Page 24 of Deadly Hands

But what?

“Should I be looking for anything specific?” Reuben kept his tone light, curious rather than probing.

Nikon’s expression shuttered. “Just be your observant self.” His hand slid up to cup Reuben’s jaw, thumb brushing across his lower lip. “And remember who you belong to.”

The possessive gesture sent electricity down Reuben’s spine. He parted his lips, letting his tongue flick against Nikon’s thumb. Two could play at this game of control.

“Belonging implies ownership.” He met those dangerous eyes. “And ownership usually involves taking what’s yours.”

The words hung between them, heavy with weeks of unresolved tension. Nikon’s pupils dilated, darkness swallowing the blue irises. For a moment, Reuben thought he’d pushed far enough to break that iron control.

Then a moment later Nikon stepped back, straightening his already immaculate suit jacket. “The car will be waiting downstairs in forty-five minutes. Wear the grey suit I had delivered.”

And just like that, the moment shattered.

Reuben bit back a frustrated groan. “You know, most people just give flowers when they’re interested in getting into a relationship with someone.”

“I’m not most people.” The words carried an edge of danger that reminded Reuben exactly who he was dealing with. “And this isn’t that kind of relationship.”

Wasn’t it? The heated kisses, the lingering touches, the way Nikon’s gaze followed him across rooms... it all pointed to something far more complex than a simple business arrangement.

“Then what kind of relationship is it?” Reuben knew he was pushing his luck, but the words slipped out anyway. The sexual frustration was starting to make him reckless. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you can’t decide whether to fuck me or keep me at arm’s length.”

Something dangerous flashed in Nikon’s eyes. “Watch your tone.”

“Or what?” Reuben stepped closer, tilting his chin up in challenge. “You’ll punish me? Add another month to my debt? Or maybe you’ll finally follow through on one of those promises your hands keep making?”

Nikon suddenly moved faster than Reuben could track. One moment he was standing two feet away, the next his hand was wrapped around Reuben’s throat. Not squeezing, just holding—a reminder of power rather than a threat.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.” Nikon’s voice dropped to a whisper, lips brushing Reuben’s ear. “What I want to do to you?”

Reuben’s pulse jumped beneath Nikon’s fingers. “Then show me.”

Instead of answering, Nikon released him and turned toward his desk. “Get changed. The grey suit is in your office.”

Right. Because, of course, Reuben had an office now, just down the hall from Nikon’s. A perfectly respectable space where he could pretend he wasn’t essentially a hostage working off someone else’s debt through increasingly questionable means.

“Fine.” Reuben straightened his collar and fixed his shirt, trying to ignore how his skin still tingled where Nikon had touched him. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

“It is for now.”

The dismissal in Nikon’s tone stung, but Reuben refused to let it show. He’d learned that much at least—never reveal your tells, especially to someone who could read them as well as Nikon did.

The grey suit waited in Reuben’s office, exactly as promised. Cashmere wool, perfectly tailored to his measurements. Another gift from his captor-turned-whatever-the-hell-Nikon-was-now.

Reuben changed quickly, mind racing through possible reasons for this sudden banking errand.

Why send him? Why today? And why was Nikon so obviously unsettled by it?

The questions chased each other in circles as Reuben adjusted his tie in the mirror. The man staring back looked nothing like the desperate poker player who’d stumbled into Nikon’s world a few months ago. Designer suit, styled hair, subtle confidence in his stance—he looked like he belonged in the world of high finance.

Maybe that was the point?

A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. One of Nikon’s security team members—Sergej, if he remembered correctly—stood in the doorway.

“Car’s ready, Mr. Hoyt.”

Mr. Hoyt. That was new. Typically, the security team treated him with polite wariness, like a stray cat their boss had inexplicably decided to keep.

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