Page 6

C ontrol was a currency Nikon traded in more carefully than cash. Each calculated gesture, every measured word - they all formed the foundation of his authority in this room. But watching Reuben from his hidden vantage point, Nikon realized with growing unease that his grip on that control was slipping.

The scotch in his crystal tumbler had long since warmed to room temperature, untouched. Instead, his focus kept returning to Reuben’s hands as they played with the chips in front of him with an efficiency that spoke of growing confidence. Those same hands that had trembled weeks ago now moved with practiced grace.

A light tap against his office door broke his concentration. He didn’t need to turn to know it was Misha, his floor manager. The man’s reflection showed in the one-way glass.

“Duncan Gilroy is back.” Misha’s voice carried the proper note of deference. “Third night this week.”

Nikon watched as the art collector sat down in his regular spot. He gripped his glass harder when he saw how Gilroy was staring at Reuben. Those cold gray eyes studied Reuben the same way Gilroy looked at the stolen artwork he wanted to buy. Nikon hated seeing that look.

“Has he attempted contact outside the game?”

“No, sir,” Misha paused, careful with what he said next. “But he’s been asking about Reuben. He wants to know who owns him.”

A muscle worked in Nikon’s cheek. Ownership. As if Reuben were just another pretty artifact to be bought and displayed. The thought sent an unwelcome surge of anger through his chest.

After two months of watching Reuben excel at the tables, learning their operation inside and out, the suggestion that anyone else might try to claim him was especially galling. He’d invested too much time, too much trust in the man to let someone like Gilroy interfere now.

Below, Gilroy leaned forward, too close to Reuben’s space as he placed his chips. “Quite the technique you have there. Where did you learn to handle chips like that?”

Nikon gripped his glass harder, angry at what Gilroy was hinting at. But Reuben kept his face blank and his shoulders straight. “Practice makes perfect, Mr. Gilroy,” Reuben didn’t even bother to look up from his cards.

“Indeed, it does.” Gilroy’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And please, call me Duncan.”

Nikon set his glass down with more force than necessary. The sharp sound made Misha take a step back.

“Sir?”

“The next hand.” Nikon kept his voice steady despite the anger coiling in his gut. “Make sure Reuben gets kings and Gilroy gets Aces.”

“Want me to make the board tempting? Something to get him betting a big pot?”

Nikon nodded once. “Yes. I need to see how Reuben handles it.”

But as Misha left to arrange the setup, Nikon acknowledged the lie in that statement. This wasn’t about testing Reuben’s composure. This was about watching Gilroy, seeing how far the man would push once he thought he had leverage.

The hand played out exactly as arranged. Reuben’s kings fell to Gilroy’s aces, and a substantial pot moved across the table towards the art collector. Nikon found his attention fixed not on the money, but on the way Gilroy’s hand lingered on Reuben’s shoulder after the play.

“Bad beat,” Gilroy’s voice carried through the room’s acoustics. “Perhaps I could make it up to you. Over dinner, perhaps?”

Something dark and possessive unfurled in Nikon’s chest. He caught himself moving toward the door before stopping.

This was business. He needed to see how Reuben handled the situation. Needed to maintain that professional distance that had served him so well over the years.

But when Gilroy’s hand slid from Reuben’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, that resolve cracked.

Nikon stalked toward the poker table, aware of how the conversation died in his wake. Players shifted in their seats, sensing the change in atmosphere. Only Gilroy seemed oblivious - or more likely, was choosing to push certain boundaries.

“A hundred thousand dollars,” Gilroy announced as Nikon approached. “For just one night.”

The room went deadly silent.

Nikon stopped behind Reuben’s chair, close enough to feel the tension radiating from the younger man’s shoulders. When he spoke, his voice carried the quiet menace that helped build the Matvei empire.

“Mr. Gilroy.” The words fell like ice chips. “I believe we need to discuss the house rules. In private.”

Gilroy’s smile faltered at the edges, a crack in his mask. “Everything’s negotiable, Mr. Matvei. Business is business, after all.”

“Business.” Nikon let the word hang in the air, heavy with threat. His hand settled on the back of Reuben’s chair, fingers briefly brushing against the back of Reuben’s neck. The slight shiver that ran through Reuben’s body at the contact sent an answering heat through his veins. “Let me be clear about my business, Mr. Gilroy. What’s mine isn’t negotiable.”

A flash of understanding crossed Gilroy’s face, followed quickly by calculation. “My apologies. I wasn’t aware he was already... spoken for.”

