8. Theo
THEO
The cab drops Theo outside his apartment building a little after two in the morning.
The financial district is quieter now, the earlier rush of late workers and bar-hoppers reduced to the occasional taxi and the low hum of street cleaners moving along the curb.
Theo pays the driver, steps out into the cool air, and rides the elevator up in silence, the platinum bracelet still cool and solid around his left wrist.
Inside his apartment Theo locks the door, kicks off his shoes, and heads straight for the bedroom. Fatigue sits heavy in his limbs after the long night… the late screening of Chinatown he forced himself to sit through afterward just to create distance seemed like a good idea at the time.
His body still carries the residual heat of Nikolai’s hands and mouth. The marks on his ass have faded, but the memory of them remains sharp. Theo strips quickly, leaving the jeans and grey sweater in a soft pile on the chair.
From the top drawer he pulls out a pair of snug pale-blue pajamas: soft cotton pants and a matching button-up top that sits close without being tight. The fabric feels comforting against his skin as he slips them on.
It’s nothing fancy. Just the familiar weight of clean clothes and the quiet of his own space. And often that’s just how Theo likes it.
Theo should sleep. His eyes are heavy and the bed is only a few steps away.
Instead his mind keeps turning over every detail of the evening: the way Nikolai had looked at the red marks on his ass, the controlled heat of his tongue, the long kiss on the balcony with his hand resting lightly around his throat.
And the way he had simply nodded when he said he would stay for a movie, then told him to take a cab home as if the instruction itself were non-negotiable. Nikolai is used to giving orders, and doesn’t expect for a second that anyone will disobey him.
“Who is this man?” Theo mutters.
Theo picks up Maximus from his place against the pillows and climbs onto the bed, tucking the faded blue friend under one arm. The iPad rests on the nightstand. He powers it on, scrolls past the usual options, and opens an old Disney film he has watched a hundred times… Lady and the Tramp.
“Ahhh,” Theo exhales.
The soft opening music fills the quiet bedroom. Theo settles back against the pillows, Maximus held close to his chest, and tries to let the familiar animation pull him under.
It does not work for long.
Halfway through the scene in the park his thoughts drift sideways again. Nikolai’s face surfaces… the dark eyes, the controlled stillness, the way he had watched Theo while he took him in his mouth.
No other man has ever touched him the way Nikolai does.
No other man has ever made Theo’s body respond so completely while his mind stays sharp and calculating at the same time.
Nikolai is handsome in a way that feels dangerous rather than safe. He can read the shift in Theo’s breathing, the way his thighs tighten, the exact moment he tips from defiance into need. And Nikolai uses that knowledge without apology.
Theo’s fingers tighten around Maximus.
But Nikolai is the target.
This is business only.
The reminder lands like a cold stone in his stomach.
Tracker is paying him more than he has ever earned in a single job.
The money will buy Theo the kind of freedom he has wanted since the day he left the military with a dishonorable discharge and nothing but a few contacts and a talent for becoming whoever the client needed.
Feelings have no place in this equation. Attraction is a tool or a liability. Nothing more.
Theo lets out a sigh and stares at the iPad screen without really seeing it, the dilemma circling again and again.
Keep the distance.
Stay professional.
Extract whatever information is required and walk away clean.
Or let the heat Nikolai pulls from his body keep pulling until the lines blur past the point of recovery. The familiar weight of Maximus against his side pulls his thoughts further back, into a place he does not visit often.
MANY YEARS AGO
The late-afternoon sun sits warm across the small lake at the edge of Theo’s grandfather’s farm. Theo is eleven, barefoot, legs working the pedals of the little blue boat he bought him the summer before.
The water is calm and green, the air full of the smell of cut grass and the distant lowing of cattle.
Maximus—still new then, still bright blue—sits propped against the small bench seat opposite him, his button eyes watching the shore.
He is halfway across the lake when the sound of car doors carries over the water. Three men in dark suits are walking up the gravel path toward the garden at the rear. Theo’s grandfather stands on the steps near the lake, his expression fixed on the men, firm.
