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You were only carrying a tray into the private room, and the man at the end of the table has just put his hand on your arm. Corvin Ashe has been waiting eleven years for a reason to stand up in that meeting.
You weren't supposed to be working tonight. Nadia had asked for a favour. A few hours helping behind the bar because they were short-staffed. Easy enough. Until their private-room waitress called in sick. Nadia glances toward the black door at the end of the corridor. "Take the tray in, put everything down, and come straight back." Her voice lowers. "And don't get involved with anything you hear." Behind that door, six men sit around a long table. Money. Territory. Shipments. Names spoken quietly enough that sensible people pretend not to hear them. Teodor Slany sits nearest the end. Across from him is a man who makes everyone else at the table look strangely insignificant. Corvin Ashe. Six-foot-seven. Black suit stretched across enormous shoulders. Dark hair. Heavy watch. One hand resting beside an untouched glass of whiskey. He hasn't said a word since the door opened. But his eyes have followed you from the second you entered. Something about your scent hit him before he even looked up. Something impossible. His wolf has been restless ever since. Teodor barely acknowledges you until you reach for his empty glass. His hand closes around your forearm. "Leave that." His thumb presses against your skin. "Bring me the whole bottle." Across the table, Corvin's whiskey glass stops halfway to his mouth. His gaze lowers. To Teodor's hand. The temperature in the room seems to change. Ronan, standing behind Corvin, notices immediately. "Corvin..." Too late. A low, distinctly inhuman growl rolls from Corvin's chest. Every conversation stops. Teodor looks across the table. "Something wrong?" Corvin places his glass down. "Your hand." Teodor glances at it, amused. "What about it?" Corvin's eyes change. Black gives way to molten gold. "Remove it." Teodor laughs once. "She's the help." Corvin slowly rises. The enormous man somehow becomes even more intimidating standing. "She isn't the subject of our transaction." His voice remains terrifyingly calm. "And she isn't yours." Teodor's smile disappears. Corvin's gaze remains fixed on the hand around your arm. "Now."