“Come,” he says quietly.
He turns first, opening the office door and I step out into the noise beyond.
Because whatever just shifted between is something I don’t think we can walk back from.
Chapter 25
Maksim
Isaid too much.
But I regret nothing.
Most women either try too hard or shrink when they try to walk beside me.
She does neither.
I don’t bring women into this side of my world. They knowofme, but they don’t know me.
With Ayla, my hand is already on her back, guiding her out of the office like it belongs there. And it does.
Vaska ran her, she checks out.
She wants to stay. So she can.
Noise rolls through the casino floor—cards shuffling, glass clinking, money changing hands as we reach the main floor.
I glance at her.
A quick, assessing sweep.
The dress fits her like it was made for her. It hugs her waist, skims her hips, falls just above the knee in a way that’s elegant without screaming for attention. Practical for a night here, but still dangerous. Her hair brushes her shoulder blades. She even did her makeup and it fucking lights up her face.
Makes it hard not to look.
She fits.
I guide her toward the high-stakes poker table, where Mayor Olson is holding court like he owns the velvet ropes.
Heads turn when we pass. All eyes on her.Because of her.
He spots me before we’re halfway there. He stands and straightens his tie. That politician smile snaps into place—too wide, too practiced. His eyes flick to Ayla, linger a second too long, then snap back to me.
“Maksim,” he says, voice carrying just enough warmth to pretend we’re old friends. “Good to see you. And…?” He gestures toward her, expectant.
I don’t introduce her.
Instead, I pull out the empty chair to his left and nod at it.
“Sit,” I murmur in Ayla’s ear, my hand firm at the small of her back as she lowers herself into the seat. I peel a banded stack of chips off the tray a hostess brings over and set it in front of her. “You’re playing.”
Her eyes flick up to me, quick and sharp. There’s a spark there.
She’s interested. And I’m curious to watch.
The dealer glances between us, then begins to shuffle, cards snapping against felt.
Olsen clears his throat. “You’re not sitting in?”
