face heated at the memory of how it got there.

The bedroom itself was a study in “bachelor pad meets blood money” - all clean lines and muted grays, with touches of deep blue that matched Nikon’s eyes. Everything spoke of wealth, but nothing screamed it. Like its owner, the room held power in its restraint - each item carefully chosen, nothing needing to shout its worth.

A phone buzzed somewhere below, followed by Nikon switching to English: “He admitted it? You’re certain about this, Alexei?”

That edge in Nikon’s voice - the one that meant someone would be having a very bad day soon - cut through the domestic sounds of cooking.

Reuben sat up, wincing at the pleasant ache in his ass. His bare feet made no sound on the hardwood as he pulled on the provided clothes, soft cotton hanging loose on his frame, sliding down against his teeth-marked skin. Nikon hadn’t been gentle last night.

But neither had Reuben, for that matter.

Following the sounds into the kitchen, Reuben found Nikon simultaneously attempting French toast and conducting business on speakerphone. He’d traded last night’s suit for black slacks and a fitted white t-shirt that did nothing to hide his muscled frame. A small pile of burnt toast lay accusingly on a plate beside him, explaining the lingering smell of smoke.

“Would I call if I wasn’t?” Alexei’s voice carried over the speaker, car traffic humming in the background. “Andrey’s all but bragging about it. Claims he was protecting the family from your... how did he put it? ‘Compromised judgment.’ ” A beat. “You know I support your choices, Nikon, but perhaps moving your boy somewhere safer wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

Nikon’s shoulders tightened, the movement subtle but clear to Reuben’s eye. The spatula in his hand creaked under his grip.

“I see.” Two words that promised violence.

Reuben must have made some small sound, because Nikon’s head snapped up, those piercing eyes locking onto him. But a second later, something in Nikon’s expression softened fractionally.

“I’m almost at your place,” Alexei said over the phone, but neither Nikon nor Reuben broke their locked gaze. “We’ll discuss the rest when I arrive.”

“I want to know everything,” Nikon told his brother, never breaking eye contact with Reuben. “Every detail, Alexei. Leave nothing out.” He ended the call without waiting for a response.

The silence filled the space between them like smoke, thick with everything they weren’t saying. Last night had changed everything, crossed lines that couldn’t be uncrossed. And now, in the harsh light of morning, Reuben wasn’t sure if that was terrifying or exhilarating.

Nikon gestured to a bar stool at the kitchen island with his spatula. “Sit. Eat something.” A pause, then softer: “Please.”

That ‘please’ did funny things to Reuben’s chest.

Reuben’s bare feet made no sound on the hardwood as he made his way into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Nikon’s eyes swept over him. Looking for injuries? Checking if Reuben had overheard too much? It was hard to tell with Nikon sometimes... even for Reuben.

Reuben perched on the stool, hyper-aware of Nikon’s presence as the man slid a plate of golden French toast in front of him.

“Heard my name. Well, not my name, but ‘ your boy ’ is me, right?” Reuben kept his tone light despite the churning in his gut. “Unless you’ve got other boys stashed around the city I should know about?”

Nikon’s expression darkened. He slid around the island like a shadow, backing Reuben against the counter. One hand gripped Reuben’s hip while the other traced the line of bruises decorating his throat. “Do you think I would allow anyone else to wear my marks?”

The possessive growl in his voice sent heat pooling low in Reuben’s groin. Still. “Your marks. Your boy.” Reuben shifted. “Your choice whether to stash me somewhere ‘safer.’ Sensing a theme here.”

Nikon’s fingers tightened briefly on Reuben’s hip before releasing him. He stepped back, running a hand through his dark hair—a rare display of frustration from a man who always liked to maintain perfect control.

“You’re right.” The admission came quietly. “I’m used to... managing every minor detail.” His lips quirked. “Though you’ve never been just a minor detail, have you?”

“Pretty sure minor details don’t end up naked in the boss’s bed.” Reuben picked up his fork, needing something to do with his hands. “Or is that covered in the employee handbook?”

“There is a situation.” Nikon ignored the attempt at humor, his expression grave. “My brother, Andrey, was the one who arranged the shooting at the bank. He meant to eliminate what he sees as a vulnerability in our organization.”

The fork clattered against the marble countertop. “Me. He meant to eliminate me.”

“Yes.”

One word, delivered with deadly calm, but Reuben could see the rage simmering just beneath Nikon’s stone-faced exterior. It showed in the tight line of his jaw, the way his fingers curled against the counter’s edge.

“Eat your breakfast.” Nikon turned away, his expression shuttering closed. He moved to the coffee machine, his movements precise and controlled—too controlled. “We’ll discuss it after.”

Reuben picked up his fork again, studying the way Nikon’s shoulders had gone rigid. “You know, usually when someone makes me breakfast the morning after, they don’t plan their brother’s murder at the same time.”

The coffee machine whirred to life. “Who said anything about murder?”

“Your face did.” Reuben took a bite of French toast. It was annoyingly perfect, like almost everything else about Nikon. Reuben motioned with a finger. “Also, you’re doing that thing with your jaw.”

