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“Right here, Mr. Verreault.” The bouncer stopped and threw open a door.

Wary, Bennett slowly edged around the corner and went into the room.

Nico Marzano was waiting inside. And he looked pissed.

CHAPTER 10

Nico paced the floor as he waited, trying to rein in his temper. The rage was a living, breathing thing, a cyclone of disbelief and fury in his chest that he could practically taste with every inhale. It took up all the space in his body and wrapped around his organs until he thought he might choke.

As if his night hadn’t been bad enough. Now he was here in this club, watching Bennett Verreault flirt—flirt!—with some girl who couldn’t be more than nineteen. Ma che cazzo? Wasn’t he gay? More importantly, he was supposed to be finding the guy who drugged Sofia, not chatting up women and having fun. What was Verreault thinking?

The fucking nerve. Suddenly, the room was too hot for his skin, so Nico tore off his suit coat and whipped it over a chair back. He was normally calm in a crisis, a boss who instilled fear through his legendary control, not by behaving rashly. Hasty decisions got people killed. Acting on a whim lost everyone money. He knew this as fact. Steady thoughtfulness was how he excelled at chess, how he could take apart a car engine and put it back together. How he’d risen to the top of Toronto’s criminal underground. Both his enemies and his soldiers never doubted his leadership abilities, the ruthlessness with which he ruled the city.

But at the moment? Control was slipping through his fingers like water. He felt unmoored, unhinged. Filled with chaos and uncertainty. And one man needed to answer for this.

So what was taking him so fucking long?

The door finally opened. Feet rooted to the floor, Nico put his hands on his hips and waited, his breath coming sharp and fast. Like his body was full of adrenaline with nowhere to go.

Bennett’s brow wrinkled in confusion as he entered, but when he saw Nico he straightened, his expression wiping clean. As if he wasn’t surprised to see Nico here. As if he didn’t need to answer for the last fifteen minutes.

The door closed with a snick and it was like a starting pistol in Nico’s mind. In three steps, he was on Bennett, pushing the other man’s back against the wall. Verreault didn’t try to fight him, either—which was smart. Nico would have no problem wrestling a bear right now, let alone a hockey player.

There probably should have been words, demands for an explanation. A reasonable conversation. But Nico was staring at Verreault’s mouth and holding him pinned against drywall, so there was absolutely nothing reasonable about this. Sono fuori di testa. I’m out of my mind.

He slammed his mouth to Verreault’s, their lips clashing, teeth clattering. It was aggressive and violent, tongues warring, ugly. Messy. Nico half expected the other man to push him away, to punch him in the face, but Verreault did none of that. Instead, he gave back as good as he got, equal measure, both devouring and being devoured. The response made Nico’s dick instantly, painfully hard. Shifting, he rocked his hips and found Verreault’s erection as eager, as thick as his own, and he swallowed Verreault’s gasp.

Nico had never wanted anyone like this. Not once. He knew he’d think about that later, but right now, he very much liked the way Verreault was holding onto his shirt, clutching to keep him close, and making little sounds⁠—

“Wait,” Verreault panted, pushing Nico back with a strong hand. “There could be cameras in here.”

“There aren’t.”

Verreault relaxed at that and Nico went back in for another kiss, gentler this time. He took all that Verreault offered, from the whimpers and soft grunts, to the way his mouth chased Nico’s every time Nico thought about pulling away. This was what Nico needed, for Bennett to melt into him, to give him everything. To let Nico take him apart.

But they couldn’t do this all night, unfortunately.

“Explain yourself, bello,” Nico said, still annoyed but kissing the spot behind Verreault’s ear.

“Explain what?” The words were fuzzy, dreamy. Like Bennett had trouble stringing a sentence together.

“You were flirting with her.”

A sound escaped Bennett’s throat, dry and humorless. “You’re joking.”

“I never joke.”

With a palm on Nico’s sternum, Bennett created space between them, so they could stare at each other. “You called me in here because you thought I was flirting with her.”

Not a question, so Nico did not respond. Instead, he cupped Bennett’s jaw with his hand and slid his thumb over those full, perfect lips. When they parted, Nico slid his thumb inside, the wet heat surrounding the digit as Bennett sucked and dragged his tongue along the skin. Madonna mia. Nico’s dick pulsed, desperate to feel that same heat and pressure. “Cazzo,” he whispered, gaze never leaving Bennett’s mouth. “Knees. Now.”

Bennett released Nico’s thumb with a wet pop. “Admit you were jealous first.”

“Do not insult me.” With one hand he shoved Bennett down to the ground. When Bennett was kneeling, Nico stared at him and snapped, “I was not jealous. I am pissed that you have wasted the entire night by doing nothing.” He tempered this by running his hand through Bennett’s hair. “But I know how you will make it up to me.”

Nico had been dreaming of this for days. He wanted to shove his dick into this man’s mouth and watch Bennett take every bit, let Nico fuck his face while Bennett swallowed every drop of his come.

“I was watching. Observing.” Bennett leaned forward and rubbed his forehead on Nico’s erection. The heavy press of Bennett’s skull across his shaft nearly caused Nico’s knees to buckle. Bennett’s voice was soft as he whispered, “I was not wasting the entire night.”