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R euben’s back hit the wall of Nikon’s office as their kiss deepened, raw hunger crackling between them like a live wire.

The crime boss devoured him, his tongue a silken invasion that tasted of aged whiskey and sin. Those dangerous hands slid beneath Reuben’s suit jacket, fingertips tracing fire along his ribs through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Nikon kissed like he ran his empire–with devastating skill and absolute dominance. His teeth caught Reuben’s lower lip, the sharp sting soothed immediately by a hot sweep of tongue that drew a desperate groan from deep in Reuben’s throat. The sound of it seemed to break something in Nikon’s control. He pressed closer, the hard planes of his body pinning Reuben with delicious pressure.

“Damn,” Reuben gasped as Nikon’s mouth blazed a trail of heat down his neck. Those clever fingers had worked their way under his shirt now, calloused thumbs stroking bare skin in ways that made his knees almost buckle. Each touch was a claim, a promise, a threat of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

The two of them had been playing this exquisite torture for two weeks–Nikon’s hands sliding up Reuben’s inner thighs during late-night poker games until Reuben could barely focus on his cards, heated glances across the casino floor that left him hard and aching, moments stolen in dark corners where Nikon would touch him just enough to make him burn before pulling away.

Every encounter between them ended with Reuben desperate, wondering which game they were really playing.

And now, with Nikon’s impressive arousal pressing against his hip, and those wicked lips marking a path of ownership across his collarbone, Reuben wondered if today would be different.

Nikon’s hands gripped his hips harder, sure to leave marks that Reuben would feel for days. The thought only heightened Reuben’s arousal, knowing he’d carry physical reminders of this moment.

Nikon’s fingers traced the waistband of Reuben’s trousers, a teasing touch that had Reuben pushing up with a long low moan.

“That sound,” Nikon breathed against his ear, voice rough with desire. “I love making you make that sound.” His teeth grazed Reuben’s earlobe as one hand slipped between them, palming the hard length of Reuben’s arousal through his trousers. “I’ve imagined how you’d feel, taste, sound.”

The friction between them felt incredible. Reuben’s hips bucked involuntarily, his cock seeking more pressure before Nikon could pull away. Even now, Reuben could feel the moment approaching when Nikon would step back, leaving him breathless and confused. “Then do it,” he challenged, voice breaking on a gasp as Nikon’s thumb found just the right spot. “Stop imagining and fuck me.”

Nikon’s voice was rough as he abruptly broke their kiss. “The bank manager meeting is in an hour.” The words hit Reuben like a splash of cold water, though Nikon’s hands still burned where they gripped his hips.

Reuben blinked, trying to clear his mind of the haze of desire that clouded his thoughts whenever Nikon was this close. “Wait, what? The bank manager?”

He searched Nikon’s intense gaze for answers, but as always, that chiseled face revealed nothing.

Over the past few weeks, Reuben had studied every subtle shift in Nikon’s expression, every tightening of those lips or crease in his brow. He’d also come to learn the signs of Nikon’s arousal—the way his pupils blew wide, the sharp inhalations when Reuben’s fingers grazed his neck. But he still couldn’t read the deeper tells, the ones that would explain why Nikon always pulled back before they crossed that final line.

“Yes.” Nikon’s thumb brushed Reuben’s lower lip. “My brother, Alexei, needs you to handle the account setup for one of his real estate deals. You’ll be meeting her at First National downtown.”

Confusion warred with a different kind of hunger low in Reuben’s belly. Playing poker in Nikon’s underground rooms, he understood. Using his skills to read potential threats at meetings... well, that made sense, too.

But banking? That one threw him for a loop.

He pushed off the wall, needing space to think. “Why me? I’m sure Alexei has people for that kind of thing.”

The words were out before Reuben could stop them. Nikon went still, the same dangerous stillness Reuben had seen Nikon project right before issuing an order no one dared disobey. Reuben braced himself for the bite of reprimand, the sting of being reminded how quickly his circumstances could change if he stepped out of line.

Instead, Nikon’s expression softened to a touch. “You’ve more than proved your loyalty to me these past weeks.” His gaze drifted down Reuben’s body, lingering in a way that raised goose-flesh along his arms. “There’s no one else I’d trust with this.”

The husky timbre of Nikon’s voice sent a shiver through Reuben’s groin. Two could play at this game. He closed the distance between them, trailing his fingers over the crisp shirt fabric stretching across Nikon’s chest as he leaned in with a grin.

“Is that all this is?” He pitched his voice low, lips brushing Nikon’s ear. “A bank errand?”

Nikon tensed, the barest catch of his breath giving him away. Reuben smirked. So the great crime boss did have weaknesses, after all.

“Be careful.” The words rumbled from Nikon’s chest. More command than caution. His hand caught Reuben’s wrist, stilling the playful touch. “This isn’t a game.”

