Page 11 of Mafia King

The response lands exactly as Theo intended. Yet even as he leans a fraction closer, Theo feels the darker undercurrent.

Nikolai is handsome, yes. Enigmatic in a way that draws rather than pushes. But there is far more to him than a solitary man in a quiet bar…

The weight of it sits behind every careful word Nikolai chooses, every measured glance.

Theo already suspected that was no ordinary corporate espionage job. He’s sure of that now. And the realization settles cold and clear beneath the residual heat of the vodka.

Whatever Tracker wants from Nikolai, the stakes are higher than photographs or account numbers. But that’s all part of the game. Theo knows he is being paid potentially life changing money for this job.

Whoever Nikolai really is, it doesn’t matter.

What Tracker wants, that matters little either.

For Theo, this is all about him. And with that in mind, he keeps his smile soft and his posture open, already adjusting the game in his mind…

A few drinks later the night has thinned around them. Theo and Nikolai stand just outside the bar, the cool air sharp against the residual warmth of the vodka.

Streetlights throw long shadows across the pavement. Theo watches the set of Nikolai’s shoulders, the way he keeps his hands loose at his sides, and tries to read the mood.

“Are you heading somewhere else?” Theo asks, keeping his tone light, curious rather than expectant.

“Only home,” Nikolai answers.

The two words land clean and final.

No opening.

No invitation.

Whatever interest Nikolai has shown inside stays firmly inside. Theo registers it at once.

This is not a man who can be steered easily. Control sits on Nikolai like a second skin. Theo adjusts without missing a beat…

“I’ll call a cab,” he says. “Go join some friends across town. The night’s still young for some of us.”

Nikolai glances toward the curb.

“My driver will take you. Then he’ll circle back for me.”

“It’s no trouble. I can grab an Uber.”

“He’ll take you. And you’ll give him your number too, so that he can pass it on to me.”

Nikolai’s insistence is quiet but absolute. Theo meets his eyes for a second, then simply nods.

Deferring costs nothing and keeps the door open for later, especially with Nikolai’s desire to get his phone number.

The black SUV glides to a stop almost on cue. Nikolai opens the rear door. Theo slides in, gives the driver an address for a well-known club several blocks away, and settles against the leather.

Nikolai closes the door with a solid thud, lifts one hand in a brief wave, and turns back toward the bar without looking over his shoulder.

The vehicle pulls away into the night, the engine quiet.

Theo’s mind races the moment the bar disappears behind them. The meeting had gone as planned on the surface: shots shared, conversation kept light, interest carefully fed.

But the man himself is denser, more guarded than the usual targets. Theo watches the city lights slide past the tinted glass and lets his thoughts drift backward.

MANY YEARS AGO: