Page 13 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

This isn't normal security for a rich man. This is something else entirely.

The elevator ride down is silent, and my mind is racing, finally starting to clear from the sexual fog. What have I gotten myself into?

When we reach the lobby, there are more armed men stationed near the doors, near the front desk, watching everyone who enters and exits. Nick walks me all the way outside, and the night air hits my face like a slap.

He nods at me and offers a rare smile, then turns and heads back into the building.

Across the street, leaning against a black SUV with his arms crossed, is Alex. He's watching me, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Our eyes meet, and even from this distance, I can see the intensity in his gaze.

My heart stops.

5

ALEXSEY "ALEX" LENKOV

I've been standing outside Nick's building for fifteen minutes, waiting for Russ to show up for this goddamn meeting.

The negotiations have been dragging on for three months now, and we're still stuck on the same fucking issues.

Territory redistribution, shipping routes through the port, and enforcement jurisdiction.

Every time we think we've got something settled, one of our captains raises hell about losing ground or getting squeezed out.

The merger makes sense on paper.

Three families consolidating into one syndicate would give us control over the entire eastern seaboard, eliminate internal competition, and present a unified front against the Italians moving in from the south.

But getting there means convincing thirty captains across three organizations that they're not getting fucked in the process.

It means redistributing power without triggering a rebellion, and doing all this as secretly as possible until we have things solidified.

Tonight's meeting is supposed to address the shipping routes.

Nick controls the northern docks, Russ has the southern ports, and my family runs the warehouses and distribution networks inland.

We need to figure out how to merge operations without stepping on each other's toes or pissing off the men who've been running those operations for years.

I check my watch. Russ is late, which isn't surprising. The kid's brilliant when it comes to strategy, but punctuality isn't his strong suit.

The night air is cool, and the street is quiet except for the occasional car passing by.

Nick's building is one of the tallest in the city, all glass and steel, with security that would make a military base jealous.

I count at least six armed men visible from where I'm standing, and I know there are twice that many I can't see.

I'm running through the numbers in my head, calculating how much revenue we'd gain from consolidated shipping operations, when the building's main entrance opens.

A woman steps out, and my brain registers her face before I can process why it matters. Red hair, blue eyes, and curves that I remember in vivid fucking detail. For the first time in years, I'm genuinely caught off guard.

Marla. My dick twitches in remembrance, and I shift slightly. I've taken women home before. Enjoyed our time together, fucked them, then carried on with my life.

But that night with Marla was different. For some reason, I haven't been able to get her out of my mind.

What the hell is she doing coming out of Nick's building at eleven o'clock at night?

The answer hits me like a punch to the gut, and I feel something cold settle in my chest. She's been with Nick.

Tonight.