But wasn’t it? Everything in Reuben’s world had become a complex match of strategy and tells since that first fateful night in Nikon’s poker room. He’d learned to read the shifting alliances between dealers and regulars like hole cards, and to track the ebb and flow of power through the room like betting patterns.

And Nikon... Nikon was the most fascinating player of all.

“You’re worried.” Reuben didn’t pull his wrist free, instead letting his fingers curl against Nikon’s chest. The rapid heartbeat beneath his palm betrayed what Nikon’s stern expression tried to hide. “About a simple bank meeting?”

Nikon’s jaw tightened. That subtle tell Reuben had cataloged over countless late nights. Something about this assignment had the usually unshakeable crime boss on edge.

“Focus on the task.” Nikon released Reuben’s wrist but didn’t step back, leaving them pressed together in the narrow space between Nikon’s desk and the wall behind it. “Ms. Simmons, the bank manager, will have the paperwork ready. You just need to sign where indicated and maintain a professional demeanor.”

Professional demeanor. Right. Because that explained why Nikon’s hands were back to bracketing his hips, thumbs stroking slow circles that made any coherent thought increasingly difficult.

“And here I was planning to juggle the pens and do card tricks across her desk.” The quip earned him a sharp look, but Reuben caught the slight twitch at the corner of Nikon’s mouth. “I do know how to handle myself in legitimate business settings. Former finance major, remember?”

“I always remember everything about you.” The intensity in Nikon’s voice made Reuben’s breath catch. Those steel-blue eyes traced his features like memorizing a map. “Including how quick you are to notice details others miss.”

Heat bloomed in Reuben’s chest at the praise, even as his mind latched onto the underlying message. He was meant to watch for something during this meeting.

But what?

“Should I be looking for anything specific?” Reuben kept his tone light, curious rather than probing.

Nikon’s expression shuttered. “Just be your observant self.” His hand slid up to cup Reuben’s jaw, thumb brushing across his lower lip. “And remember who you belong to.”

The possessive gesture sent electricity down Reuben’s spine. He parted his lips, letting his tongue flick against Nikon’s thumb. Two could play at this game of control.

“Belonging implies ownership.” He met those dangerous eyes. “And ownership usually involves taking what’s yours.”

The words hung between them, heavy with weeks of unresolved tension. Nikon’s pupils dilated, darkness swallowing the blue irises. For a moment, Reuben thought he’d pushed far enough to break that iron control.

Then a moment later Nikon stepped back, straightening his already immaculate suit jacket. “The car will be waiting downstairs in forty-five minutes. Wear the grey suit I had delivered.”

And just like that, the moment shattered.

Reuben bit back a frustrated groan. “You know, most people just give flowers when they’re interested in getting into a relationship with someone.”

“I’m not most people.” The words carried an edge of danger that reminded Reuben exactly who he was dealing with. “And this isn’t that kind of relationship.”

Wasn’t it? The heated kisses, the lingering touches, the way Nikon’s gaze followed him across rooms... it all pointed to something far more complex than a simple business arrangement.

“Then what kind of relationship is it?” Reuben knew he was pushing his luck, but the words slipped out anyway. The sexual frustration was starting to make him reckless. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you can’t decide whether to fuck me or keep me at arm’s length.”

Something dangerous flashed in Nikon’s eyes. “Watch your tone.”

“Or what?” Reuben stepped closer, tilting his chin up in challenge. “You’ll punish me? Add another month to my debt? Or maybe you’ll finally follow through on one of those promises your hands keep making?”

Nikon suddenly moved faster than Reuben could track. One moment he was standing two feet away, the next his hand was wrapped around Reuben’s throat. Not squeezing, just holding—a reminder of power rather than a threat.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.” Nikon’s voice dropped to a whisper, lips brushing Reuben’s ear. “What I want to do to you?”

Reuben’s pulse jumped beneath Nikon’s fingers. “Then show me.”

Instead of answering, Nikon released him and turned toward his desk. “Get changed. The grey suit is in your office.”

Right. Because, of course, Reuben had an office now, just down the hall from Nikon’s. A perfectly respectable space where he could pretend he wasn’t essentially a hostage working off someone else’s debt through increasingly questionable means.

“Fine.” Reuben straightened his collar and fixed his shirt, trying to ignore how his skin still tingled where Nikon had touched him. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

“It is for now.”

The dismissal in Nikon’s tone stung, but Reuben refused to let it show. He’d learned that much at least—never reveal your tells, especially to someone who could read them as well as Nikon did.

The grey suit waited in Reuben’s office, exactly as promised. Cashmere wool, perfectly tailored to his measurements. Another gift from his captor-turned-whatever-the-hell-Nikon-was-now.

Reuben changed quickly, mind racing through possible reasons for this sudden banking errand.

