He's wearing a dark suit, no tie, the collar open at the throat, and he moves with the unhurried confidence of a man who has never once had to wonder whether he's the most dangerousperson in any room he enters. The sheer physical mass of his body answers the question for him.
He's beautiful and desirable, and his mere presence makes me want to shove down my jeans and bend over the table.
The thought arrives without permission and I crush it immediately, shove it into the same locked compartment where I keep everything other dumb thought that could get me killed.
"Everyone out," he says. "Viktor stays."
His voice goes through me low and even, the way his scent did, right into my chest, my stomach, lower. I press my hands flat against the table because I will not let them shake. Not here. Not in front of him.
The two security men leave. The door closes. The room gets smaller.
There are two of them now.Himand the man who came in behind him. The other alpha is older, wider, with a face carved from granite. Viktor. I file the name away. Information is the only currency I have and right now I am very, very poor.
The alpha pulls out the chair across from me. He sits. The distance between us becomes four feet of table and nothing else, and his scent intensifies with proximity until I can feel it on my skin, warm and heavy.
He picks up my ID and turns it over. His fingers are long and his hands are steady. I can’t help noticing the way his forearms look where he's rolled his sleeves back, the dark hair on his wrists, the width of his hands.
Stop it. Stop it.It’s just pheromones. It’s just my body doing what evolution designed it to do, which is identify a compatible mate.
He sets the ID down and looks at me.
Eye contact is a mistake. His eyes are dark and when they meet mine, my body does something catastrophic. A full-system surge starts in my gut and floods upward, tightening my chest,heating my face, sending another rush of slick that I can feel and God, if I can feel it then he can probably smell it and if he can smell it then—
"Nice to meet you, Theo Holland," he says.
Every molecule of air leaves my lungs and I know who he is: Dominic Novikov. My prime match. He has to be.
I don't react. I have been not-reacting for years and I am exceptional at it. My face is a wall. But something happens, perhaps some fractional shift in my scent that my body produces without my consent, because his eyes change. A certainty settles into them that wasn't there a second ago.
"Theo Holland," he says again, quieter. Not a question.
The room is very still. Viktor, by the door, has gone completely motionless. I can feel him watching, reading the situation with the same detached calculation I'd use on a deck of cards.
My mouth is dry. My hands are still flat on the table.
I don’t bother to correct him. He knows my real name. Pretending he doesn’t isn’t going to do me any favors.
He leans back in his chair. “How long have you been counting?"
Pretending I’m something I’m not isn’t going to help me either. "A few years, but I was about to leave. Not come back for a long time. I’m more than happy to still do that."
Novikov looks at Viktor. Viktor's expression doesn't change. “Sure,” he says. “Why my casino?"
Something’s wrong. I’m obviously small fry. I’m not even worth making an example of. He should not be asking me questions. I should have been shoved out the door with a stern word. Maybe a roughing up if I were unlucky. How did he know I was here? Did he scent me somehow?
I don’t think he did. He seemed as surprised as I was when he walked in this room. They grabbed me for card counting,but that doesn’t make sense either. I shouldn’t have the boss interrogating me.
He raises his eyebrows. He’s waiting for an answer.
"I chose it for the same reason I choose any casino. It has high traffic and a busy floor. I didn't choose it because it was yours."
"You didn’t bother trying to find out who owned it?”
He thinks I came here on purpose. Because it washis.
"No."
He raises his eyebrows again. He’s still looking at me, making eye contact. I can’t help it. I look away.
