Page 88 of Shadow Waltz
The emphasis carried weight that went beyond simple urgency. Luka was past the point of patience, past the point of waiting for me to present myself at his convenience. This was a summoning, and everyone in the room understood exactly what that meant.
“Good luck,” Carina murmured as I stood, but her expression suggested she thought I was going to need a lot more than luck.
The walk to Luka's office felt longer than usual, each step carrying me deeper into territory where the rules I thought I understood no longer applied. Staff members I passed in the corridors didn't quite meet my eyes, their expressions carefully neutral in the way that suggested they'd already heard about whatever was waiting for me.
The outer office was empty except for the usual security measures, but I could feel the weight of surveillance, the sense that every word and gesture would be catalogued and analyzed. When I reached the door to Luka's private domain, I paused for just a moment, hand on the biometric scanner, and let myself acknowledge what I was walking into.
This was the moment everything changed. Whatever happened in the next hour would either strengthen what we'd built together or shatter it completely. But I'd made my choice when I rerouted those shipments, and I wasn't going to back down now.
The scanner read my palm and disengaged the locks with a series of soft clicks that sounded like bullets being chambered.I stepped into Luka's domain and found him exactly where I'd expected—standing by the wall of monitors, his back to the door, posture radiating controlled fury tempered by something that looked almost like hurt.
“Close the door,” he said without turning around, his voice carrying deadly calm but lacking its usual ice.
I obeyed, engaging the privacy locks that would ensure this conversation remained between us. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken accusations and disappointment.
“Three shipments,” Luka said finally, turning to face me with movements that were deliberately slow. “Worth approximately forty-seven million dollars in revenue. Rerouted without authorization, without consultation, without so much as a courtesy notification.”
There was pain beneath the anger—not just at the insubordination, but at the breach of trust.
“The Baltimore route was compromised,” I said, keeping my voice level despite the way his eyes seemed to burn with hurt as much as fury. “I had forty minutes to make a decision that would either save those shipments or watch them disappear into federal evidence lockers.”
“You had forty minutes to contact me.” His voice cracked slightly on the words, revealing the wound beneath the authority.
“You were in a security briefing with people I don't trust. By the time you could have been safely extracted and briefed on the situation, the window would have closed.”
Luka moved closer, but there was something almost vulnerable in his predatory grace now. “So you took it upon yourself to make executive decisions about my organization,” he said, voice dropping to that dangerous register that now carried undertones of genuine betrayal. “After everything we’ve done, you still don't trust me enough to?—”
He stopped himself, jaw clenching against words that would reveal too much.
“I made the decision that saved forty-seven million dollars and kept your people out of federal custody,” I replied, hearing the challenge in my own voice but also catching the flicker of pain that crossed his features. “Which is exactly what you would have done if you'd had the information I had.”
“That's not the point.” The words came out rougher than he'd intended, and I could see him struggling between fury and something that looked dangerously like abandonment.
“Then what is the point?” I stepped closer, close enough to see the way his composure wavered. “Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're more concerned with being obeyed than with making smart decisions.”
Something shifted in his expression—hurt giving way to that familiar dangerous intensity, but softer around the edges. “Careful, Ash,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper that somehow felt more threatening than any shout. “You're walking a very thin line right now.”
“Am I?” I tilted my head, studying the conflict playing across his face. “Or am I finally asking the questions we've been avoiding since the day you bought me?”
“Which questions would those be?” The words came out carefully controlled, but I could hear the uncertainty underneath.
“What am I to you?” The words came out steady, deliberate, loaded with everything we'd been dancing around for weeks. “Property or partner? Pet or person? Someone whose judgment you value or just another asset to be managed?”
Luka was quiet for a long moment, and I could see him processing not just my words but the fear behind them—his fear of losing control, my fear of never being seen as more than a possession.
“You're mine,” he said finally, but the words carried weight beyond ownership. “That's all that matters.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It's the only answer I know how to give.” The admission was quiet, almost vulnerable, but his eyes still burned with banked fire.
I laughed, the sound bitter and sharp. “Then I guess we understand each other perfectly. You want absolute control, and I want to be treated like my brain is worth more than my body.”
“Your brain is exactly why you're in this position,” Luka replied, moving closer until there was barely a breath of space between us. “Do you think I keep you around for your stunning personality?”
“I think you keep me around because you can't decide whether you want to fuck me or kill me, and the uncertainty is driving you crazy.”
The observation hit its target with surgical accuracy. I watched his expression shift, saw the moment when hurt and anger crystallized into something darker but somehow more honest. Instead of fear, I felt heat coil low in my belly—anticipation mixed with the recognition that we were finally having the conversation we'd been avoiding.