Why send him? Why today? And why was Nikon so obviously unsettled by it?

The questions chased each other in circles as Reuben adjusted his tie in the mirror. The man staring back looked nothing like the desperate poker player who’d stumbled into Nikon’s world a few months ago. Designer suit, styled hair, subtle confidence in his stance—he looked like he belonged in the world of high finance.

Maybe that was the point?

A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. One of Nikon’s security team members—Sergej, if he remembered correctly—stood in the doorway.

“Car’s ready, Mr. Hoyt.”

Mr. Hoyt. That was new. Typically, the security team treated him with polite wariness, like a stray cat their boss had inexplicably decided to keep.

“Thank you.” Reuben grabbed his phone, noting a text from Nikon:

‘Remember—professional demeanor only. No unnecessary conversation.’

Reuben typed back: ‘So no juggling, then?’

Three dots appeared, disappeared, and then: ‘Focus.’

That single word carried more weight than it should. Reuben pocketed his phone, squaring his shoulders as he followed Sergej to the elevator. Whatever game Nikon was playing, whatever test this might be, Reuben would figure it out.

The drive to First National Bank took twenty minutes. Reuben spent them cataloging details: the second SUV trailing them, the earpiece Sergej kept adjusting, the way their route avoided the main streets.

All standard security protocols, but something about today felt different. Heavier.

First National loomed ahead, all glass and steel reaching toward the clouds. But as they pulled up, Reuben spotted a familiar black sedan with tinted windows parked across the street. His heart skipped—Nikon was here, watching.

“Fourteenth floor,” Sergej said as Reuben stepped out. “Ms. Simmons is expecting you.”

The lobby screamed old money—marble floors, brass fixtures, security guards who actually looked like they knew what they were doing.

Despite all of this, Reuben kept his stride confident as he crossed to the elevators, channeling the same energy he used at high-stakes poker tables. Just another business meeting. Just another hand to play.

Ms. Simmons met him at reception, her smile professional but tight around the edges. Late thirties, plain navy suit, wedding ring too loose on her finger. Reuben figured she’d lost weight recently—stress, maybe?

“Mr. Hoyt.” Her handshake was firm, but her palm was damp. “Please, come in.”

Her office overlooked the city, though she kept her back to the view. Another tell. The paperwork waited on her desk, neat stacks that screamed ‘trap’ to Reuben’s poker-trained instincts.

“I hope traffic wasn’t too bad?” Small talk. A classic opener when someone’s stalling.

“Not at all.” Reuben unbuttoned his jacket as he sat, letting his smile turn flirtatious. “Though I’d brave far worse to meet with someone as lovely as you.”

The compliment landed wrong. Her laugh came too quickly, too high. “Oh, you’re too kind. Now, about these accounts...”

She launched into an explanation of the paperwork, but Reuben was more interested in what she wasn’t saying. The way her eyes darted to her computer screen every thirty seconds. The slight tremor in her hands as she pointed out signature lines. The fact that she hadn’t offered him coffee—standard protocol for important clients.

“Just sign here, here, and initial here.” She slid the papers closer, her pen extended like a peace offering.

Reuben took it, letting their fingers brush. She flinched. Barely noticeable, but definitely there.

“Actually,” he leaned back, twirling the pen between his fingers, “I’d love to review these more thoroughly. Perhaps over coffee?”

Her face paled slightly. “Oh, I—I’m afraid our cafe is closed for renovations.”

Lie. He’d seen people with coffee cups in the lobby.

“That’s a shame.” He kept his tone light, playful. “I always think better with caffeine. Especially when handling,” he glanced at the paperwork, “eight-figure transactions.”

The blood drained completely from her face now. “Mr. Hoyt, I—”

A sharp crack split the air. Before Reuben could process what was happening, Ms. Simmons screamed and crimson bloomed across her shoulder. The window behind her desk was spider-webbed with bullet holes.

Pure survival instinct kicked in. Reuben dove for cover behind her desk as three more shots rang out. Glass shattered. Something heavy thudded nearby—a body?

Panic erupted in waves outside Ms. Simmons’s office. The sound of running footsteps thundered past her door as terrified shrieks echoed down the hallway. Someone was shouting about blood. A woman’s voice rose above the chaos, screaming for security. Shock seemed to freeze Reuben in place, his body refusing to process what was happening around him.

Strong hands suddenly grabbed him, hauling him up from behind the desk. The familiar scent of Nikon’s cologne cut through the metallic scent of blood in the air. Nikon’s voice, commanding and sure, sliced through the mayhem: “Move. Now.”

The next few minutes blurred together. Nikon’s arm around his waist, half-dragging him through emergency stairs. Security alarms wailing. Ms. Simmons’s sobbing, the sound sharp and hysterical, fading behind them. The crack of more gunfire, then silence.

