I pull back first, forcing myself to stand. If I stay any longer, I will do something far more dangerous than touch his hand.
“I should go,” I say, already moving toward the door. “I will see you at the improv show tonight.”
He stands too, nodding quickly, still flushed. “Okay. Thank you for coming by. And… for bringing Bobby. That actually meant a lot.”
“Don’t mention it,” I say, a sly grin on my face. “Everyone deserves a chance to make things right when they screw up.”
I pause at the threshold, looking back at sexy young man one last time. He looks small in the doorway of his apartment, surrounded by the colorful traces of his Little side, yet there issteel in him too—the same steel that made him confront me at the SUV.
“Until tonight, Teddy.”
I close the door gently behind me and head down the stairs. Bobby is waiting in the car, scrolling on his phone. I slide in beside him and give the driver the signal to go.
The pull toward Teddy grows stronger every time I see him. I told myself I would keep my distance for his safety, but one look at that hopeful face and I folded. Tonight I will watch him perform. I will sit in the audience like a normal man instead of the pakhan I am.
But I know the truth.
The war is coming. Threats are circling. And every moment I allow myself closer to him is another risk.
Still, as the SUV pulls away from his building, I cannot stop the faint smile that touches my lips.
I am going to watch Teddy perform tonight.
And for a few hours, I will let myself pretend that a man like me can have something soft and bright in his life without destroying it.
Chapter 9
Teddy
The lights on the small stage feel warmer than usual tonight, or maybe it is just the adrenaline still buzzing through my veins.
I stand with the rest of the improv cast, all of us slightly sweaty and breathless, bowing deeply as the audience applauds. The theater is packed for a weeknight, maybe forty or fifty people crammed into the intimate space with its mismatched chairs and fairy lights strung across the ceiling.
Someone whistles, and a few others cheer. We’ve gone down well and I can feel the love from the audience in a way that makes me feel all warm inside.
“Let’s do it,” Andy, the group leader says. “Let’s show these guys we love them too!”
We straighten up and start clapping right back at them, shouting thank-yous over the noise.
“Great suggestions tonight, folks! You made us look good!” I call out, grinning so wide my cheeks hurt. The final scene—a ridiculous alien cooking show gone wrong—landed perfectly, and the laughter still echoes in my ears.
As the applause dies down and people start gathering their things, my eyes scan the crowd out of habit, looking for familiar faces. Skeet couldn’t make it tonight, but that’s okay. What I am really searching for is taller, broader, and far more intimidating…
And there he is.
Near the rear, leaning against the back wall with a drink in his hand, stands Kirill. Even in the dim lighting, he stands out—dark shirt stretched across those powerful shoulders, expression calm and unreadable.Neutral.
My stomach does a nervous flip.
Did he hate it?
Was the silly humor too much for a man like him?
Improv comedy is chaotic and ridiculous on purpose, but maybe it felt childish to someone who runs… whatever quote unquoteserious businesshe runs.
I hop down from the low stage, weaving through the thinning crowd with my heart pounding harder than it did during the performance. When I reach him, I tuck my hands behind my back to hide how they are shaking a little.
“Hey,” I say, trying to sound casual even though my voice comes out breathy. “You came.”
