Le loup derrière le maillot

"You shouldn't be in here."

Holy shit.

The voice came from directly behind me. So close I felt his breath on my neck. Every hair on my body stood up.

I spun around so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet.

Julian Kingston.

Oh my god. He was taller than I'd thought. Way taller. And broader. He filled the entire doorway like he owned not just the room but the air I was trying to breathe. Those eyes. Dark. Unreadable. Locked on me like I was prey that just made a fatal mistake.

Which, yeah. I probably had.

"I was just..." My voice came out wrong. Too high. Too guilty. "The door was open, I thought..."

"Shh." He pressed one finger to my lips.

The casual way he touched me, like he had every right, made my breath stop completely.

I tried to step back. His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. Not hard enough to hurt. But absolutely unbreakable.

"You saw something you shouldn't have," he said quietly. His eyes flicked past me to the monitors. The ones showing warehouses and blood and a man on his knees with a gun to his head. "That's a problem."

"I won't tell anyone." The words tumbled out too fast. "I swear, I didn't mean to see anything, I'll just go and..."

"You won't tell anyone." He pulled me closer. I stumbled forward. My palms hit his chest. Solid. Warm through his shirt. His other hand came up and cupped my jaw. His thumb dragged across my bottom lip. "Because you look like the type who remembers everything. Who notices things other people miss."

Heat shot straight between my legs.

No. Absolutely not. This was not the time for my body to betray me.

"Please..." My voice cracked.

"You know what those screens show?" His thumb pressed harder against my mouth. "That's the real Kingston empire. Not the boardrooms. Not the press releases. That's where the actual money comes from. The money that pays your mother's salary. This house. That pretty dress you're wearing."

I tried to jerk away.

His fingers threaded through my hair instead. Held me in place.

"People disappear in this world, Elena. People who see things they shouldn't see." His voice dropped so low I had to strain to hear it. "But I don't think you need to disappear. I think you need something else."

"I don't understand."

"You will."

Then he kissed me.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

His mouth crashed against mine like he was claiming territory. His tongue forced past my lips before my brain could catch up. I made some kind of sound, shock or fear or something I didn't want to examine, and he swallowed it whole. His hand fisted tighter in my hair until my scalp stung.

I should have bitten him.

I should have screamed.

But my hands fisted in his shirt and I kissed him back like I was dying and he was oxygen.

He groaned. Actually groaned. And walked me backward.

My spine hit the edge of the desk. Papers went flying. The ledger I'd been reading hit the floor with a thud.

"That's it," he murmured against my mouth. His lips moved to my jaw. My throat. "You're not scared of me at all, are you? You're scared of how much you want this."

"No." But my voice was breathy. Unconvincing even to me.

"Such a pretty little liar." His hands found the hem of my dress and shoved it up my thighs. "Your body doesn't know how to lie, Elena. I can feel you shaking."

He was right. I was shaking.

But not from terror.

His fingers hooked into my panties and I gasped. He took advantage, his mouth sealing over mine while his other hand palmed my breast through my dress. Possessive. Like he had every right.

"Julian..."

"Say it again." His hand slid beneath my panties. When his fingers found how wet I already was, he made a sound like he was in pain. "Say my name like you're begging me."

"Please..." It came out as a whimper.

"Please what?" Two fingers pushed inside me without warning. My vision blurred. "Please stop? Please fuck you right here on my father's desk where he counts his blood money?"

The crude words should have disgusted me.

Should have reminded me how fucked up this was.

Instead I got wetter.

His thumb found my clit and started circling. Slow. Deliberate. Like he had all the time in the world to take me apart.

"Jesus, you're tight. Tell me something." He added pressure. "Has anyone ever touched you like this before?"

I couldn't answer. Couldn't form words past the pleasure building at the base of my spine.

"Answer me." He added a third finger. The stretch burned and the burn mixed with pleasure until I couldn't tell them apart. "Has anyone?"

"No," I gasped.

His laugh was low and dark. "Good. That means I get to be the first one to ruin you."

He worked me faster. His free hand yanked down the front of my dress until my breasts spilled out. When his mouth closed around my nipple, teeth scraping, tongue soothing, I cried out.

"Quiet," he warned. But he didn't sound angry. He sounded hungry. "Unless you want your mother to hear what her daughter turned into the second she got in over her head."

The words should have shamed me.

They shoved me closer to the edge instead.

I was right there. So close I could taste it. My thighs trembling. My fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.

"Well, well."

The voice came from the doorway.

We both froze.

Silas Kingston stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, looking like he'd just stepped out of a boardroom instead of catching his son with his fingers buried inside me on his desk. His eyes, the exact same shade as Julian's but colder, slid from his son to me to the monitors still playing behind us.

"This is unexpected," he said.

Julian's fingers curled inside me. Deliberate.

I couldn't stop the whimper.

"She saw," Julian said. No shame. No fear. "Everything."

Silas stepped into the room.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Then he locked it.

The sound might as well have been a gunshot.

**********

Three hours earlier...

The Kingston estate looked like something out of a nightmare.

I stood at my new bedroom window watching rain hammer the glass, trying to convince my lungs to work. Downstairs, my mother's laugh echoed through marble halls. Too bright. Too performative. She was drinking Silas Kingston's wine, wearing the designer outfit he'd bought her, playing her role of grateful employee like her life depended on it.

Which, knowing Mom, it probably did.

My phone vibrated. Text from Jess: Girl, you ok? You've been MIA since the move.

I stared at the message.

What was I supposed to say? Hey Jess, yeah I'm great! My mom finally landed a job that doesn't involve sleeping with her married boss. The catch? We're living in a mansion that feels like a horror movie set, owned by a man who looks at me like I'm an acquisition he's considering.

Yeah. That would go over well.

A sound made me turn.

My door was open.

I knew, knew, I'd closed it.

"Hello?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted.

Nothing. Just the faint scent of cologne drifting through the crack. Expensive. Masculine. Woodsy with something darker underneath.

I should have stayed put.

Should have called down to Mom.

But I stepped into the hallway instead.

The mansion was all shadows and strategic lighting designed to make you feel small. I followed the scent, my bare feet silent on cold marble, until I found myself standing in front of a door I definitely hadn't noticed during the house tour.

It was cracked open. Just enough to show blue light bleeding out.

My hand was on the door before my brain registered I was moving.

The office inside made my stomach turn to ice.

Three huge monitors mounted on the wall. Each showing a different live feed. Warehouses, maybe. Dark spaces where shapes moved like ghosts. On the center screen, a man knelt on concrete, blood streaming from his mouth while someone just out of frame held a gun to his skull.

I couldn't breathe.

Papers covered the desk. Shipping manifests with Russian characters. Chinese. Codes I didn't understand. Photos of cargo containers with dates and locations scrawled in margins.

And there, half-buried under a leather folder, a ledger.

My hands shook when I picked it up.

Product acquired - Route 7 - $2.3M

Disposal confirmed - Witness liability eliminated

Collection complete - 12 units transferred

Units.

They were talking about people like they were fucking inventory.

"You shouldn't be in here."