Page 40 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

Before I can formulate a response, the fragile peace in the cottage shatters.

All three of their phones start ringing within seconds of each other.

The transformation is instant and terrifying.

One moment they're relaxed and comfortable in my space, and the next they're something else entirely. Something cold and dangerous.

Russ's playful expression vanishes, replaced by hard focus.

Alex's calm curiosity disappears, his body going tense and alert.

Nick's already rigid posture becomes even more controlled, his hand moving to his phone.

It's like watching masks drop, revealing what's underneath. And what's underneath is frightening.

Nick answers first, his voice clipped and professional. "Talk."

I watch as his entire body goes still. Not relaxed-still, but predator-still. The kind of stillness that comes before violence.

Russ and Alex are both on their phones now too, their voices low and controlled as they speak to whoever's on the other end.

I can't make out the words, but I can hear the tone. It's the same tone Nick is using.

Cold, businesslike, and dangerous.

My hands start shaking, and I set down my coffee mug before I drop it.

Nick ends his call first, and when he looks at Russ and Alex, his green eyes are completely devoid of the warmth that was there moments ago. "One of my captains was found beaten nearly to death early this morning," Nick says, his voice flat and emotionless. "He's in critical condition."

These men aren't just a little bit dangerous, I realize with a shudder as they leave my cottage without another word. In fact, they may be even more dangerous than I'd ever thought.

14

NICK

Time: Sunday morning

I leave Marla's cottage with my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache.

The drive back to the city should clear my head, but it doesn't. All I can think about is how spectacularly everything spiraled out of control last night.

I came to her cottage to confront a potential threat to the merger, and instead I ended up in her bed with Russ and Alex like some kind of fucking shared arrangement.

What the hell was I thinking?

I wasn't thinking.

That's the problem.

The moment she looked at me with those blue eyes, all wide and nervous and defiant at the same time, rational thought went out the window.

And now I'm driving away from her cottage feeling like I've crossed a line I can't uncross.

My hands grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white.

I've spent fifteen years building my organization through discipline and control, and last night I threw both of those things away for a woman I barely know.

Worse, I did it alongside Russ and Alex like we'd planned it, like we were all on the same page about sharing her.