The gala buzzed with the usual mix of elegance and undercurrents of tension. The Bellucci family’s event was a rare spectacle, attracting all the right people from various crime syndicates, each one eyeing the others with a mix of respect and suspicion. Conversations were polite on the surface but carried the weight of unspoken deals and thinly veiled threats. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter that didn’t quite reach the eyes echoed through the ballroom, and the air carried the distinct scent of expensive cologne, cigars, and deception.

Nikolai wasn’t particularly interested in the politics of the evening—he never was. His sharp gaze swept over the room, barely paying attention to the posturing and false pleasantries. He was looking for one thing.

There.

Standing at the edge of the crowd, aloof as ever, was his secret. The youngest son of the Bellucci family, watching the room with that signature intensity, shoulders squared, composure locked in place like a well-fitted suit. Always the good son, always keeping up appearances. But Nikolai knew the truth. Knew what was underneath.

And tonight? Tonight, he felt like pushing him.

He moved through the crowd effortlessly, slipping between guests with the kind of fluidity that made it seem like he belonged everywhere and nowhere all at once. His steps were light, measured, but his purpose was anything but. When he finally reached him, he didn’t hesitate. He leaned in close, his voice dropping into that dangerously soft tone he knew would get under his skin.

"Is this how you plan to act all night, or are you going to come have some fun with me?"

The words dripped with amusement, a quiet challenge just for him. Nikolai didn’t have to see his face to know he got the reaction he wanted. He felt it—the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way he stilled for just a second before regaining control. But Nikolai had been around him long enough to catch the little things. The way his pulse quickened. The slight shift of his jaw. The quick glance around the room, making sure no one had noticed the exchange.

That only made the smirk on Nikolai’s lips widen.

Leaning in even closer, he let his breath ghost over the skin just beneath his ear, deliberately slow, deliberate in every move. His voice dipped lower, barely above a whisper. "Afraid someone will overhear?" A pause, just enough to let the tension settle between them. Then, with a smirk, "Or just afraid I’ll make it too obvious?"

He lingered, knowing exactly what he was doing, watching the way his fingers curled ever so slightly at his sides. Controlled, restrained—but not unaffected. That was what made this so much fun.

And then, just as easily as he had invaded his space, Nikolai pulled away. He leaned back against the wall, casual, like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just stolen the air from his lungs. With practiced ease, he lifted his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip of his drink, eyes flicking back to him with that knowing look.

The night had barely begun, but Nikolai was already enjoying himself.