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21. Restless

Bastien

My office is usually a fortress of solitude, far removed from the chaos and obligations that come with being both Alpha and Kingpin of Las Vegas. But today, the leather chair seems more like a throne of thorns, each prickle a reminder of the enigma that is Anya.

I can’t even bring myself to walk into my office, can’t bear to see the questions on her face about Valeria this morning.

She’s on my territory, in my home, answering my damn phones, and yet she feels miles away, unreachable. I can hear the soft clicks of her typing, the hushed conversations as she answers the switchboard. Each sound is a taunt, a dare for me to come out and face whatever the hell is happening between us.

But I don’t. I fucking can’t.

I replay the events of last night’s dinner, then this morning. Her squirming at the dinner table, the way her body relaxed when I stroked her hair.

Christ, even the way her tongue curled around my finger, how she sucked the digit without being prompted… Fuck, I need to f
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