Page 95 of Shadow Waltz
Ash leaned into my touch, and I felt the way his muscles relaxed under my palms, the unconscious surrender that spoke to trust building between us. “Maybe I'm just properly motivated.”
“And what motivates you?” I asked, letting my fingers find the collar at his throat, tracing the leather with deliberate intimacy.
“Proving that your half-million-dollar investment was worth it,” Ash said quietly, and the vulnerability in his voice reminded me that underneath the strategic intelligence and growing confidence, he was still someone who'd spent his life being treated as disposable.
“You proved that the first night you wore my collar,” I said, meaning it more than I'd meant anything in years. “Everything since then has been profit.”
The conversation was interrupted by my phone buzzing with an encrypted message from Mason, the kind of communication that usually meant problems requiring immediate attention.
“What is it?” Ash asked, reading tension in my posture with the same accuracy he brought to intelligence analysis.
“Mason's intercepted communications suggesting that our competitors are starting to take notice of your... elevated status within the organization,” I said, setting the phone aside and trying to calculate the implications. “Apparently, word has spread about Baltimore.”
“Good or bad?”
“Complicated.” I moved to the windows overlooking the city, watching early morning traffic flow through streets that belonged to me in everything but name. “On one hand, it establishes you as someone worth taking seriously. On the other hand, it makes you a target for people who want to hurt me through you.”
Ash was quiet for a moment, processing the reality of what association with me meant for his safety. When he spoke, his voice carried the kind of practical acceptance that reminded me why I'd been drawn to him in the first place.
“So we adapt. We get better security, better intelligence, better contingency planning.” He stood and moved to join me at the window, close enough that I could smell his skin and the faint scent of expensive soap. “We make it clear that targeting me means declaring war on you.”
“Starting with Troy remaining as your personal protection,” I said, watching his expression shift from partnership to mild rebellion. “Full time, no exceptions, especially when you're handling organizational business.”
“I don't need a babysitter,” Ash replied, that familiar stubborn edge creeping into his voice. “I can take care of myself, and having Troy shadow me constantly makes me look weak to the people I'm supposed to be making deals with.”
“Troy makes you look valuable enough to protect,” I corrected, moving closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “And after Baltimore, after this afternoon's meeting, you are exactly that valuable. Which means you're exactly that much of a target.”
Ash opened his mouth to argue further, but I silenced him with a look that reminded him exactly who made the final decisions in this relationship. “This isn't negotiable. Troy stays with you, or you stay locked in this building. Those are your only options.”
I watched him process the ultimatum, saw the moment when strategic thinking won out over wounded pride. “Fine. But he keeps a lower profile during business meetings. I won't have potential partners thinking I'm too fragile to handle myself.”
“Agreed,” I said, appreciating that he'd found a compromise that addressed both our concerns. “Troy knows how to be invisible when necessary.”
The casual way he included himself in my strategic planning, the assumption that we would face threats together rather than my protecting him from them, sent heat racing through my veins that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with recognition. This was what partnership looked like when both parties understood the stakes.
“There's a meeting this afternoon,” I said, turning to face him. “Potential new clients, Eastern European connections looking to establish smuggling routes through our territory. I want you there.”
“In what capacity?”
“As my partner. My advisor. Someone whose judgment I trust and whose insights complement my own.” I reached out to cup his face in my hands, feeling the slight roughness of morning stubble against my palms. “As someone who matters enough to me that insulting you would be a terminal mistake.”
Ash's smile was slow and dangerous and completely without fear. “I can work with that.”
The afternoon meetingtook place in the conference room where this had all started, where I'd first seen Ash refuse to break under pressure that would have destroyed most people. But now he sat beside me at the head of the table, collar visible at his throat but posture radiating confidence that commanded respect rather than pity.
Our guests were exactly what I'd expected from Eastern European criminal organizations—well-dressed, well-armed, and carrying themselves with the kind of casual violence that came from growing up in environments where strength was the only currency that mattered. But I caught the way their eyes lingered on Ash, cataloguing his youth and beauty while missing the intelligence burning behind his careful composure.
“Gentlemen,” I said, gesturing toward Ash with casual authority, “my partner will be handling the logistical aspects of any arrangement we might reach.”
The older of the two visitors, a man whose scarred face spoke to decades of surviving in unforgiving environments, looked between Ash and me with calculating interest. “Your partner is quite young.”
“Young and brilliant,” I replied, letting steel color my voice in ways that made the statement feel like a warning rather thansimple pride. “Which is why our operations run more smoothly than our competitors'.”
Ash leaned forward slightly, and I watched him transform from the submissive who'd gasped my name just hours ago into someone who belonged in rooms where millions of dollars changed hands and lives were decided by handshake agreements.
“Our analysis of your proposed shipping routes indicates several vulnerabilities that would need to be addressed before we could commit to partnership,” he said, voice carrying the kind of calm authority that made both visitors pay attention. “Federal surveillance patterns, port security protocols, customs enforcement schedules—all variables that could turn profitable smuggling into expensive arrests.”
The younger visitor, someone who probably thought youth meant inexperience, leaned back in his chair with obvious skepticism. “And you have solutions to these vulnerabilities?”