But Conor’s mouth is still swollen and bruised from the last punch I landed, and it seems to sense my very real ire. He lifts his hands in supplication.
“Oh, Jesus,” Conor groans, “I didn’t sign up for naked rage, dude. Chill! I’m not an idiot, mostly.”
“Mostly?” I hiss. “Mostly what? Mostly dumb?”
He scrambles back, still grinning like a smartass. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave! I swear. Scout’s honor. Kinda.”
I stalk closer.
“I mean, Icantry,” he backpedals. “As long as there’s no strippers, or booze, or?—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” I snap.
Conor freezes mid-word, swallows hard. “Okay. Okay! Noted. Crystal clear.”
“You want tolivethrough tonight?” I mutter. “Then do exactly as you’re told. No questions. One wrong move, and you’re done.”
He laughs nervously, eyes darting.
“Boss—I mean, Captain! You aren’t serious, right? This isn’t a full-on murder-threat situation… Right?”
“You. Stay. On. The. Path,” I growl.
“Okay,” he says placatingly. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
“Dominic will assure it,” I say.
In response, Dominic gives Conor a wolf’s smile, feral and full of killing promise. It’s the same smile I’ve seen him use countless times, usually just before sending someone to a hospital bed or worse.
Conor flinches, and I can’t help but smirk.
My thoughts are already drifting. I’m taut with a low-burning anticipation that I’ve never felt for anyone, especially for someone I’ve only met behind a mask, in shadows, in stolen moments.
I want her again. I want tofeelher move, touch her in ways I haven’t yet but already ache for.
I want toholdher attention. I want to claim those fleeting minutes where she is mine, even if only for a heartbeat.
Her scent, soft and sweet, with that underlying spark of desire, clings to me in memory, making me forget to breathe. Her hands, gentle but sure on me, gnaw at my patience.
Conor’s knee bounces wildly in the back of the limousine, a jittery metronome of nervous energy, like a teen on his way to prom. I might find it as amusing as hell if I weren’t already distracted.
Because my mind isn’t on Conor, it isn’t on the city lights flashing past the tinted windows.
My focus is on the club, on Ana.
8
NIK
My staff knows betterthan to call me ‘Boss.’
And they sure as hell know not to act like I own the place when I’m in it.
Conor won’t figure out my double life. Even if he did sniff something off, he’d never piece it together that this club is just one link in the chain of businesses I run off-ice.
He’s too clean-cut for that.
He pays his taxes. Calls his mom every Sunday. Coaches kids’ hockey in the off-season.
