Page 40 of Stricken

The air between us grows warm and I return his smile with one of my own. It's not real but I'm sure it looks friendly enough. Just then our food arrives and we both concentrate on the dinner.

When the waiter clears our plates and we are getting ready to leave, Esteban's shoulders relax almost imperceptibly. He extends his hand again. "I appreciate your candor, Vlad. Rest assured, we're committed to finding who's responsible for the... incident."

I grasp his hand, feeling the tension in his grip. Our eyes lock, a silent agreement passing between us. "Good," I say. "And Shtyk?"

"My men are searching," Esteban replies, releasing my hand. "We'll find him."

I nod. "Hopefully soon."

As I exit the restaurant, the cool night air hits my face. I savor it for a moment. Nights like this will be a rarity in this city when the heat comes. I slide into the waiting car, Ivan already behind the wheel. My mind races, replaying every nuance of the conversation with Esteban.

I pull out my phone, fingers hovering over the screen. Nico. The thought of him sends an unexpected thrill through me. Dangerous, but... pleasant.

11 PM. I have a room at Eclipse

I type, then pause before sending the message. Too public? Too risky? Too needy? I delete it, try again.

11 PM. Room 2103. Eclipse

I hitSendbefore I can second-guess myself. We've been meeting at his spots mostly. Never in the ones I set up.

"Where to, boss?" Ivan's gruff voice breaks through my thoughts.

I glance up, catching his concerned gaze in the rearview mirror.

"Are you texting him again?" he asks with a judging look in his eyes.

I don't grace his question with an answer.

Ivan's knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. "Vladimir," he starts, his tone thick with uncharacteristic hesitation, "about the Italian..."

I raise an eyebrow, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "What about him?"

Ivan exhales sharply. "It's not my place, but... he could be a spy. Getting close to you, gathering intel. It's textbook."

I've considered this possibility, of course, but hearing it from Ivan makes it feel more real, more dangerous.

"I appreciate your concern," I say, struggling to keep my emotions in check all of a sudden. "But I can handle him." Even if he is a spy. We made an agreement not to talk about our respective family matters. So far, neither one of us shared anything of importance with each other. Except for frequent orgasms.

"Can you?" Ivan challenges, his usual stoic demeanor cracking. "With all due respect, but you're not thinking clearly when it comes to him."

I close my eyes, trying to shove the confusion down. Ivan's right–Nico could be playing me. But the memory of his touch, his scent, the way he looked at me... it feels too raw, too real to be fake. Is he that good of an actor?

"Maybe..." I start, then stop mid-thought. An idea rushes through my mind.Maybe we need to be more discreet. The hotel is very exposed.

"So where to, then?"

With a decisive swipe, I unlock my phone again to see if Nico responded to my last text, but to Ivan I say, "The club."

CHAPTER12

NICO

The purr of the Maserati's engine fills my ears as I speed down the highway, the early morning sun glinting off the sleek black hood. My pulse quickens, anticipation thrumming through my veins as flashes of last night at Eclipse play through my mind unbidden.

My cock hardens with every memory of my Russiangattino's body against mine. His hands on my hips, his lips devouring mine, the taste of the expensive vodka still on his tongue.

Fuck.

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