Page 2 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

What the fuck? Control yourself, Mira.

From across the room, Antoine's distinctive laugh cuts through the jazz music. My target. The reason I'm here. The man who needs to die tonight.

But my feet don't want to move.

"Let me at least buy you champagne," J. Ryder says, those blue-green eyes locked on mine. "You can drink it while planning how to kill me for ruining your dress. I'm Jax, by the way."

He extends his hand, and I know touching him is a mistake. Know it the way I know a blade's edge—instinctively, absolutely.

I don't take it.

"Enjoy your evening, Jax."

I turn away, forcing my legs to carry me across the Onyx Room. Each step feels wrong. My thighs slide together, slick with arousal I shouldn't feel. The silk clings to my skin, heavy with whiskey and remembering his scent, something warm and masculine, makes my mouth water.

Behind me, I hear him talking to someone, his voice carrying despite the crowd.

"I'd let her destroy me. Impolitely. Thoroughly. Whatever she wants."

"Jesus, Jax." A measured voice responds—must be the Asian man with dangerous eyes. "You lost a hundred grand at the poker table last week and now you're—"

"I'd lose a million if she asked me to."

If only he knew.

The walk to Antoine's table in the VIP section feels endless. My body hums at a frequency I don't recognize, every cell aware of Jax Ryder's presence behind me at the bar. I can feel his stare like hands on my skin, possessive and hungry.

Antoine rises as I approach, champagne already poured.

"Mira, darling. You look..." His eyes catch sight of the wet silk. "What happened?"

"Minor collision." I accept the crystal flute, noting the slight tremor in my hand. "Nothing that won't dry."

But that's a lie. Nothing about me will dry tonight. I'm soaked through, aching, my body singing a name I just learned.

"You understand, Mira, that true wealth comes from understanding demand." Antoine continues as if our conversation had never stopped. He leans closer, his cologne thick and cloying compared to whiskey and warm male. "Eastern Europe provides... resources that certain clients crave."

I make interested sounds while my fingers find the ceramic capsule in my bracelet. Muscle memory takes over—I've done this dozens of times. Slide, drop, dissolve. Fifteen minutes until cardiac arrest. Untraceable.

Except my hand hesitates.

Do it. Complete the mission. Walk away.

Antoine gestures broadly, painting pictures of shipping routes and special cargo, and I use the movement to slip the poison into his glass. The concentrated oleandrin extract dissolves instantly, colorless and odorless, and will cause almost immediate cardiac failure without other telltale symptoms.

"Young ones," he says, voice dropping. "Virgin flesh. My friend Alexei Petrov has a shipment coming next month. Untouched and terrified, exactly how certain clients prefer them."

Rage burns through me at Petrov's name, but underneath it, something else entirely. I glance back at the bar. Jax still watches me, gripping the edge like he's physically restraining himself. His friend, built like a fighter despite being shorter, has a hand on his shoulder.

When our gazes meet, a jolt shoots straight through me.Curious.

I turn back to Antoine. "Perhaps we could continue this somewhere more... private?"

Twelve minutes until the poison takes full effect.

"I have the penthouse at the Fairmont." His smile turns predatory. "We could discuss opportunities in greater detail."

As we stand to leave, I let myself look back once more. Jax's whole body leans forward, and his lips move. Even across the room, I can read the word.