Nikon should have been angry when Gilroy talked about Reuben like property. But instead, something wild inside him calmed down. He pressed his fingers harder into Reuben’s neck, letting everyone see who Reuben belonged to.

“A misunderstanding then.” Nikon’s tone suggested it had better remain that way. “Perhaps we should discuss your recent art acquisitions instead. I hear the original owners are quite... concerned about their whereabouts.”

Color drained from Gilroy’s face. He gathered his chips with hands that weren’t quite steady. “Another time, perhaps. I just remembered a prior engagement.”

The room slowly returned to its usual rhythm of conversation and play, but tension lingered in the wake of the confrontation. Reuben remained still, aware of Nikon’s hand on his neck, of the dozens of eyes tracking their every move.

“My office.” The words were for Reuben alone. “Now.”

Reuben gathered his chips with precise movements that betrayed his slight nervousness. Nikon tracked his progress to the cashier’s cage, then followed him up the private stairs to the office suite.

The private staircase stretched before them, its plush red carpet muffling their ascent. Nikon watched as Reuben’s shoulder brushed against the dark wood paneling, automatically moving aside to give him more space than necessary.

Once they were in the privacy of his office, Reuben immediately turned to face him. “ ‘What’s mine isn’t negotiable’ ?” Reuben’s voice was quiet, but carried an edge. “Is that how you see me? Something you own?”

Nikon stilled, surprised by the challenge in Reuben’s tone. “No,” his voice came out softer than he’d meant it to. “I see you as...” The words died in his throat, and he looked away, afraid of what might show on his face.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Nikon could feel his control slipping - that same control that had built his empire, that had never wavered before this moment. His hands, which had broken bones without hesitation, now hung at his sides. His jaw, which had set with iron determination before ordering executions, now worked against words he couldn’t voice.

For the first time in his life, Nikon felt vulnerable. He couldn’t handle this like one of his business deals. This was real. And that scared him more than anything.

“I didn’t encourage him-” Reuben started, but his words trailed off as Nikon’s gaze snapped back to his face. Nikon felt that familiar surge of need, stronger than any desire for more power had ever been.

“I know.” Nikon moved closer, backing Reuben against his desk. “You handled it well.”

“Then why do you look like you want to kill someone?”

The question caught Nikon off guard. Reuben’s ability to read him was becoming dangerous.

“Because,” Nikon closed the remaining distance between them, “I do.”

He expected Reuben to pull away. To show that flash of fear that had marked their early interactions. Instead, Reuben’s hands came up to grip his jacket lapels, and then warm lips pressed against his.

The kiss caught him off guard - something that hadn’t happened in years. For a moment, his carefully maintained facade cracked entirely. His hands moved to Reuben’s waist, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with an intensity that surprised them both.

They pulled apart, both catching their breath. Nikon searched Reuben’s face. “That was unexpected.”

“Was it?” Reuben’s fingers were still twisted in his suit jacket. “You’ve been hitting on me for weeks.”

“You noticed.”

“Obviously. I notice everything about you.” The admission seemed to surprise Reuben as much as it did Nikon. “It’s becoming an issue.”

Nikon should have stepped back. Instead, he leaned in again, capturing Reuben’s mouth in another kiss that held none of the hesitation of the first.

This time the kiss turned hungry, desperate. One moment Reuben’s hands were gripping Nikon’s lapels, the next they were buried in his hair, tugging him closer with a desperate low groan.

Nikon responded in kind, fingers digging into Reuben’s hips as he lifted him onto the wooden desk, the polished surface creaking under the sudden weight. His body pressed forward, stepping between Reuben’s thighs, the fabric of their clothes rubbing together like a silent promise of things to come.

The sounds of the poker room floor below were muffled, replaced by the harsh rhythm of their breaths, the rustle of clothes shifting against skin as Nikon tugged Reuben’s shirt out of his slacks.

Nikon’s hands soon found Reuben’s zipper, the metallic teeth parting with a slow, deliberate pull to reveal Reuben’s hardening shaft pressing up through the fabric of his boxers.

The moment stretched, as Nikon’s hands trailed along Reuben’s navel, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers, ready to peel away the last barrier between them and-

A knock at the door froze them both.

“Damn it.” Nikon growled the words against Reuben’s throat.

“It’s Alexei.” His brother’s voice carried clear warning through the office door. “And this can’t wait.”