Theo has seen them before. He knows his grandfather does not like them, and that is enough for him to dislike them too.
This time the conversation does not stay calm.
One of the men steps too close. Words rise. Then the largest of the three shoves his grandfather hard enough that he stumbles and goes down on one knee.
“Grandpa!” Theo hollers from the boat, already starting to paddle back to shore.
Theo’s heart lurches. He digs his bare feet into the pedals and drives the little boat toward the grassy bank as fast as he can.
By the time the hull scrapes shallow water he can see his grandfather back on his feet. He swings his fist in a short, brutal arc that catches the man who shoved him across the jaw.
The man staggers.
The other two hesitate just long enough for his grandfather to land solid shots on them too.
“Stay the fuck away from here!” his grandfather growls, looking every inch the man built from steel, his body a temple from decades of physical work and living simply. “No means no!”
They leave the same way they always do—back to the cars, dust rising behind them as they peel down the driveway.
Theo scrambles out of the boat and runs. His grandfather is already dusting himself down.
One eye is beginning to swell, the skin around it darkening fast. He reaches him and wraps both arms around his middle, face pressed into the worn flannel of his shirt.
He rests a large, steady hand on the back of Theo’s head.
“I will never back down, little one,” he says, voice calm despite the injury. “The most important thing in the world is to hold on to what you believe in. No matter who tries to take it from you.”
Theo only holds his Grandpa tighter.
The lake behind him is quiet again. Maximus sits in the boat, still watching as ever. All Theo can think about is that his grandfather protects his land in the same way he protects him.
One day, he thinks, I’ll be just like him…
PRESENT DAY
Theo blinks and the farm dissolves from his mind.
The soft glow of the iPad screen pulls him back into the quiet of his bedroom. Lady and the Tramp are still sharing spaghetti on the small display. Maximus is warm against his side, the fabric of his ear soft under his fingers.
The memory settles something solid inside his chest. His grandfather never folded. He held the line until the day the odds finally became impossible, and even then he did not surrender the principle.
Theo carries that same refusal in his blood.
Feelings for a man like Nikolai—no matter how completely he can undo his body—cannot be allowed to rewrite the job.
Theo draws a slow breath and makes the decision cleanly. He will keep whatever is growing between them under control. He will take the heat when it serves the work and shut it down when it does not.
The money, the future, the freedom… all of it depends on finishing what Tracker hired him to do. Nothing else can matter more than that.
Theo settles deeper into the pillows, Maximus tucked close, and turns his attention back to the film. The familiar animation and soft music fill the room once more.
But somewhere across the city Nikolai is handling whatever urgent matter pulled him away after midnight.
And somewhere else, instructions from Tracker are probably already being prepared.
For now though Theo watches the screen and lets the old movie carry him toward sleep, the platinum bracelet still cool against his wrist and the resolve inside him newly sharpened.
Nikolai might be all kinds of hot.
But Theo’s end goal will always be his driving force…
Morning light filters through the wide windows of the coffee shop a few blocks from Theo’s apartment.
The place is only half full: remote workers with headphones, a pair of lawyers speaking in low voices over oat-milk lattes, the steady hiss of the espresso machine behind the counter.
In truth, it could be any coffee shop across the city.
Theo sits at a corner table with a clear view of both the entrance and the street outside. His laptop is open in front of him, a half-finished black coffee cooling at his elbow.
The platinum bracelet is still on his nightstand at home; he told himself he would put it on after the shower and then simply… forgot.
Or chose not to remember.
He refreshes the encrypted inbox for the third time in ten minutes. The message arrives without fanfare…
TRACKER: Now we move deeper. I’m sending a file with specific requests for banking, offshore reserves, and crypto details. Bring me the details as requested and do not keep me waiting.
A second notification follows almost immediately: an encrypted file attachment, password-protected, waiting for the key he already knows how to generate.
Theo arches one eyebrow and leans closer to the screen.
