Chapter 15 Alexi
ALEXI
The whiskey burns on the way down. Good. I need it after the clusterfuck of the past forty-eight hours.
“I still can’t believe we pulled it off.” Dmitri leans back in the booth, looking far too pleased with himself. “Frankfurt thought it was an inside job from their own IT department.”
“Because you planted evidence like a fucking artist,” Erik says, raising his glass. “Props, brother.”
Nikolai shoots him a look. “We shouldn’t have needed to plant anything if someone had caught the Phantom before they dumped our entire server architecture.”
All eyes turn to me.
I take another sip of whiskey, refusing to squirm under their scrutiny. “I’ve been working on it.”
“For eight months.”
“Eight months and four days,” Dmitri corrects helpfully.
I flip him off.
“The Phantom’s good,” I say, keeping my voice level. Not defensive. Just factual. “Better than anyone we’ve dealt with before.”
“Better than you?” Nikolai’s tone suggests he finds that hard to believe.
If you only knew.
Images flash through my mind—Iris pinned against that mirror, her eyes glazed with pleasure, my name falling from her lips like a prayer. The way she felt wrapped around me, tight and perfect and mine.
“Different,” I manage. “Different skill set.”
“Bullshit.” Erik grins, gesturing for another round. “You’re obsessed. Admit it.”
“I’m thorough.”
“You’re jerking off to code.” Dmitri smirks. “There’s a difference.”
I should defend myself. Tell them to fuck off. But my mind keeps circling back to last night—to Iris running through that building, to the thrill of hunting her, to the way she surrendered even as she fought.
To the fact that I came inside her. Multiple times. Without protection.
The thought sends heat straight to my groin.
“Alexi?”
I blink, realizing Nikolai’s been talking. “What?”
“I asked if you’ve made any progress identifying them.”
Her. Not them. Her.
Iris Mitchell, cybersecurity consultant with a vendetta and the tightest pussy I’ve ever had the privilege of destroying.
“Some leads,” I lie smoothly. “Nothing concrete yet.”
Nikolai studies me, and I force myself to meet his gaze. My oldest brother has always been able to smell bullshit from a mile away. It’s what makes him dangerous.
But he can’t read my mind. Can’t know that I spent last night fucking our biggest security threat instead of neutralizing her.
That I plan to do it again.
And again.
Until she’s so thoroughly mine that the idea of her breaching our systems becomes laughable.
“You’ll catch them,” Nikolai finally says.
“Yeah.” I drain my glass. “I will.”
I pull out my phone under the table, thumbing open my text thread with Iris.
The messages started this morning, after I’d dropped her off at her apartment at dawn. She’d looked thoroughly fucked, hair a mess, lips swollen, marks blooming on her throat. Beautiful.
Me: Thinking about you.
Iris: Don’t.
Me: Too late. Already am.
Iris: Last night was a mistake.
Me: Liar.
The conversation had devolved from there. Or evolved, depending on perspective.
Iris: I’m serious, Alexi. We can’t do this again.
Me: Your body disagrees. I have the claw marks on my back to prove it.
Iris: Fuck you.
Me: You did. Repeatedly. Want to go for round four tonight?
Iris: No.
Me: Your pussy was dripping for me, detka. Don’t pretend you didn’t love every second.
There’d been a ten-minute gap before her next response.
Iris: I hate you.
Me: No, you don’t.
I scroll past the morning exchanges to the more recent ones. She’s been replying faster now, which means she’s as distracted as I am.
Iris: Stop texting me.
Me: Make me.
Iris: I’ll block your number.
Me: I’ll find another way. You know I will.
Iris: Stalker.
Me: Says the woman who’s been inside our systems for months.
Iris: That’s different.
Me: How?
Iris: I’m not obsessed.
I grin at my screen, typing with one hand while reaching for my refilled whiskey with the other.
Me: Then why do you keep responding?
The three dots appear immediately. Disappear. Appear again.
Iris: Because you’re annoying.
Me: Because you can’t stop thinking about last night either.
Iris: Conceited asshole.
Me: You came three times, detka. Four, if we count the car.
Iris: I’m blocking you now.
Me: No, you’re not.
The dots appear. Stay there. I watch them, anticipation building.
Iris: What do you want from me?
Simple question. Complicated answer.
I want everything. Her submission. Her secrets. Her brilliant fucking mind and the body that comes with it.
Me: Dinner. Tomorrow night.
Iris: We already did dinner.
Me: And then I fucked you against every available surface in that building. Tomorrow we’ll try something different.
Iris: Like what?
Me: My bed.
The dots appear and disappear three times before her response finally comes through.
Iris: You’re impossible.
Me: Is that a yes?
“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Nikolai asks.
I glance up to find all three of my brothers staring.
I lock my phone screen, wiping the grin off my face. “No one.”
“Bullshit.” Dmitri leans forward, eyes gleaming. “You look like you just won the lottery.”
“Or got laid,” Erik adds helpfully.
I take a slow sip of whiskey, letting the burn ground me. “It’s called having a good day. You should try it sometime.”
“A good day.” Nikolai’s tone suggests he’s not buying it. “While we’re cleaning up the Frankfurt mess that’s costing us millions?”
“I said I’m working on it.”
“By texting someone who makes you smile like a lovesick teenager?” Dmitri’s not letting this go. Fucker.
I shift tactics, leaning back with calculated indifference. “It’s a contact. Someone who might have information on the Phantom.”
Erik snorts. “Right. Because all your informants make you look like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re two seconds away from jerking off under the table.”
I flip him off again. “Jealousy’s a bad look on you, brother.”
“Not jealous. Curious.” Dmitri flags down our server and orders another round. “You’ve been weird for weeks. Ever since that gala.”
My pulse kicks up, but I keep my expression neutral. “Define weird.”
“Distracted. Secretive. Showering before noon.” He grins. “Classic signs.”
“Of working a case.”
“Of getting pussy,” Erik corrects.
Nikolai’s studying me with that calculating look that means he’s filing everything away for later analysis. I need to shut this down before he starts investigating.
“Fine. You want the truth?” I set my glass down, meeting each of their gazes. “I’ve got a lead. A real one. But it’s delicate, and I’m not blowing it because you assholes can’t handle seeing me smile.”
Partial truth. The best kind of lie.
Dmitri opens his mouth, probably to press harder, but Nikolai raises a hand.
“How delicate?”
“Very. This person has access to the circles the Phantom operates in. But they’re skittish. I push too hard, they disappear.”
“So, you’re wooing an informant.” Erik sounds amused. “With late-night texts.”
“Whatever works.”
Nikolai considers this, then nods slowly. “Fine. But I want updates. Real ones.”
“When there’s something to report.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I resist the urge to check it. Iris is cramping my style with my brothers. How the hell did I let my obsession get this out of hand so quickly?