Nikolaus
I don’t look out the window. There’s nothing out there I haven’t already seen, nothing that requires my attention more than the tablet in my hand. My thumb scrolls through the report, eyes catching every inconsistency, every delay, every detail someone else thought was small enough to overlook.
My jaw tightens as I reread a line, irritation making my head throb. “I want the names of the idiots responsible for the sloppy timing with this shipment transfer.”
My right-hand man, Constantine, holds his hand out for the tablet. He takes it from me and looks down at the report.
“You’ll have them within the hour,” he says, sending it to himself. “But maybe don’t kill them for being ten minutes late?”
I let out a quiet, humorless huff, dragging my gaze from the screen to the window for the first time—not to look at the city, but to avoid looking at him.
“Ten minutes,” I repeat, sneering. “Ten whole minutes where they were conveniently out of the picture when Reed’s men were ambushed.”
Constantine sighs before returning his attention to the tablet.
“There’s no evidence that they had anything to do with what happened.
I understand what it probably looks like to Reed, but on the other hand, we have four men who are alive, and a crate of guns that would’ve been stolen had they been there.
Discipline and interrogation—yes. Going straight to murder—no. ”
My eyes narrow. “What’s the point in keeping them alive if I don’t trust them?”
Constantine doesn’t even hesitate. “Information, and loyalty if it turns out they are innocent, and you were merciful enough and smart enough to actually investigate this shit before breaking their necks.”
A slow, heavy breath leaves me through my nose. “It’ll be your neck if it’s a mistake.”
“It’s always my fucking neck, Niko. I wouldn’t have it any other way, brother.”
“You’re getting bold,” I mutter.
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Occupational hazard. I just have to hope your childhood friend is worth more than the ‘idiots.’”
“Of course you are,” I scoff. “Mama would hang me if I killed you before Easter. Which reminds me, she asked me to confirm you and Carli will be in attendance.”
“I’d hang myself for missing it,” he laughs, his polished shoe knocking into mine. “Carli’s excited, too. Already planning her outfit four months in advance.”
“Good.” I smile, thoughts of family are one of the few things to draw a genuine one out of me these days.
As Constantine hands me back the tablet, he has a thoughtful look on his face. “Maybe you’ll have someone to accompany you by then.”
“Unlikely.”
“You say that, and yet where are we headed?” His thick brown brow raises knowingly.
Prick.
My gaze drifts, unfocused for a moment before settling again. “There’s no harm in looking.”
Constantine watches me for a second longer than necessary, then smirks. “That—we agree on, my friend.”
“I don’t know. They’re all the same anyway,” I say, voice flat. “They see money, power, and security. They shape themselves into something they think I want. It’s tedious.”
Constantine leans back, crossing one ankle over his knee. “You know they’re not all like that, or you wouldn’t still be looking,” he points out, frustratingly correct again.
I am forty-three. I built my empire ruthlessly, uncaring about who I had to screw over to get ahead. Men fear me. Respect me. Depend on me.
And yet—
I go home to nothing.
No one waiting, no soft voice calling out to me when I walk through the door.
No one needing me.
No one I can present to my mother as my own.
“Mr. Makris, we’ve arrived,” Alex’s voice sounds muffled through the tinted glass as the town car glides to a quiet stop. Outside, a squat brick building stands under a dim streetlamp—no sign, no banner, just a black steel door set into mottled stone.
Constantine leans forward, eyes bright. He exhales a quick breath of anticipation. “Send your prayers out, Niko. Maybe tonight is the night.”
I step onto the damp pavement first, the soles of my boots skirting puddles that shimmer with neon reflections, then assess the plain entrance, eyes drawn to the single red LED above the door, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Behind me, Constantine adjusts his coat, his shoulders rolling into an easy shrug as he follows. Alex waits until we’ve crossed the threshold before pulling away, the engine’s hum fading into the night.
Inside, the reception room is deceptively simple with polished black tile underfoot, walls painted a charcoal gray, and a low desk of brushed steel. At the desk, a blonde woman in a glossy black spandex bodysuit smiles up at us, her hair catching the overhead light like spun gold.
“Hello, handsomes! I don’t believe I’ve seen you two here before,” she purrs, her voice velvet-soft as her gaze slides over my frame, then drifts to Constantine. She leans forward, revealing the curve of her collarbone.
I force a polite smile. Women don’t do much for me—but her confidence, the sleek contour of her suit, is… well, impressive, even if it’s not what I’m looking for.
