Page 38 of Deadly Offer

He traced a finger across his temple, half-expecting to find a mark where Andrey’s gun had pressed.Nothing there.No physical evidence of what had happened, just the memory loop playing behind his eyes; Andrey’s rage-filled face, the spilled vodka soaking the floor, and Nikon’s eyes finding his across the room.

The bathroom door opened, sending a rush of cooler air through the steam. Nikon stood in the doorway, still wearing yesterday’s shirt—sleeves rolled to the elbows, collar unbuttoned, dark circles shadowing his eyes. He held a steaming mug in each hand, the first time Reuben had ever seen the man look this disheveled.

“Planning to steam up the entire penthouse?” Nikon’s voice carried through the door, exhaustion roughening its edges.

Reuben’s eyes flicked to the door in the mirror. “Sorry. Got distracted.”

“Some people drown themselves in liquor when they can’t sleep.” Nikon’s reflection appeared in the mirror behind him. “You prefer to drown the water bill.”

The voice was Nikon’s, but rougher around the edges than usual. Reuben caught his reflection in the mirror—shoulders slightly slumped, the perfect posture gone.

Reuben’s fingers curled against the marble. “I was just about to get in.”

“For the past fifteen minutes?” Nikon moved closer, mugs in hand, the scent of chamomile cutting through the bathroom’s humidity. It was the first time they’d been alone together since the elevator ride after the confrontation with Andrey.

Nikon had spent most of the day after that working from his office at his casino, dealing with the aftermath of his brother’s defection. Meanwhile, Reuben alternated between trying to relax and staring out the window of the penthouse apartment, his restless energy making it impossible to settle.

“Here.” Nikon offered a mug of tea. “Thought you might need this.” Nikon set one mug on the marble counter. “I wasn’t sure if you were actually showering or just...” His voice trailed off as his gaze met Reuben’s in the mirror.

Reuben pivoted away from his reflection, fingers aching from how tightly he’d been gripping the counter. His knuckles had gone white, leaving behind half-moon indentations in his palms. “How’d it go at the casino?”

Nikon’s shoulders tensed beneath the rumpled shirt. “We’re still sorting through the mess. Security protocols, staff loyalties.” His knuckles whitened around his mug, mirroring Reuben’s own tension. “Everyone Andrey ever spoke with.”

The name lingered in the air, toxic and inescapable.

Reuben hoisted himself onto the marble counter. He then claimed the tea, letting his legs dangle as he cradled the warm mug between his palms. The heat seeped into his skin, anchoring him to the present moment. “I keep replaying it. Over and over...”

Reuben’s voice drifted off when words couldn’t capture what played in his head. Those long heartbeats when Andrey’s gun pressed against his head. How everything slowed down; Grigorii’s finger tensing on the trigger, Nikon’s stance shifting from shock to lethal readiness, the smell of vodka. The terror Reuben had felt barely twenty-four hours ago had made everything razor-sharp, every sense heightened.

Nikon moved to stand between Reuben’s legs, close but not touching. His presence filled the negative space like water seeking its level as he rested his hands on Reuben’s thighs. “When he put his hands on you.” The words carried a deadly undercurrent.

“Yes. And... no.” Reuben took a careful sip, buying seconds to organize his thoughts. “It’s more the look on Andrey’s face I can’t shake. Like I was nothing. Just an obstacle.”

Nikon’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the five-o’clock shadow that had grown past its usual precise trim. “Henevershould have touched you.”

There was something raw in Nikon’s voice, something beyond the fatigue and strain of the past forty-eight hours. Reuben studied him over the rim of his mug. The carefully controlled man he’d grown to know would never let himself appear this undone.

“You think I blame you.” Not a question.

Nikon’s gaze dropped to the floor, an answer more definitive than words.

“Nikon. Look at me.” Reuben set his mug aside, sliding his hands along the counter’s edge. “What happened with Andrey—”

“I should have done something earlier.” Nikon’s voice dropped to a near-whisper, heavy with self-recrimination. “I knew something was wrong. I’ve known for weeks. But he is my brother, and I—” He shook his head, lips pressed into a tight line.

The confession lingered, more intimate than any touch. Nikon never admitted failure, never acknowledged doubt. Except now, in this steam-filled bathroom at 1:30 in the morning, with his defenses crumbling like sandcastles at high tide.

“You couldn’t have known he’d go this far.”

“But I did.” Nikon stepped closer, his hands finally finding Reuben’s forearms, thumbs pressing gently against his pulse points. “I’ve seen this before. Men who are eaten up with jealousy, with hate. I saw it in Andrey too. But I told myself he was family. That it would be enough to keep him loyal.” His fingers tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to emphasize his words. “And it nearly cost meyou.”

The naked fear in his tone cut deep. Reuben had watched Nikon face down cartel leaders and rival families without blinking. Had seen him order men beaten with the same casual ease he used for picking out a tie. But that slight shake in his voice? That was new.

“Hey.” Reuben caught Nikon’s face between his hands, forcing those haunted eyes to meet his. “I’m right here. Still breathing.”

“This time.” Nikon’s gaze fixed on the spot where Andrey’s gun had pressed. Invisible to anyone else, but Nikon saw it anyway. “I can’t...” He cleared his throat, searching for words that wouldn’t come.

“Can’t what?” Reuben prompted softly, resisting the urge to fill the silence. With Nikon, patience often revealed more than questions.

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