“The point is, you clearly like him. He definitely likes you,” Archer said. “So, what’s the problem? This is a graduate program for baby psychopaths and their professional babysitters. We’re not teaching high schoolers. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Park’s eyes went wide, and he scoffed. “What’s the worst that can happen? Seriously? Have you forgotten why Gift is with me in the first place?”
While Park had shaken off the immense obligation that came with caring about others years ago, there had been one person who somehow scaled the impenetrable force field he’d built around himself.
Anchali.
“His mother is one of my closest friends,” Park lamented, flopping farther back into the uncomfortable chair and taking another sip. He gave a grumpy look to the others. “Clearly, my only friend.”
“Maybe she’s your only friend because you only have two settings: robot or dramatic, horny, teenager?” West said, then snagged the bottle from Park to take another heavy pull.
Park ignored him, wishing he could talk to Anchali about this. She would have sage advice. But he could hardly call her up and tell her he was fantasizing about seducing her only child.
He and Anchali had clicked right away. There was something about her that Park had understood. In a way, they were kindred spirits, focusing more on getting the job done than who was hurt in the process. They’d made a good team. She’d been a far better handler than Kendrick ever had, which Park suspected was part of the reason Kendrick had benched her. A small part.
Anchali was…hot and cold. Hard and soft. She was fiercely loyal to her country, laser focused on her career. Her marriage had been arranged by her parents, and she hadn’t cared enough about it to fight the old-fashioned practice. She’d liked Satja enough to have him as a lifetime companion. She said it kept things simple. Convenient.
But having a baby hadn’t been in her plans—it hadn’t been in any oftheirplans. Spies didn’t have unplanned pregnancies and stay on the job. Anchali had wanted to end it, but Satja had made it clear that abortion wasn’t an option.
Which was how Gift came into the world. An accident. Not that he would ever know that. Nor would he know that Anchali had almost lost him the night he was born, suffering a gunshot wound that would have taken both her and the baby out if it had been two millimeters higher.
She’d recovered quickly, but it had given Kendrick the perfect excuse to put her into a boring desk job. A punishment for not being in love with him. But it didn’t matter. Anchali had vowed she would never love anything more than Gift, but she’d also known he would never be safe with her, even at her boring desk job. So, instead, she’d sent him to the finest boarding schools and given him anything he could ever want. It should have turned Gift into a spoiled brat.
But, somehow, it had done just the opposite.
Gift was sweet. Soft. Pretty in a way no boy had a right to be. He was also fiercely smart, exceedingly loyal, and obedient to his own detriment. Obedient in a way that made Park want to test the boundaries of his compliance. Just how far did that need to please extend?
Christ. This was why Park had no right to touch someone like Gift. He would simply corrupt him. Drag him down into the depraved fantasies that haunted his dreams.
“Gift isn’t a baby,” Archer said. “Hell, his mother might be grateful if you two ended up together, considering the alternatives.”
Park looked at Archer like he’d grown two heads. There was no universe where Anchali would be okay with Park being with Gift. And she shouldn’t be. Park had no right to someone so pure.
“How am I going to keep this up long term?” Park muttered.
“Pardon?” Boone asked.
“How do I keep my hands off him?” Park asked again.
“You could have him switch pods?” Archer said. “But you’d have to transfer Payton, too. They’re already bonded. If you take that boy’s comfort object, there will be a trail of bodies from here to Vegas in less than a week.”
Archer was right. Payton was unpredictable—one of the only students who’d arrived with a body count. For all intents and purposes, he should have never been allowed in the program, but Boone had made an exception for him, though nobody really knew why.
“I…can’t do that,” Park said. “I made a promise. I need to keep him close.”
When Anchali had asked him to watch over Gift, he should have made an excuse. They could have found someone else to protect their son. Given the danger of their jobs, the boy never should have been without security, anyway. It wasn’t like they couldn’t afford it. But it had never occurred to Park to say no to the friends he’d known half his life.
But, in his defense, it had also never occurred to Park that the chubby little kid he’d caught glimpses of off and on throughout the years would grow up to be as alluring as he was. He was like Park’s darkest desires come to life. Both perfectly innocent and impossibly bewitching.
“Close?” West said, voice smug. “I bet.”
“Fuck you,” Park muttered.
West grinned. “Nah, fuck him. You’ll feel better.”
Why did people keep saying that to him?
That was never going to happen. Not in a million years. Park was just going to have to get used to being perpetually sexually frustrated.
