Page 30 of Dirty Little Secrets

XAIDEN

One word— ”shipment” —and I’m already moving.

The second word— ”missing” —has me tossing clothes into the spare suitcase I keep in the office and call Tomasz Górski.

By the time the bastard on the other end mentionswhich one,my jaw is locked, my pulse steady, and my plane is on standby to head to Chicago.

Tonight. I hate the Polish mob but they pay.

I call Bash when he has Nori safe in the care on the way here. It’s almost nine and the pilot is waiting for us to arrive for takeoff.

When I hang up, I don’t look at Nori right away. I can feel her eyes on me, though, uncertain, and tense. She’s standing by the windows of my office in a knee length dress accentuating her curves, the skyline reflected in the glass behind her like a painting of a life I can’t have.

“You’re coming with me,” I say, reaching for my coat.

“To Chicago?” Her voice is a shade above a whisper.

I’m texting Bash to make sure he picks up enough weapons to take out an rmy when I get there.

This could be civil or go South but she is my priority to keep safe but I can’t just show up with guns blazing and expect nothing to happen.

This has to go the same way it began, a business dinner that ends in a mutual agreement.

When the elevator opens directly on the top floor, the penthouse reeks of cigar smoke and old power. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the veins of lights in downtown Chicago, but no one’s here for the view.

Every man in the room is wired tight, buzzing with quiet fury and ego. Suits tailored like armor. Watches that could buy a car. Smiles that don’t reach their eyes.

Tomasz Górski leans back in a leather chair like he owns the city. His cuffs are gold. So are his bottom teeth. He’s the kind of man who inherited violence and mistook it for legacy.

He looks at Nori first. A slow, deliberate rake of his eyes down her frame, like he’s scanning a product. The small slit in her dress reveals just enough leg to tempt. It’s not her fault because I like her this way. I wanted her beautiful everywhere she went. Poised. Controlled. Untouchable.

But his stare lingers and it runs down my insides like acid.

Wrong move.

“This the new one?” Tomasz asks in Polish, cocking his head. “She looks soft. I thought you liked your women with claws.”

I keep my expression tight not moving an inch. “She doesn’t speak Polish,” I reply in his native tongue, flat and clipped.

His cousin steps in then. Sporting a buzz cut, a thick gold chain, and a gold ring on every finger like he’s trying to convince the world he’s not second-rate muscle.

He walks straight to her and I step in front but Tomasz raises his hand to ward him off. His cousin stops but he’s too close. His cologne is cheap and choking and then his hand brushes her arm. Casual. Possessive. Testing.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” His English is butchered and slow, the way you'd talk to a stripper you didn’t plan on tipping.

Nori shifts away. The tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curl around her clutch like she’s deciding if it could double as a weapon.

“Becareful,” I warn.

He gives me a cocky smile that causes the animal inside me to rattle in its cage. And then he touches her again. Fingers skating her bare skin.

I’m already moving. I grab his wrist and slam it into the edge of the glass coffee table with a sound like a bat meeting bone. A wet, sharp crack flies through the air.

He howls. I pull the Glock from my jacket and fire. The bullet punches through his skull, clean and fast. Blood explodes like a burst of ink against the white marble. Nori doesn’t scream. She flinches but her eyes stay locked on mine like she’s anchoring herself to me.

Good girl.

Tomasz is frozen, mouth parted, his cigar sagging of his thick bottom lip.

“You lost ten million in product,” I say, stepping past the body. “You touched what wasn’t yours to touch and now you’ve lost your cousin.”

Three men approach from the back room but I have my gin aimed right at his head. No one breathes.

“I want payment in seventy-two hours,” I continue. “If you’re late, I’ll collect interest in every single person you care about.”

Tomasz nods once. He knows. We both know what happens if he doesn’t pay. I don’t give a shit if someone infiltrated my security program and stole his shipment. I turn, extend a hand to Nori. She doesn’t hesitate and slides her sweaty palm in mine.

In the elevator, her perfume is subtle and warm, but I can still smell that bastard’s cologne on her skin. She doesn’t speak until the gold-plated doors seal behind us.

“You didn’t even flinch,” she murmurs, watching the numbers count down.

“I don’t flinch.”