Reuben jerked away first, his face flushed a deep crimson. He stumbled off the desk, fingers trembling as he adjusted his clothes, trying to hide the evidence of his arousal. He avoided Nikon’s gaze, his eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal. “I should get back to the game-” Reuben’s voice was hoarse, his words rushed.

“Stay.” Nikon made it half command, half request.

But Reuben was already moving toward the door, slipping past a surprised Alexei who’d already entered the office. It was the first time Reuben had directly disobeyed an order from Nikon, but something in his wild-eyed expression made Nikon let him go.

Alexei closed the door with deliberate care, his expression caught between amusement and concern. “Well. That was enlightening.”

“Something urgent?” Nikon straightened his tie, forcing his breathing to steady.

“Our brother, Andrey, has been talking.” Alexei settled into one of the leather chairs, watching his older brother with curious eyes. “About your ‘pretty new pet’, as he calls him.” Alexei jutted a chin at the door. “Was that him, by the way?”

Nikon ignored the question. The possessive fury that had barely cooled from earlier flared up again. “Tell your twin that he should focus on his own fucking business.”

“That’s my point, brother.” Alexei leaned forward, dropping his usual diplomatic mask. “This isn’t just about business anymore, is it? You’ve got him playing in our highest-stakes games, reading some of the most dangerous players in the world.”

Nikon moved to the bar, pouring two fingers of scotch. He needed the moment to compose himself, to push down the lingering heat from Reuben’s kisses. “Your concern is noted.”

“Is it?” Alexei accepted the offered drink but didn’t sip it. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re making yourself vulnerable. I saw the way you handled Gilroy tonight - that wasn’t subtle. And Reuben’s not just playing the games anymore, is he? I hear he’s providing intelligence on our rivals.”

“Subtlety wasn’t the point.”

“No, marking your territory was.” Alexei’s tone grew gentler. “Which is exactly what has me worried. Our enemies will notice. They already see him at the tables, playing against their representatives. If they realize how much he really observes, how much he tells you...”

Nikon’s hand tightened around his glass. The rational part of his mind knew Alexei was right. And yet...

“He reads people better than anyone I’ve seen.” The words came out more defensive than intended. “A few weeks ago, his observations about the cartel’s money flow helped us-”

“This isn’t about his value to operations.” Alexei cut him off. “This is about how you look at him when you think no one’s watching. About how you nearly broke Gilroy’s hand for touching him. About how I just found you in here, looking more affected by this guy than I’ve seen you by anything in years.”

Silence stretched between them. Nikon moved to the window, staring down at the poker room where Reuben had already returned to his seat at the high-stakes table. Even from this distance, he could see the slight tension in Reuben’s shoulders as he played against men who would kill him if they knew what he really observed during these games.

“There are better ways to integrate him,” Alexei continued. “Ways that won’t paint such an obvious target on his back. Or yours.”

“And what would you suggest?”

“Let him work with me on the more legitimate side of our businesses. His finance background could be useful there. We can still use his talent for reading people, but in boardrooms instead of poker rooms filled with our rivals.”

Nikon watched as below, Reuben called a bet from a Colombian representative, his casual posture betraying nothing of their earlier encounter. Or of the fact that he was likely cataloging every tell, every casual comment that might reveal the cartel’s current operations.

“You think I haven’t considered that?” Nikon’s reflection showed more emotion than he meant to reveal. “Moving him to safer territory?”

“I think,” Alexei stood, moving to stand beside his brother, “you’ve got one of our most valuable intelligence assets making eyes at you across poker tables. And now you’ve just claimed him in front of some of the most dangerous people in our world.”

The truth in those words stung. Below, Reuben won a significant pot, his smile perfectly calibrated - friendly enough to avoid offense, but not so friendly as to invite unwanted conversation. He’d learned that balance quickly, another reason he was so valuable.

“Just be careful, Nikon.” Alexei touched his shoulder. “Not everyone in the family will be as understanding as I am. And our enemies... if they ever realize that Reuben sees more than just their cards...” He let the warning trail off.

After Alexei left, Nikon remained at the window. His world had just shifted on its axis, all because of one unexpected kiss.

The smart move would be to pull back. To protect both himself and Reuben from the dangers Alexei had outlined. To remember that every time Reuben sat at that table, he was gathering information that could get him killed if the wrong person realized what he was really doing.

Instead, Nikon reached for his phone, typing out a message he knew he shouldn’t send:

“Next time, stay when I tell you to.”

When the quick response from Reuben showed up on the screen, something close to a smile tugged at Nikon’s lips:

“Next time, make it an offer instead of an order.”