Adrik
The feed from the suite is silent, but I can almost hear the way her breath trembles. Her body moves carefully, as if every shift of weight might hurt. Her fingers clutched the cushions like she’s anchoring herself to something soft for the first time in a long time.
It affects me more than it should.
I sit back in my chair, but the tension in my muscles feels like coiled wire, hot and tight, refusing to let me slip into the calm I rely on. Control has always been instinctive for me, a constant hum beneath my skin. But watching her, something in that control falters, like a misfired current.
I told my men to put her in the Winner’s Suite so she’d be safe. That’s the lie I tell myself. Safety is part of it, yes, but the truth is darker and far more possessive.
I didn’t want anyone else near her.
Her face softens when she sinks into the bath.
Not completely. She’s still tense, still listening for threats that aren’t there.
But there’s a shift, a faint loosening in the set of her shoulders, that threatens to smother me.
Watching her dip beneath the water, I hold my breath with her and count the seconds.
I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want her.
It makes no sense. I’ve spent my adult life enjoying women as and when I see fit. They’ve been nothing more than a distraction at the end of a busy day.
But this woman?
When I look at her, it isn’t distraction I want.
She lifts her hands to massage shampoo into her hair, her face scrunching into a wince.
I saw the bruise on her ribs when she got into the bath.
It darkens her skin in a way that ignites something violent inside me.
Not the cold precision I use when dealing with enemies.
This is something primal. Something territorial.
Someone did that to her. Someone chased her through this city, possibly even the state, like she was prey.
My jaw tightens until it aches. I force my fingers to unclench, but the effort only sharpens the urge beneath my skin.
My phone buzzes.
I tear my gaze away from the monitor long enough to glance at the screen. It’s Damian. The background check. Good. I want answers. Now.
"Korolyov," I say quietly.
"Boss." His tone is clipped and straight to the point.
One of his finer qualities. "Her name is Jasmine Boothe," he says.
"Twenty-two. Originally from Henderson. Was in the system from the age of eight.
Got her diploma and moved to Las Vegas as soon as she turned eighteen.
Houseshare deal, working from home jobs, mostly admin stuff.
Been living with a Matthew Kane for just under a year. "
"That name is familiar."
"It should be," Damian says, his tone shifting. "Kane works enforcement for the Iron Serpents. Mid-tier crew. He’s been off-grid for forty-eight hours. Word is he’s looking for her. Hard. Put a price on her too. Claims she has done a runner with money owed."
The spark in my chest erupts into flame. Is that why she was here? To win money to pay back money she stole?
The thought doesn’t fully solidify.
Her fear. Her bruises. The way she keeps glancing over her shoulder even inside a suite only accessible by my staff. It all clicks into place with brutal clarity. Someone like Kane doesn’t just go off-grid. He’s hunting.
"And he hurt her?" My voice sounds calm to my own ears, but Damian hesitates like he can feel the danger underneath it.
"She was admitted to urgent care just under a week ago. Used a false name. Bruised ribs. Sprained wrist. Minor lacerations all consistent with a beating."
I close my eyes for a slow breath, but it does nothing to quiet the fury building inside me. On the monitor, Jasmine shifts in the bath, her hands curling close to her heart, as if she’s holding herself together.
She ran from this man. She ran until she was broken and exhausted. She stumbled into my casino with nothing left, and she still carried herself with more quiet strength than most men I’ve put in the ground.
And he thinks he’ll find her and take her back.
No. This ends tonight.
"Find him," I say, my voice low enough to scrape gravel. "Find everyone connected to him. I want locations. Associates. Gear. Everything."
"Yes, boss."
I hang up without another word and turn my attention back to the screen.
She is drifting off in the warm water. Good. She needs rest.
She breathes shallowly. A small sound escapes her throat, like a tiny crack in the armor she’s been holding up. Something raw and protective pulls tight inside me, a sensation I have never felt before.
I sit forward again, elbows braced on my knees, watching her the way a storm watches the coastline it’s about to consume.
She doesn’t know that she’s safe because of me. She doesn’t know that I’m already planning the destruction of the man who hurt her. She doesn’t know that her winning that jackpot pulled her straight into my path.
But she will.
I let the room fall silent around me, lights flickering across my face as the feed updates.
I watch her breathe while the water cools around her, and I feel the decision settle deep inside me, solid and absolute.
She came into my world tonight by chance.
Luck struck, probably for the first time in her life, in my casino.
As I watch her finally drift toward sleep, something deeper than desire coils through me. It’s not just possession. It’s not just fury on her behalf. It’s an instinct older than logic, older than restraint, older than the man I’ve spent my life sculpting myself into.
I want to claim her. Protect her. Keep her under me and around me and tied to me so completely she never has to run again. The thought takes root and settles inside me. I imagine her carrying my future beneath her ribs, safe in my home, in my bed, in my world.
The urge is so sharp and sudden it steals the air from my lungs, but I don’t fight it. I’ve never wanted anything with the clarity that I want her. And now that fate has pushed her into my hands, I’m going to make damn sure she becomes mine in every way a woman can belong to a man.