“We’re visiting,” I reply, my tone smooth enough to snap her focus back to professionalism. She straightens, fingertips dancing across a touchscreen.
“Of course,” she says, bright as polished chrome. “Welcome. First visit is free, then we offer various membership options. Just fill out this form, and you’ll be good to go.”
“Lovely,” Constantine answers, sliding into his natural charm. He leans against the desk, easy and unhurried, like he owns the place.
The blonde’s fingers flick across the screen, pulling up liability waivers and privacy clauses.
She turns it toward us. Constantine skims the text, then signs with a flourish.
While he works, I let my gaze roam. There’s a plush velvet sofa in one corner and a rack of wigs and masks against the far wall.
“Give it ten minutes,” Constantine murmurs under his breath, catching my glance. “You haven’t even looked yet.”
“I am looking,” I counter, though he’s right—I’m judging.
I sign my name, then nod at the woman. She pivots the screen back, checks our signatures, and smiles. “Perfect. You’re all set. Everything’s open tonight. Anything specific you’re after?”
I clear my throat. “Do you have a space or room for age play?”
Her brow lifts, and for a moment she seems to hesitate. “Uhm… yes, we do.”
Strange. Her hesitation hangs in the air like a question.
“And where is that?”
“It’s the first door past the dungeon, down the left hallway,” she says, still sounding uncertain.
Constantine arches an eyebrow. “I’d hope someone working at a kink club doesn’t kink-shame,” he teases gently, picking up on the weird tension.
She flushes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, no—no, not at all! I’m so sorry. I was just wondering if my friend was still in there.” She forces a bright laugh. “You’ll love it, though.”
I nod once. “Thank you for the directions.”
She watches us turn away, cheeks still rose-tinted. “Enjoy your time,” she murmurs.
Beyond the desk, the lounge stretches out under low, red-hued lamps. Leather armchairs ring a low table strewn with novelty items. Behind us, muffled music pulses. I can feel dozens of eyes on us—curious, appraising.
Constantine falls in step beside me. “That was weird,” he says quietly. “But straight there, or do you want to explore?”
“Straight to it,” I reply, my voice firm.
He hums in agreement. “Thought so.”
We pass an open double door where guests circle around a scene of suspension bondage. Soft groans and the faint rustle of rope fill the air. I glance in but keep moving.
It’s not that bondage doesn’t interest me, because it does.
But I don’t want an experienced rope bunny or masochist. I want an innocent, sweet baby boy who’ll cry so prettily for me as I tie him up and push a pacifier gag between his trembling lips.
He’d be so unsure and nervous, maybe even a little scared…
Fuck.
I reach down and adjust my hardening cock while reminding myself it’s unlikely I’ll find the perfect boy for my fantasies here today.
Up ahead, I can see glass windows that hopefully look into the little room. It’s a cute idea. Like a nursery at a hospital.
A few more steps, and yes, it’s the room I’m looking for.
I steel myself as I go to look in, bracing myself for the usual disappointment.
Constantine almost walks into me before noticing I’ve stopped.
“What—” He follows my line of sight, then goes quiet.
It looks like the blonde’s friend is still here. And I think I understand why she was trying to keep him hidden.
A boy is curled up on a bean bag, a blanket slipping off one shoulder, revealing the plush toy that’s being snuggled tightly into his chest.
The television on the wall above him flickers softly across his face, playing a children’s movie. The light catches on the tear tracks on his cheeks, not yet fully dried.
Constantine exhales slowly under his breath. “Well, he’s either naive enough to think it’s safe to fall asleep in a place like this, or just that exhausted.”
I don’t respond.
I’m watching—studying every detail.
I don’t have a great view of his body, but he appears to be rather short. At 6’3 myself, the height difference would be sizeable. I could probably even carry him around.
He has dirty-blonde hair that falls around his ears, messy and in need of a hydrating treatment.
“Niko…” Constantine says carefully.
My gaze flicks to him, irritated at his interruption. “What?”
He nods his head toward the sleeping boy. “Just… why don’t we watch him for a while? Don’t get too excited over just a look. I don’t want to have to clean up his remains if he isn’t what you think.”
He’s right.
Thankfully, there are three seats stationed by the windows like a viewing area.
I take the one in the center without thinking, my gaze never leaving the boy as I sit. Constantine lowers himself into the chair to my right with a quiet sigh, stretching his legs out in front of him like we’re settling in for a show.
I lean forward slightly, elbows braced on my thighs, fingers loosely laced together as I watch.