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I sit on the edge of the bed and try to pick through every snippet of conversation and every detail of the staff.

But every attempt at analysis circles back to Orien’s lips on my glass, the heat he left at my nape, and the solid warmth of his thigh alongside mine.

This has nothing to do with the mission, and my stomach clenches at the realization.

I strip off my sweater and lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My body is too warm, too alive, the places where he touched me now branded on my skin.

This is an unacceptable deviation from the mission parameters.

The heat building since the club has nowhere left to go, my dick hardening within the fabric of my trousers, an ache settling at the base of my spine.

With a curse, I shove my trousers down and wrap a hand around myself, my breath coming out uneven.

I work myself slowly at first, jaw tight, trying to keep the fantasy abstract, but Orien slips into it anyway, pale eyes fixed on me with unnerving stillness.

Slick gathers at my entrance, warmth gathering on the sheets, and the sensation pulls a whine from my throat that I don’t bother suppressing. I stroke faster, hips lifting off the mattress, the ache deepening into a desire for more than my own hand.

I want weight, pressure, to be held in place and fucked until I can’t think.

I come with my teeth pressed into my lower lip, body shuddering through it, slick soaking the sheets beneath me as cum pumps onto my stomach. For a moment, the world narrows to nothing but release and heat and the sound of my own breathing in the quiet room.

Afterward, I lie there, chest rising and falling, staring at the ceiling. Then the irritation arrives, and I sit up, wipe my hand on my soiled trousers, and try to recenter myself.

Orien is a target. Lee is not real, nor are his desires.

I need a shower. A long one. Then I need to remind myself why I’m here. Not for Orien Bellamy’s attention, however flattering.

I’m here for my family—for Alexei, the only person who’s ever seen me as more than a designation or a potential liability.

The mission doesn’t change. But as I gather clean clothes and head for the bathroom, I can’t shake the sense that something fundamental has shifted.

That the game I thought I was playing has rules I don’t fully understand.

And for the first time since stepping into my role in the family, I’m not sure I can win.

4

My hand clenches around the strap of my laptop bag as I head for the entrance of the Blue Note on Tuesday.

The data leak is a trail I can’t search from my apartment, and I’m tired of staring at the walls. The silence only amplifies the memory of that sizzle of awareness when my stare first met Orien’s, a connection that can’t be allowed.

I had to get out. Research says the Blue Note never truly closes, with regulars going in and out of the bar at all hours of the day and night. A different crowd might offer a new thread to pull. It’s a long shot, but better than letting my own thoughts splinter.

The infiltration needs to bear fruit, and soon.

As I reach for the handle, I hold my breath, half expecting our intel to be wrong. The windows appear dark from the outside, the neon ‘Open’ sign unlit, and no hours are posted. I brace for resistance, for a locked door to turn me away. But the handle gives, the door swinging inward as smoothly as it has every other night.

I straighten my spine, stepping across the threshold with an ease I don’t feel, another regular returning to his haunt.

My laptop bag bumps a steady rhythm against my hip. I’d toned down the usual Lee persona in deference to the daylight, wearing an oversized crewneck over dark skinny jeans, the same sparkly barrette holding my hair back. I touch the flat silver disk on my nape guard, a subtle replacement for the flashy jewel I’ve been wearing.

Now to find my first target.

Kain sits at a table off to the side, focused on the tablet the Omega beside him holds. He laughs, the sound carrying across the quiet room, and it draws me closer.

So, no jukebox for the daytime.

The Omega ducks his head, shoulders curling inward to protect the sleek device in his hands, but his knee touches Kain’s under the table.