I shrug, taking another drag. “Just checking in. Not holding it against me for running off again, are you? Your rut was over. Figured you’d had your fill.”
He snatches the cigarette back from my fingers, his movements quick and precise. He takes a final, deep pull before flicking the butt over the railing. It arcs down into the darkness below. “Have you never heard of bedside manners?”
A laugh bubbles up in my throat. “Bedside manners? You chained me to a bedpost and locked me in a cage. I don’t think Emily Post covers that chapter.”
“Get lost, then.” His voice is flat, final. He turns his body slightly away from me, presenting his profile as he stares back out at the city. A clear dismissal.
The bond in my chest gives a sharp, painful tug. I ignore it, leaning my hip against the cold railing. “Aw,” I coo, letting the mockery drip from the word. “Were your feelings hurt? Did I wound your delicate alpha pride by not sticking around for cuddles and pillow talk?”
His jaw works, a muscle ticking near his temple. His eyes cut toward me, dark and dangerous, but he doesn’t bite. He doesn’trise to it. He just turns fully away, his broad shoulders a wall of expensive black wool, and acts like I’ve ceased to exist.
I push off the railing to step into his space again. He doesn’t move, but I can feel the tension coiling in him, a spring pressed tight.
“Look,” I say, my tone shifting into something softer, almost conciliatory. I let my gaze drift over his face, taking in the tight line of his mouth, the storm brewing in his dark eyes. “There’s a hotel right around the corner. We could get a room. Let me make it up to you. Help you... unwind. Properly.”
His head turns slowly. The look he gives me isn’t just disgusted; it’s incredulous, like I’ve just suggested we go build a sandcastle together. “Not a chance.”
I don’t back off. If anything, I lean in closer, until the expensive wool of his tuxedo jacket brushes my worn leather one. I can smell his cologne, something dark and expensive, and underneath it, the clean, sharp scent of his skin. My grin turns wicked. “Okay, fine. Forget the room.” I jerk my chin toward the shadowy service alley that runs alongside the building. “We could go around back. Quick and dirty. Just how you like it.”
His eyes narrow. He takes a deliberate step backward, putting space between us. I match him, step for step, my boots scuffing quietly on the concrete. The predatory gleam in my eyes must finally register, because his expression shifts from annoyance to wary comprehension. He’s realizing I’m not just talking. I might actually try something here, in the open, on this fancy terrace.
He takes another step back. His heel hits the low base of the terrace railing. He’s cornered.
For a second, we just stare at each other. The hum of the city below feels very far away. Then, to my absolute and utter delight, Suha does something I’ve never seen him do before.
He sidesteps quickly and retreats.
Not a collected withdrawal. Not a strategic repositioning. He turns and walks, briskly and with purpose, back toward the glass doors leading into the hotel.
A laugh bursts out of me, loud and startled. He’s running away. Yoon Suha, the head of the Phantom Lotus Syndicate, is literally fleeing from my proposition.
The hilarity of it fuels me. I’m after him in an instant, my longer legs eating up the distance. He shoves through a side door instead of going back to the main event, hitting a dimly lit service stairwell. His expensive dress shoes slap against the concrete steps as he takes them two at a time. He’s fast, I’ll give him that. But I’m faster, and I know how to move in places like this.
I don’t follow him down. I swing over the railing, dropping to the landing below just as he reaches it. He skids to a halt, his eyes flashing with pure irritation. I grin, spreading my arms wide. “Going somewhere?”
He mutters a curse under his breath and reverses direction, heading back up. I’m right behind him, my laughter echoing in the hollow space. He bursts out onto a different terrace, this one cluttered with stacked patio furniture covered in tarps. He weaves through them like a sprinter, a man possessed. A billionaire crime boss in a tailored tuxedo, dodging around ghostly furniture shapes while being chased by a laughing idiot in a leather jacket.
He makes for another stairwell at the far end. I cut across, planting myself at the top of the steps. He changes direction again, heading for the main building, but I’m herding him now, like a sheepdog with a single, very pissed-off sheep. He’s forced down a narrow access path between the hotel and the next building, a concrete canyon lit by a single buzzing security light.
He tries to double back, but I block the way, still grinning. He has no choice but to go deeper into the alley. It dead-ends at a high brick wall, stacked with pallets and dumpsters.
He turns to face me, his back to the wall. His chest is rising and falling just a little too quickly. His hair, so perfectly styled earlier, has a single dark lock fallen across his forehead. He looks furious and flustered, and it’s the best thing I’ve seen all week.
“Enough,” he snaps, the word cutting through the damp alley air.
“Aw, come on,” I purr, stepping into him. I press my body against his, pinning him to the rough brick with my weight. I can feel the solid heat of him through our clothes, the rapid beat of his heart. “You started it. Coming out here all alone, looking so tense. Someone should help you with that.”
He shoves at my shoulders, a hard, sharp movement meant to throw me off. I’m ready for it. I let the force of his push slide past me, twisting my body and using his own momentum to grab his wrists. I slam them back against the wall, above his head, holding them there. My fingers circle his wrists easily; they’re strong, but mine are stronger from years in the ring.
For a second, we’re frozen like that, chest to chest in the damp alley air. His eyes are pure fury, a dark storm I want to drown in. The bond in my chest squeezes tight, a hungry, approving pulse. This is exactly where I want to be.
“Slippery as a fucking eel,” Suha snarls. He tests my hold, his muscles corded and tense, but I don’t budge. His gaze flicks over my face, the anger shifting into something sharper, more calculating. “When did you get so aggressive?”
I don’t answer him with words. My grin just widens, all teeth.
Then I drop.
My knees hit the cold, gritty concrete with a jolt that I feel all the way up my spine. I don’t break eye contact as my hands fly to his belt, fingers working the polished buckle with a speed born of a lifetime of getting into and out of trouble. The click of the metal release is loud in the quiet alley. His zipper comes down with a harsh, decisive sound.
