Page 25 of Mafia King

From the top drawer he pulls out a pair of snug pale-blue pajamas: soft cotton pants and a matching button-up top that sits close without being tight. The fabric feels comforting against his skin as he slips them on.

It’s nothing fancy. Just the familiar weight of clean clothes and the quiet of his own space. And often that’s just how Theo likes it.

Theo should sleep. His eyes are heavy and the bed is only a few steps away. Instead his mind keeps turning over every detail of the evening: the way Nikolai had looked at the red marks on his ass, the controlled heat of his tongue, the long kiss on the balcony with his hand resting lightly around his throat.

And the way he had simply nodded when he said he would stay for a movie, then told him to take a cab home as if the instruction itself were non-negotiable. Nikolai is used to giving orders, and doesn’t expect for a second that anyone will disobey him.

“Who is this man?” Theo mutters.

Theo picks up Maximus from his place against the pillows and climbs onto the bed, tucking the faded blue friend under one arm. The iPad rests on the nightstand. He powers it on, scrolls past the usual options, and opens an old Disney film he has watched a hundred times… Lady and the Tramp.

“Ahhh,” Theo exhales.

The soft opening music fills the quiet bedroom. Theo settles back against the pillows, Maximus held close to his chest, and tries to let the familiar animation pull him under.

It does not work for long.

Halfway through the scene in the park his thoughts drift sideways again. Nikolai’s face surfaces… the dark eyes, the controlled stillness, the way he had watched Theo while he took him in his mouth.

No other man has ever touched him the way Nikolai does.

No other man has ever made Theo’s body respond so completely while his mind stays sharp and calculating at the same time.

Nikolai is handsome in a way that feels dangerous rather than safe. He can read the shift in Theo’s breathing, the way his thighs tighten, the exact moment he tips from defiance into need. And Nikolai uses that knowledge without apology.

Theo’s fingers tighten around Maximus.

But Nikolai is the target.

This is business only.

The reminder lands like a cold stone in his stomach. Tracker is paying him more than he has ever earned in a single job. The money will buy Theo the kind of freedom he has wanted since the day he left the military with a dishonorable discharge and nothing but a few contacts and a talent for becoming whoever the client needed.

Feelings have no place in this equation. Attraction is a tool or a liability. Nothing more.

Theo lets out a sigh and stares at the iPad screen without really seeing it, the dilemma circling again and again.

Keep the distance.

Stay professional.

Extract whatever information is required and walk away clean.

Or let the heat Nikolai pulls from his body keep pulling until the lines blur past the point of recovery. The familiar weight of Maximus against his side pulls his thoughts further back, into a place he does not visit often.

MANY YEARS AGO

The late-afternoon sun sits warm across the small lake at the edge of Theo’s grandfather’s farm. Theo is eleven, barefoot, legs working the pedals of the little blue boat he bought him the summer before.

The water is calm and green, the air full of the smell of cut grass and the distant lowing of cattle.

Maximus—still new then, still bright blue—sits propped against the small bench seat opposite him, his button eyes watching the shore.

He is halfway across the lake when the sound of car doors carries over the water. Three men in dark suits are walking up the gravel path toward the garden at the rear. Theo’s grandfather stands on the steps near the lake, his expression fixed on the men, firm.

Theo has seen them before. He knows his grandfather does not like them, and that is enough for him to dislike them too.

This time the conversation does not stay calm.