Page 2 of Nikolay

My hands clenched at my sides. Not visibly, not enough for a human eye perhaps, but enough that the tendons drew hard beneath my skin. “A decision,” I repeated.

“Yes.”

“She is a guest.”

“She was a guest. Now she is an employee.”

“She is a wolf from Texas.”

He gave a slight shrug. “And?”

The single word landed with all the smooth offensiveness he intended. It forced me to hear myself as he must have heard me—old blood, old prejudices, old hierarchies hastily dressed in practical language. I despised that he could do that. I despised more that I could not say he was entirely wrong.

“And this is Obsidian,” I said, as if that settled anything. “Not a roadside bar off a state highway.”

One dark brow arched. “No, it is considerably more selective. Which is why I hired someone useful.”

“I asked why she is here.”

“And I answered.”

“No,” I said, taking another step until the desk stood between us like a formal barrier in some antique court. “You told me you had a position available, and you happened to hire someone. That was not reasoning. That was the procedure.”

At that, his mouth curved a little wider. He enjoyed this version of me. Not because he enjoyed my pain—though I would not have put some measure of brotherly cruelty past him—but because he enjoyed seeing the one brother least likely to lose his balance shoved toward the edge.

“Very well,” he said. “You would like the business case.”

I said nothing. My silence was consent enough.

He lifted a hand and began counting off points on his fingers with infuriating calm.

“She has a degree in restaurant management and years of experience at Pearl’s Bar & Grill,” he said. “Not Obsidian, no, but high-volume service in a mixed environment where the clientele ranged from local men half in love with their own opinions to pack officers who expected immediate competence. She handled all of them without incident.”

I stared at him. He continued.

“She is quick. Quicker than she initially appears, which is useful. She reads temperaments well. In three nights, I watched her defuse one inebriated vampire, redirect a witch who wished to start a public scene with her companion, and charm a demon into paying a tab he had hoped to contest.”

His tone remained maddeningly neutral, each sentence delivered with the precision of a man reciting inventory. Yet beneath that precision I heard the relish. He knew exactly how every word struck me. He knew that each quality he named was one I had already observed and resented in private.

“She does not intimidate easily,” he went on. “She learns quickly, asks intelligent questions, remembers preferences after being told once, and possesses the sort of warmth that makes patrons linger. You know as well as I do that another round is often purchased because a room feels welcoming before it feels expensive.”

My jaw tightened further. I could almost see him placing each point in a row like polished knives.

“Her formal training will come in handy,” he added. “Restaurant management is a valuable skill, if memory serves. Which means she is not merely carrying drinks in that very upsetting skirt. She is evaluating traffic flow, staff behavior, client rhythm, and where my floor loses money.”

“My floor?” I asked softly.

He inclined his head. “The family’s floor, then, if that preserves your delicate sensibilities.”

I ignored that. “You put a wolf shifter newly arrived from Texas in one of the most politically charged supernatural spaces on the eastern seaboard because she has a degree and can smile through trouble?”

“I put a competent woman in a position she requested because she earned the chance in the interview and confirmed it on the floor.”

“You interviewed her.”

“I do sometimes engage in hiring before placing staff in my establishment.”

There was no purpose in glaring at him, yet I did it anyway. He met it with the serene patience of a man admiring the weather from indoors.