Her voice is quieter now. “Was it because of me? Or was that the plan?”

I turn my head and meet her brown eyes. They are dark, steady, and wide with something between fear and need.

Her breath catches when I say it.

“Yes. It was because of you.”

I should’ve said it weeks ago. Maybe when she walked into my office in that skirt and called me sir like she didn’t know I already knew how her voice sounded when she moaned. But I kept my mouth shut. Because if I was wrong... it meant I wanted her too much.

The truth hangs between us like a heavy ball and chain. A truth I wasn’t sure I could say aloud again. But it’s out now, bleeding into the quiet hum of the descending elevator, pulsing louder than the city below.

She swallows hard. I see her throat move, her lips part, but nothing comes out. Her fingers twist the strap of her clutch until her knuckles pale, but she doesn't look away.

She should back away. Run. But she doesn’t.

And neither do I.

The silence swells. Tighter. Hotter. My pulse kicks up a notch as she shifts an inch closer. Her eyes search mine like she’s trying to find the man she wants me to be and the one who would just shoot a man in the head for touching her.

She won’t find him the man she wants. But fuck if I don’t want to pretend for her.

The elevator glides to a stop between floors—mid-system hold. I tapped the override. When I step toward her, she doesn't move. Her chin tilts up slightly, defiant and daring all at once, like she wants me to prove her wrong.

Her lips part. I reach down and brush a strand of hair from her cheek, letting my thumb linger on the edge of her jaw. Her skin is soft, flushed with adrenaline.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” I murmur.

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t know what I’ll do to you if you let me kiss you.”

Her eyes flick to my mouth. “Maybe I want to find out.”

Fuck.

My control snaps. I crash my mouth into hers.

It’s not sweet. Not gentle. It’s need. It’s months of tension, rage, restraint.

All of it unraveling in one brutal, perfect kiss.

Her body melts into mine, and I’m already crowding her against the elevator wall, gripping her waist, sliding one hand into her hair as her fingers fist my jacket.

She gasps when I bite her lower lip, and I swallow the sound like I’ve been starving for it. Her lips taste like heat and sweet secrets.

She kisses me back like she’s never wanted anything more. And I realize I’m fucked.

Because I’ll never get enough. It feels like I’ve kissed her my whole life. Familiar. Like coming home during the winter.

We break apart like the air between us snapped. Her breath is shallow, cheeks flushed.

I lean my forehead against hers for a second—just a second—like I need to remind myself she’s real. That I didn’t imagine the way she kissed me back like she’s been waiting her whole life for me to do it. Her fingers are still twisted in my shirt. My hands are still buried in her hair.

The elevator jolts softly, reminding us that reality waits on the other side of those steel doors. Nori blinks up at me, lips swollen from the kiss. Her eyes dart to the panel, then back to me.

I step back first.

Carefully. Slowly. Like peeling off my own skin. She straightens her dress with shaky hands, lips pressed into a line that trembles at the corners. She won’t meet my eyes now.

Because if she did, I’d kiss her again.

The elevator dings. The doors slide open with a hiss of cold, from the street. Bash is waiting in a blacked-out Mercedes with back passenger door open.

“Call for a cleanup,” I tell him before sliding inside the car behind Nori.

“Yes, sir.”

The whole ride to the hotel is cloaked in silence. Neither of us wanting to discuss what happened because there were so many lines crossed tonight.

Our silence follows us into the suite with muted lights, soft carpet, the distant buzz of a city below. The windows stretch floor to ceiling, showcasing a skyline that looks like it’s burning gold.

I shrug off my jacket and toss it on the armchair, trying to forget the taste of her on my tongue. She stands near the window, arms crossed, staring out like she’s afraid if she looks at me again.

“You should rest,” I say, my voice lower than it should be.

She nods but doesn’t move.

“Second bedroom is through the hall,” I add. “You’ll be safe here.”

Safe from the city. From the Polish mob. But not from me and not from whatever the fuck this is between us.

When she finally turns, her eyes soften enough to gut me. “Goodnight, Xaiden.”

She walks off without another word. And I stand there in the dim light, jaw clenched, hands still twitching with the memory of her waist beneath my palms. I should never have touched her. But I already know I will again.