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“When will I see you again?”

I should tell her soon. Tomorrow. I won’t be able to stay away for long without my hands itching to feel her skin.

Instead, I give her the only answer I’m willing to offer.

“When you’re needed.”

Her gaze drops, her brow furrowing. Disappointment. Fear of what she doesn’t know. I’d like to keep it that way.

When her eyes meet mine again, I know she wants more. A goodnight kiss, perhaps. Something a gentleman might offer.

“Go inside,” I say.

She doesn’t move right away.

Neither do I.

Then I lower myself into the shaft and close the hatch between us, leaving her in the dark.

The crack of billiard balls draws me into the game room. Low light hangs over the green felt, leaving the rest of the area in shadow. Dark wood paneling climbs the walls, scarred by decades of competition turned violent because no Crotavere man understands the dignity of losing quietly. This room has watched generations of Crotaveres circle each other like animals, pretending the game is just a game.

Reese and Tristan are on one side of the table. Marcus and Lucian on the other.

I cross to the bar, undo the top two buttons of my shirt, and pour myself two fingers of bourbon.

Reese looks up first, leaning on his cue like he’s trying to punch a hole through the floor.

“Still time to change your mind.”

There it is.

No hello. No small talk. Straight to judgment.

“She signed the contract. It’s done. Get over it.”

“She’s never done anything like this before. Everyone will smell weakness on her.” His eyes stay on mine. “And if she makes you hesitate, they’ll smell it on you too.”

I take a sip. “No one has done anything like this before. It’s a ridiculous game of who’s the better fuck.”

Lucian snorts. “She’ll be eaten alive.”

Reese shoots him a look, but Lucian doesn’t back off.

“She’s a baby and too sheltered. She’s a fuckin’ virgin.” His mouth twists. “You really think that’s who should be standing beside you?”

My jaw tightens.

Tristan finally speaks, still rubbing chalk into the tip of his cue.

“Whether she should be or not doesn’t matter now. You need to make sure she impresses.” He glances over at me. “If she walks into that circle looking uncertain, they’ll tear her apart. The Elders won’t tolerate sentiment.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not sentimental.”

Marcus laughs under his breath and circles the table. “Is that so? Because from where I’m standing, you look pretty fucking sentimental.”

He sinks a striped ball clean into the corner pocket and grins like that proves his point.

I take a drink and say nothing.