The play is obvious once the pieces line up…
Whoever is paying Theo is not interested in photographs or leverage or quiet blackmail. They want the money itself… Nikolai’s banking structure, the offshore reserves, the crypto wallets that almost certainly sit behind layers of shell companies and false names.
This is not corporate espionage anymore. This is a direct attempt to empty a rich man’s accounts.
A cold thread of unease moves through Theo’s chest. He has taken jobs that ruined careers and marriages. He has never been asked to help empty a man’s fortune while sharing his bed and wearing his gift on his wrist.
The distinction sits heavier than he expected.
But before Theo can finish sorting the feeling, a hand settles on his shoulder.
Theo nearly jumps out of the chair. He forces his body to stay still and reaches for the laptop lid in one smooth motion, closing it with the kind of calm that looks ordinary if no one is watching too closely.
The screen goes dark just as Nikolai leans down and presses a brief, warm kiss to his cheek.
“Good morning,” Nikolai says, already pulling out the chair opposite Theo.
Theo’s heart is still hammering. He offers a small smile that feels too tight on his face.
“Hi. I didn’t expect to see you here,” Theo says, smiling as sweetly as he can.
“I was nearby. Call it a coincidence,” Nikolai sits, signals the barista with two fingers, and turns his full attention back to Theo. “Did you sleep well after the film?”
“I had a good night,” Theo says, fluttering his eyelashes as he does everything he can to stop Nikolai from asking about what was on his laptop screen.
They exchange a few easy sentences… how the late screening of Chinatown held up, whether the rooftop casino had surprised him as much as it seemed, the mild weather.
Just all the typical post-date BS Theo had heard a thousand times.
Nikolai’s coffee arrives black, no sugar. He wraps one hand around the cup and studies Theo across the small table.
Then his gaze drops to Theo’s bare left wrist, and a dark look comes over Nikolai’s eyes…
“Why aren’t you wearing my bracelet?”
The question is quiet, almost conversational, but the weight underneath it is unmistakable.
Theo keeps his voice light. “I forgot to put it on after my morning shower. It’s still on the nightstand.”
Nikolai’s eyes stay on Theo’s wrist for another beat. When he looks up again the warmth has cooled into something more deliberate.
“That isn’t acceptable.” He takes a slow sip of coffee, then sets the cup down with care. “You’ll be disciplined for it. Not now. Later.”
Heat floods Theo’s face and drops straight between his legs. He shifts in the wooden chair, thighs pressing together under the table.
“When?” Theo asks, the word coming out more desperate than he intended.
Nikolai’s mouth curves, not quite a smile. “When you least expect it.”
Nikolai lets the statement hang for a moment, then changes the subject as if the conversation about discipline never happened. He asks whether he has plans for the afternoon, mentioning a new bakery that opened near the health club, commenting on the traffic along the river.
Theo answers on autopilot.
But his body is still reacting to the quiet threat. Every shift of his weight reminds him of the red marks Nikolai left the night before and the way he had held Theo’s throat while he kissed him on the balcony.
Keeping his feelings under control is already harder than Theo told himself it would be at two in the morning with Maximus under his arm and a Disney film playing.
Now the demand from Tracker sits on the closed laptop like a live wire…
Banking details. Offshore reserves. Crypto.
Steal from the same man who is currently sitting across from him promising a future spanking in the same calm voice he uses to order coffee.
Theo lifts his cup and takes a sip he barely tastes. The coffee has gone lukewarm. Across the table Nikolai watches him with the same assessing patience he showed at the roulette table—the look of a man who is still deciding how much of himself to reveal and how much of him he already owns.
Theo forces his breathing to stay even and meets his eyes.
The job is clear. The money is life changing. The line he drew last night is already under pressure from both sides. Tracker’s file on one side, the low thrum of arousal and the platinum bracelet waiting on his nightstand on the other.
Theo sets the cup down carefully and keeps his expression open, pleasant, exactly the version of himself that has gotten him this far.
Whatever comes next, he will have to walk the narrow path between them without falling.
And if he does fall?
Something deep inside Theo tells him that he might not want to know the answer…