Page 24 of Mafia King

“Can we see your real home from here?”

Nikolai chuckles. “Nice try, young man.”

Nikolai turns Theo toward him with a hand at his waist. The kiss he gives Theo is long and deliberate… slow enough to feel tender, deep enough to claim.

At the same time his other hand rises and settles lightly around the front of his throat, thumb resting against the side of his neck.

Not squeezing.

Simply holding.

Possessive.

Nikolai feels the way Theo’s breath catches, the way his body softens into the touch instead of pulling away.

The boy craves this. The dominance wrapped inside the sensual. Nikolai registers it with quiet satisfaction and deepens the kiss for another moment before easing back.

“One moment,” Nikolai says.

His phone vibrates once in his pocket—an urgent pattern only a handful of people use.

Nikolai checks the screen, jaw tightening for a fraction of a second.

“We need to leave,” Nikolai says. “I’ll arrange a car for you. Then I have to go.”

Theo studies his face but does not ask questions. They walk back through the casino, down the stairs, and into the ordinary brightness of the movie theatre lobby once more.

The contrast is almost jarring: popcorn and poster displays after the quiet rooftop world above.

At the glass doors Theo pauses.

“I think I’ll stick around and catch a movie, actually.”

Nikolai considers for a moment, then nods. “All right. But make sure you get a cab for the walk home afterward. Understood? Daddy’s orders.”

“Got it,” Theo replies.

Nikolai can see the flicker of fear in the boy’s eyes… it is obvious he is still trying to map the situation, still trying to decide how much danger he has stepped into.

The knowledge only tightens the pull Nikolai already feels toward the boy. He leans in and kisses Theo once more, brief but firm, the platinum bracelet cool against his wrist where the boy’s fingers brush his.

Then he steps back, turns, and walks out into the night.

The life of a pakhan is never easy, especially after midnight…

8

THEO

The cab drops Theo outside his apartment building a little after two in the morning.

The financial district is quieter now, the earlier rush of late workers and bar-hoppers reduced to the occasional taxi and the low hum of street cleaners moving along the curb.

Theo pays the driver, steps out into the cool air, and rides the elevator up in silence, the platinum bracelet still cool and solid around his left wrist.

Inside his apartment Theo locks the door, kicks off his shoes, and heads straight for the bedroom. Fatigue sits heavy in his limbs after the long night… the late screening of Chinatown he forced himself to sit through afterward just to create distance seemed like a good idea at the time.

His body still carries the residual heat of Nikolai’s hands and mouth. The marks on his ass have faded, but the memory of them remains sharp. Theo strips quickly, leaving the jeans and grey sweater in a soft pile on the chair.