Nikon’s hand moved to his face before he caught himself. He shot Reuben a look that was half irritation, half something warmer. “Stop reading me.”

“Can’t help it. It’s what you keep me around for, isn’t it?” The words were uttered more bitterly than he’d intended.

In an instant, Nikon was there again, tilting Reuben’s chin up with two fingers. “Is that what you think? That last night was about business?”

Reuben tried to look away, but Nikon’s grip remained firm. “I think nothing about us has ever been simple.”

“No,” Nikon agreed, his thumb brushing Reuben’s lower lip. “But this isn’t business.” His eyes darkened. “Business doesn’t make me want to kill my brother for even thinking about hurting you.”

A shiver ran down Reuben’s spine—fear or arousal? He couldn’t tell anymore. “So now what?” Reuben forced himself to meet Nikon’s eyes. “You ship me off to some safe house until your brother calms down? Lock me away like some fairy-tale princess?”

“Now,” Nikon moved closer, bracketing Reuben between his arms, “we go to my townhouse over in Beacon. It’s secure, private, and close enough to maintain our operations.”

Our operations. Not his. Ours.

“And how many others have you kept ‘secure and private’ in this townhouse?” The question slipped out before Reuben could stop it.

Something flickered in Nikon’s eyes. “Two. Over the years, there have been two others who needed temporary protection.”

Temporary. The word sat like lead in Reuben’s stomach. He pushed the plate away, appetite gone. “Right. Of course. Temporary protection until the threat passes or they outlive their usefulness. Makes sense.” Reuben shrugged as he started to stand. “I should get to packing whatever clothes you’re letting me keep—”

Nikon’s hand shot out, gripping Reuben’s wrist. Not painfully, but firmly enough to hold him in place. “Look at me.”

Reuben kept his eyes fixed on where Nikon’s fingers circled his wrist, counting the scars that marked the older man’s knuckles.

“Reuben.” Softer now, almost gentle. “ Look at me.”

He looked up, and the raw emotion in Nikon’s typically guarded expression stole his breath.

“I love you.”

Three words, delivered with the same quiet certainty Nikon used to order executions or close million-dollar deals. Reuben’s heart stuttered in his chest.

Before he could respond, Nikon pressed two fingers against his lips. “Don’t. Don’t say it back. Not yet.” His thumb traced Reuben’s lower lip. “I want you to be sure. To know your own mind. But I needed you to understand—this isn’t temporary. You aren’t temporary.”

Reuben’s chest felt too tight, like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. Nikon’s hand moved to cup his face, and Reuben leaned into the touch before he could stop himself.

Nikon’s voice dropped to just above a whisper, rough at the edges in a way Reuben had never heard before. “My enemies watch me for signs—any crack, any weakness.” His jaw worked. “And now my brother sees what I...” He cut himself off, turning away, but his hand reached back for Reuben’s wrist, gripping it like an anchor.

The sound of Nikon’s phone, buzzing with an incoming text, broke the moment.

“Alexei,” he said, checking the message. “He’s arrived.” Nikon’s expression hardened.

Reuben’s mind raced, still processing Nikon’s declaration as the penthouse’s security system chimed. Heavy footsteps echoed from the foyer. A few moments later, Alexei appeared in the kitchen doorway, impeccably dressed in a grey suit.

“Nikon.” Alexei’s eyes flickered between Reuben’s borrowed clothes and Nikon’s protective stance. “And Reuben. I see I’m interrupting breakfast.”

“You’re interrupting more than breakfast.” Nikon’s hand settled on the small of Reuben’s back.

“As expected.” Alexei propped himself against the kitchen doorframe, hooking one thumb into his suit pocket while straightening an already perfect cuff with his other hand. His gaze flicked to the ceiling, a brief tell of annoyance in his otherwise composed expression. “Andrey’s convinced some of our street crews that the bank hit was just phase one. He’s shuffling territory assignments, making promises.” The corner of his mouth pulled down. “All without a word to any of us.”

“Recruiting?” Nikon’s fingers tensed against Reuben’s spine.

“Worse. He’s convincing them you’ve gone soft.” Alexei’s gaze shifted to Reuben. “No offense intended.”

“Because I’m the soft spot.” Reuben straightened, shrugging off Nikon’s touch. Both brothers turned to look at him. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Andrey thinks Nikon’s compromised because of me.”

“Partially.” Alexei settled onto one of the bar stools. “Though I suspect it has more to do with Andrey’s own... proclivities. He’s always been the most volatile of us.”

“You mean he’s always been a psychopath,” Reuben muttered.

“Reuben.” There was a warning in Nikon’s voice.

“What? Am I wrong?” Reuben turned to face him fully. “Your brother tried to have me killed because what—he thinks you’re getting too attached? Because God forbid you might actually care about someone?”

“It’s more complicated than that.” Alexei’s voice carried a note of sympathy. “Our world operates on very specific rules. Attachment equals vulnerability. Vulnerability equals weakness.”

“And weakness gets exploited.” Reuben’s fingers found the bruise on his collarbone—Nikon’s mark. “Yup, I got the memo.”

“Which is why,” Nikon cut in, “you’ll be moving to the townhouse today. Alexei will arrange—”

“No.”

The word hung in the air between them. Both brothers stared at him.

“No,” Reuben repeated, stronger this time. “I’m not going to hide away in some safe house while Andrey tries to tear apart everything you’ve built. I won’t be the weak link he uses against you.”

“This isn’t up for discussion.” Nikon’s voice had gone dangerously soft.

“It is.” Reuben met his gaze. “You just told me you love me. That I’m not temporary. So either you meant that, and I’m your partner in this, or you didn’t, and I’m just another asset to be protected.”

Alexei made a small sound that might have been approval. Nikon shot him a glare.

“You could die.” Nikon’s words came out rough. “If you stay visible, Andrey will try again.”

“Maybe.” Reuben stepped closer, reaching up to trace the tense line of Nikon’s jaw. “But I’m good at what I do. I can spot threats, read people’s intentions. And more importantly, I can help you track whatever Andrey’s planning through the poker rooms. Your brother’s not the only one who can play politics.”

“He’s right.” Alexei twirled his hand in the air thoughtfully. “Andrey’s men frequent the card tables. They talk. Drink. Make mistakes. And no one reads people better than your boy.”

Nikon remained silent, jaw working beneath Reuben’s fingers.

“Let me help you,” Reuben pressed. “I’m not gonna hide away.”

Something shifted in Nikon’s expression—pride warring with fear. His hand came up to cover Reuben’s, where it rested against his face.

“If you stay, you follow my security protocols. No exceptions.”

“Agreed.”

“And you will move in here.” Nikon’s grip tightened. “I need to know where you are. That you’re safe.”

Reuben shrugged, a small grin on his face. “Agreed.”

“Well,” Alexei interrupted, taking a moment to smooth his already perfect suit, “while this is all very touching, we have more immediate concerns. Andrey’s called a family meeting for tonight.”

Nikon’s expression hardened. “Where?”

“The restaurant.” Alexei’s voice held a touch of irony. “He’s insisting on neutral ground.”

Nikon went still. “Neutral ground,” he repeated, each word precise and cold.

“Oh, it gets better.” Alexei shrugged himself off the doorframe. “He specifically mentioned bringing Reuben.” His eyes met his brother’s. “Said, and I quote, ‘My future brother-in-law should be there for family discussions. ’”

A muscle quirked in Nikon’s brow.

Reuben barked out a laugh, sharp and humorless. “Right. Because nothing says ‘family discussion’ like inviting the guy you just tried to have killed to dinner.” He glanced at Nikon. “Think he’ll suggest you all share the family borscht recipe, too?”

“And Grigorii?” Nikon’s free hand had moved to rest on Reuben’s lower back - a gesture that wasn’t lost on Alexei.

“Claims ignorance of the bank incident.” Alexei shrugged. “Whether that’s truth, or a lie, remains to be seen.”

Reuben watched the silent communication pass between the brothers. Alexei’s slight head tilt. Nikon’s barely perceptible nod. Years of shared history and unspoken understanding compressed into micro-expressions.

“I’ll handle the arrangements,” Alexei said finally. He paused at the doorway. “Oh, and Nikon? Try not to kill Andrey before dinner. It would be inconvenient for the family business.”

The front door clicked shut behind Alexei, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Nikon moved to the windows, staring out at the city below, the daylight highlighting the tension in his shoulders. Reuben approached quietly, slipping his arms around Nikon’s waist from behind.

“You’re worried.”

“Always.” Nikon turned in his arms, studying him with an intensity that made Reuben’s breath catch. One hand came up to trace the line of Reuben’s throat. “You understand what you’re choosing? This life, this family—it’s not simple. Not clean.”

“Nothing about us has ever been simple.” Reuben echoed his earlier words. “Or clean. But I’m choosing it, anyway. Choosing you.”

Something dangerous flashed in Nikon’s eyes. He pulled Reuben closer, one hand tangling in his hair. “Say it again.”

“I’m choosing you.” Reuben held his gaze. “All of you. The good parts, the dangerous parts. The parts that make burnt breakfast and the parts that organize hits.”

Nikon’s grip tightened almost painfully. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple.” Reuben pressed closer, feeling Nikon’s heartbeat against his chest. “You love me. I’m choosing to stay. Everything else is just details we’ll figure out together.”

The kiss, when it came, was harsh—all teeth and possession and promise. Nikon backed him against the high-rise window, the city below spreading out beneath them like a glittering carpet. Anyone looking up could see them, but somehow, for Reuben, that only made it better.

When they broke apart, both breathing heavily, Reuben straightened, reluctantly putting space between them. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

“First, we move your things here.” Nikon’s expression shifted back to business, though his hand remained possessive on Reuben’s side. “Then we prepare for dinner with my brothers.”

“Just another family meal with the brother-in-laws,” Reuben quipped. “Should I bring wine?”