I meet Zakhar's eyes. Hold his gaze while everything inside me trembles with anticipation and defiance and want.
"Join us," I say.
An invitation.
His eyes darken. His breathing changes. His hand tightens on the doorframe.
Then he steps into the room and closes the door behind him.
29
ZAKHAR
I arrive home feeling like I've been chasing ghosts.
Three days. Three days of following leads that go nowhere. Three days of shaking down informants who know nothing. Three days of surveillance on locations that yield no results.
Eryan Nis is a phantom. No one knows who he is. No one's seen him. No one can give me anything concrete beyond rumors and speculation.
And meanwhile, our businesses are bleeding. Our security guard is still in the hospital. Our enemies are circling like sharks who've smelled blood in the water.
The frustration sits in my chest like a stone. Heavy. Sharp-edged. Impossible to dislodge.
I'm exhausted. Not just tired. Exhausted down to my bones, in a way that makes every movement require conscious effort.
The house is quiet when I enter. Dark except for a few security lights. Maksim is probably still at the office, pursuing his own lines of investigation. Alexei could be anywhere.
And then I realize what I'm really feeling beneath the exhaustion and frustration.
I miss Victoria.
The thought surfaces with startling clarity. Not just desire, though that's certainly present. But actual missing. The particular ache of wanting someone's presence and not having it.
I've spent three days away from her. Three days of brief encounters in hallways, distracted greetings when I'm coming or going, stolen moments that feel inadequate compared to what I actually want.
Her.
I move through the house without conscious thought. My feet carry me toward her room because that's where my body wants to be. Where I need to be.
Her door is slightly ajar. Light spills into the hallway.
I approach quietly. Years of training making my footsteps silent even when I'm not trying to be stealthy.
Then I see them.
Victoria is on the bed, straddling Alexei's hips. Her hair falls over her shoulders like dark water. Alexei's hands are on her waist, sliding up her ribs toward her breasts.
They're kissing. Deep. Passionate. The kind of kiss that's a prelude to more.
I freeze in the doorway.
And wait for jealousy. Wait for possessiveness. Wait for some territorial instinct to flare up and demand exclusivity.
It doesn't come.
Instead, arousal slams into me with devastating force. Desire tightening low in my belly, making my cock hard in seconds.
They're beautiful together. Alexei's tanned skin against her lighter tone. His hands on her body. The way she moves against him. The sounds they're making.
