Page 8 of Deadly Offer

Moments later, the meeting room door clicked shut behind Alexei, leaving Nikon alone with thoughts that circled like wolves. He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over Reuben’s name in his contacts.

The urge to call, to hear that voice, to make sure Reuben wassafe...

A beat passed. Nikon locked his phone and set it face-down on the table.

Chapter 4

The elevator’s soft chime echoed through the penthouse at 11:03 PM.

Reuben straightened in his chair at the head of the dining table, where he’d been pretending to read reports for the last hour. He didn’t need to see Nikon to know something was off—the rhythm of his footsteps told him everything as he listened to Nikon’s approach through the penthouse foyer.

Whatever had happened at the family meeting, it wasn’t good.

When Nikon appeared in the doorway, the subtle imperfections in his appearance confirmed Reuben’s suspicions. The Windsor knot of his silk tie had been loosened, his jacket bore fresh creases, and his dark hair showed signs of fingers running through it repeatedly—all details that Reuben quickly cataloged.

“You didn’t need to wait up.” Nikon’s voice carried that particular edge that always meant trouble was brewing.

“I wanted to.” Reuben shrugged as he rose from his seat, closing the distance between them. “The meeting ran long?”

Nikon hummed in agreement as his hands slid to Reuben’s waist, fingertips pressing in. The kiss that followed was hard, purposeful—all pressure and demand. Reuben kept his own hands loose at his sides, neither yielding nor resisting, while Nikon’s grip tightened enough to leave memories for the morning.

When they parted, Nikon’s dark gaze traced every line of Reuben’s face, and Reuben fought to suppress the shiver thatthreatened to betray just how deeply that scrutiny turned him on.

“You’ve been busy while I was gone.” Nikon’s gaze swept over the carefully arranged table, taking in the waiting plates and opened wine.

“Someone has to make sure you eat.” The words came out lighter than Reuben felt. He grinned as he gestured toward Nikon’s usual chair. “Sit. Before everything gets cold.”

A muscle twitched in Nikon’s jaw. Another tell. He released Reuben and moved to the table but remained standing, one hand curled around the back of his chair. “We need to discuss something.”

The air in the room seemed to thicken. Reuben returned to his seat, maintaining eye contact. “I assumed as much when you missed dinner.”

“Your conversation with James Donovan the other night—” Nikon’s fingers whitened as they curled around the chair back. “It’s opened an opportunity.”

Frustration crept up Reuben’s throat, releasing as a long sigh. “An opportunity for me to do more than deal cards?”

Nikon shook his head. “No. As an opportunity for us to gain intelligence on Dmitrii Miroslav.” Nikon lowered himself into the chair, spine rigid. “You’ve caught his attention. We can use that.”

Reuben’s pulse skipped. After months of being held at arm’s length from real business, this carried the sharp scent of either test or trap. Perhaps both.

“You want me to spy on Miroslav?” Reuben reached for his wineglass, using the motion to mask his surprise. “That’s quite a change from keeping me exclusively in the poker rooms.”

“It’s reconnaissance only.” Steel threaded through Nikon’s words. “Quick in and out. You’ll pose as someone frustrated withyour current position. Make yourself appealing as a potential recruit.”

Reuben took a measured sip of wine, studying Nikon over the rim of his glass. “And what changed your mind about involving me in more operations? Last week, you wouldn’t even let me sit in on Grigorii’s meeting with the dock workers.”

“Circumstances change.” Nikon’s fingers lifted from the table, then settled back to tap once against the polished wood. His gaze stayed on that point of contact, avoiding Reuben’s eyes.

“Do they?” Reuben set down his glass. “Or did your brothers finally convince you to use me for more than dealing cards?”

Something dark flashed across Nikon’s face. “This isn’t about them.”

“Then what is it about?” Heat bled into Reuben’s voice. “You’re asking me to walk into a possible trap? Are youactuallytrusting me with this, or are you just testing me again?”

Nikon’s jaw tightened, his control slipping for a moment. “This isn’t about trust. It’s about protecting what’s ours.”

“What’s ours?” Reuben kept his voice quiet, studying the subtle shifts in Nikon’s expression. “Or what’s yours?”

“Don’t.” Nikon’s hand shot across the table, capturing Reuben’s wrist. His grip was firm but not painful—a reminder rather than a threat. “You know what you mean to me.”

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