Page 16 of Mafia King

Nikolai reaches up and rolls the balaclava back onto his forehead. Cool night air touches his face through the open window.

“Take most of the bags to the vault out of town,” Nikolai says. “Standard procedure. One bag stays with me.”

Xander glances sideways, the corner of his mouth lifting under the residual tension of the raid…

“Planning on giving it to your new mystery boy?”

Nikolai turns his head just enough to meet Xander’s eyes. His voice stays light, but the edge underneath is unmistakable.

“I still have at least a round of bullets left in this gun unless you shut up,” Nikolai growls.

Xander laughs properly this time and returns his attention to the road. The convoy splits at the next junction, one vehicle peeling off toward the long route that leads to the secure vault outside the city limits, the other continuing toward the quieter residential streets where Nikolai keeps his townhouse.

Nikolai rides in silence for a while, the single bag of stones resting at his feet. The weight of it is solid, satisfying. Yet his mind is already drifting elsewhere…

Theo.

He can still feel the warmth of the boy’s hand in his from the park that morning. The way he had blushed when he mentioned putting him over his lap. The quiet challenge in his questions. The easy way he matched him length for length in the pool.

Nikolai does not know exactly what he is, or what he wants, but the pull toward Theo is already stronger than it has any right to be after only two meetings.

A burning curiosity rises in Nikolai… what Theo is doing right now, whether he is thinking about the morning the same way he is, whether that shy smile will still be there the next time he sees the boy.

Nikolai also burns to know whether Theo is involved with any other men, on any level be it casual or slightly more serious. Theo can only belong to him, there is no compromise, no meeting in the middle.

The thought sits warm beneath the leftover adrenaline of the raid. He pushes it down for the moment.

First things first.

The SUV slows as it enters the tree-lined street of his neighborhood.

Lights are low. Nearly all of the houses are dark.

Xander brings the vehicle to a stop a discreet distance from the townhouse and waits while Nikolai steps out with the bag.

“Good work tonight,” Nikolai says.

Xander gives a short nod and pulls away without another word. Nikolai walks the last stretch alone, the bag heavy in one hand, the night quiet around him.

Inside the townhouse he resets the locks and the metal barricade, sets the bag of stones on the kitchen island, and pours a generous measure of vodka into a heavy glass.

“Here’s to diamonds,” Nikolai says, toasting himself.

He drinks standing at the counter, the burn clean and familiar. The Rossinis have been reminded of their place. The west side remains his more than ever.

And somewhere across the city a sharp-eyed boy named Theo is already occupying more of his thoughts than any young man has in a long time.

Nikolai takes another slow swallow and lets the quiet of the house settle around him.

The night has been useful.

Productive.

But there’s something missing.

And his name is Theo.

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