The two of them emerged in an underground parking garage. Nikon pushed him into a waiting car, sliding in after him. As the car peeled out of the garage, Reuben finally found his voice.

“What the actual fuck?” His hands were shaking. Reuben clenched them into fists. “Was that—did you—?”

“Not here.” Nikon’s voice was ice, but his hand found Reuben’s knee, squeezing gently. “Wait until we’re back.”

The drive passed in tense silence. Reuben’s mind raced through the events. Ms. Simmons’s nervous ticks. Her too-tight smile. The way she’d flinched at his touch. All those signs he’d cataloged, thinking he was just being thorough, and then—gunfire. Blood. Chaos.

The sleek black car pulled into the private underground garage beneath Nikon’s casino, the engine’s purr echoing off concrete walls. Two security guards immediately stepped forward from their posts, their practiced movements speaking of a well-rehearsed protocol. The first opened Nikon’s door while the second took up position near the service entrance, hand resting casually on his concealed weapon.

Nikon guided Reuben through the garage with a firm hand on his lower back, bypassing the main casino entrance. Instead, they headed straight for the discrete door marked “Private Access”–the entrance Reuben had come to know led to Nikon’s personal elevator.

The moment the doors closed, Reuben rounded on him.

“You knew something was going to happen.” It wasn’t a question. He’d seen too much of Nikon’s calculated planning to believe in coincidences. “That’s why you were watching from across the street?”

Nikon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it.

“All those warnings about being professional, about focusing—” Reuben’s voice shook with anger, with betrayal, with something deeper he couldn’t name. “You used me for something today. I just don’t know what.”

“I kept you safe.” Nikon crowded him against the elevator wall, one hand braced beside Reuben’s head. “That’s what matters.”

“Safe?” The word came out as a broken laugh that scraped Reuben’s throat raw. His hands were shaking as he shoved at Nikon’s chest, the fabric of Nikon’s suit bunching under his fingers. Nikon didn’t budge an inch, solid as steel, which only fed the anger building in Reuben’s chest.

“A woman got shot!” His voice cracked on the last word as the image of crimson blooming across Ms. Simmons’s shoulder flashed through his mind. The sound of shattering glass still echoed in his ears. “Jesus Christ, she was right there, and I just—I was sitting there like some kind of idiot while she—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he ran a hand roughly across his face. “I could have—” Another harsh laugh escaped him, edged with frustration.

The perfectly tailored suit Reuben wore suddenly felt like a costume, a joke. Here he was dressed up like some corporate puppet while bullets tore through glass and people screamed and blood—there had been so much blood—and all because Nikon had sent him in there knowing, KNOWING something was going to...

“Could have what?” Nikon’s other hand grabbed his jaw, forcing their eyes to meet. “Nothing was going to happen to you. I made sure of it.”

“Why?” Reuben searched those blue eyes for answers. “Why send me at all if you knew it was dangerous?”

Instead of answering, Nikon kissed him. Not like their previous kisses—controlled, measured things that always ended too soon. This kiss was possession, pure and raw.

Nikon’s hands gripped Reuben’s hips with bruising strength, shoving him hard against the elevator wall. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, but Reuben met the aggression head-on, his fingers digging into Nikon’s shoulders as he yanked him closer. There was nothing gentle about it–all teeth and desperation as Nikon pressed the full length of his body against him, pinning him in place with raw strength that made Reuben’s pulse spike with want.

Reuben fought back against the dominance instinctively, pushing off the wall to try to reverse their positions, but Nikon was ready for it. His hands slid lower, gripping the backs of Reuben’s thighs as he used his superior height and muscle to force him up against the wall again. The move left Reuben’s feet barely touching the ground, trapped between cold metal and Nikon’s hard body. Instead of yielding, Reuben grabbed a fistful of Nikon’s hair, dragging him into another brutal kiss that was more claim than caress.

The elevator doors opened to Nikon’s private floor. Without missing a beat, he lifted Reuben up and carried him out without breaking their kiss, somehow managing to navigate the hallway into his office. As he set Reuben on the edge of his desk, a phone buzzed in Nikon’s pocket.

Nikon pulled back just enough to check it. His expression darkened.

“What is it?” Reuben asked, still breathless.

“Alexei.” Nikon’s hands flexed on his thighs. “Today’s events will need to be addressed.”

“Will you tell me what really happened?”

“Later.” Nikon leaned in for one more bruising kiss. “For now, wait for me here.”

“And then?”

“And then—” Nikon stepped closer, his fingers trailing up Reuben’s throat to grip his jaw. The touch was possessive, almost cruel in its gentleness. His thumb brushed across Reuben’s bottom lip, pressing just hard enough to feel the sharp edge of his teeth behind it. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped to that quiet register that made Reuben’s spine liquify. “We finish what we started.”