Page 39 of Shadow Waltz
THE PRICE OF LOYALTY
ASH
It was supposed to be a business negotiation, but the air tasted like heat and threat, every word double-edged. I sat perfectly still, spine straight, refusing to let him see my nerves—refusing, above all, to let him see the revulsion crawling over my skin.
Rajesh Mehta was the kind of man who could’ve starred in a cologne ad if you ignored the sharpness in his eyes. Silver at the temples, black hair combed back with the careful touch of someone who didn’t mind admiring his own reflection. His jaw was clean-shaven, sculpted and proud, and every movement of his mouth suggested a secret only he knew. His suit was blue, almost midnight, cut to flatter, the silk tie a darker shade that drew the eye toward his chest. Even the way he sat—legs crossed, wrists relaxed over the arms of his chair—was a lesson in practiced control.
But it was his eyes that pinned me in place. Brown, deep, almost black, and sparkling with an intelligence that said he’d eaten men alive for less than a careless answer. They were wolf’seyes, predatory, amused, and more than a little interested in things that had nothing to do with business.
He leaned closer, the scent of vetiver and something peppery—gun oil, maybe—curling in the air between us. “Do you want to be wasted here, Ash? Decorated and displayed until you fade like a pretty painting no one remembers? Or do you want to matter?”
My mouth was dry, but my voice didn’t betray it. “Depends on the price of mattering, Mr. Mehta.”
He smiled, teeth white and even, just a little too sharp. “Everything has a price. But I always pay in full.”
He let that hang, an invitation and a warning. My heart thudded once, hard, against my ribs. I could feel him watching the way I breathed, the pulse fluttering at my throat. For a moment, I saw myself through his eyes: a weapon disguised as a prize, desperate not to be owned.
He uncrossed his legs, shifted forward, and the air seemed to grow tighter, hotter. “I could use a man like you. Someone who understands risk. Who knows how to handle himself under pressure—and how to handle others.” His gaze dipped again, almost caressing. “In my world, loyalty is rewarded. But so is ambition. I’m offering you both, Ash. All you have to do is reach for it.”
I wanted to laugh in his face, to spit the lie back at him, but Luka’s words echoed in my skull—play your part, learn what you can. So I smiled, slow and careful. “You make a compelling offer. But it’s a dangerous thing, underestimating how much a man values his freedom.”
Mehta’s expression didn’t flicker. “You say that as if you’ve tasted it.” He reached out, his hand hovering near my knee, and for a moment I thought he’d touch me—claim me in front of the mirrored glass, consequences be damned.
I went cold all over, but didn’t move. Not yet.
“Freedom is a spectrum, Mr. Carter. Sometimes it’s just a wider cage.” His voice dropped, thick and intimate, until it was almost a purr. “But I know how to make my pets very comfortable.”
I met his eyes and let him see a flicker of disgust, just enough to whet his appetite. “I’m not a pet.”
He smiled, slow and wolfish. “We all start somewhere.”
His hand drifted lower, resting on the arm of my chair, knuckles inches from my thigh. I tried not to tense, but I could feel it—the heat rolling off him, the way his breathing thickened. Something pressed against my side, unmistakable through the fine wool of his trousers and the slight shift in the air as he moved closer. Mehta was hard, and he wanted me to know it.
I kept my face blank, refusing to react. The game had changed; I was no longer a person but a prize, the tension winding tighter with every heartbeat. I could feel Luka’s eyes burning through the one-way mirror behind me—silent judge, silent executioner, silent protector. Or maybe just a man seeing exactly what he’d set in motion.
Mehta leaned in, his lips close to my ear, breath ghosting over the shell of it, hot and deliberate. “You have two choices, Ash. You can play the part you were bought for, or you can fight it. I promise you, both have their own rewards.”
His cock pressed harder against my hip as he spoke, the friction sickeningly deliberate. I locked my jaw, focusing on the texture of the leather beneath my fingertips, the pattern of my own shallow breaths. I would not give him the satisfaction of flinching.
He let his hand settle on my thigh, palm broad and warm, fingers splaying just above my knee—possessive, exploratory, confident. His grip was just light enough to give me the illusion of choice. I glanced at his face and saw satisfaction there,a predator relishing the proximity, the anticipation, the slow erosion of my boundaries.
“You’re beautiful up close,” he murmured, his voice so low I doubted the bugs in the room would catch it. “I’ve waited a long time to see what makes you special, Ash. Luka’s been very selfish keeping you to himself.”
I swallowed, keeping my voice even. “I imagine he had his reasons.”
He chuckled, the sound rolling through his chest. “We all have our appetites.” His fingers edged upward, stopping just shy of indecency. “Mine just happen to be more... discerning.”
I could feel the heat of him through my clothes, could feel his arousal as clearly as the threat in his voice. There was no mistaking what he wanted. But I also knew Luka was watching—waiting to see what I’d do, what I’d allow, how I’d play this hand.
I let myself go still, like prey before a strike. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a countdown. “If you wanted a toy, Mehta, you should’ve gone to the showroom downstairs.”
He laughed softly, clearly amused. “But you’re so much more than a toy, Ash. You’re the rarest thing in this business—talent and beauty, loyalty and danger, all tangled up in a package no one can quite own.”
He drew his hand away, tracing the crease of my slacks, leaving a trail of fire and revulsion in his wake. I refused to shiver, refused to give him the show he craved.
He leaned closer, lips barely an inch from mine, his breath warm and spiced with whiskey. “I could make you very powerful. Very rich. All you have to do is say yes.”
I forced myself to meet his gaze, flat and cold as ice. “I already belong to someone.”