STORY EXCERPT

Chance

Three hours before I end up bent over Ronan Beresford’s desk with my pants around my knees and my career and dignity hanging by a thread, I’m slipping into his company’s anniversary gala with a stolen invitation and a meticulously tailored suit. The suit cost more than I could save in six months. These things matter more than anything else, Colby had explained as he sent me for fittings. In this world of seven-figure deals, the difference between Brooks Brothers and bespoke can determine whether you’re noticed or invisible. Tonight, I need to be both elegant enough to blend with the elite crowd and forgettable enough that no one questions my presence. A quiet harpooner chasing corporate sharks in a sea of champagne and privilege.

One shark in particular. Ronan Beresford, the host of this little shindig.

“Name, sir?” The woman at the check-in desk has the practiced smile of someone who’s spent her career determining who belongs and who doesn’t.

“James Whitcomb,” I reply smoothly, the alias rolling off my tongue. “Plus one.” I casually gesture to the fake invitation Colby Whitley, my employer and mentor, provided. It’s complete with the holographic security seal that his administrative assistant somehow managed to replicate. Acclivous Solutions really does solve all kinds of IT problems.

She checks her tablet, nods, and waves me through with a plastic smile. “Enjoy your evening, Mr. Whitcomb.”

And just like that, I’m in. Chance Donahue, junior analyst from rival firm Acclivous Solutions, has successfully infiltrated the lion’s den. If Colby could see me now, he’d be proud. He’s been grooming me for this since he picked me out from a young offenders program when I was seventeen. Five long years taking me from teenage con artist to corporate spy, with the right accent, posture, and ability to synthesize information from hacked computers.

He’s the only person who ever gave a shit about me, and it’s finally time to start paying my debt back.

Ronan

That little whelp Chance Donahue thinks he’s clever, and that’s precisely what makes him so entertaining. The moment Evie drags me away from him, I’m calculating the minutes until I can reasonably excuse myself and pursue this little game further. James Whitcomb, indeed. As if I wouldn’t recognize Colby Whitley’s special experiment, as if I didn’t have anyone in place at his firm, watching for anything unusual, like bringing a boy with no background and no education into his orbit for five years. The boy doesn’t realize I’ve been aware of him for years, watching his rise at Acclivous with professional interest that has, I admit, developed a decidedly unprofessional edge.

Just twenty-two. What was I like at that age, a quarter of a century ago? Less pretty, that’s for sure, less scared, but maybe with the same edge of resentment.

I bestow my most charming smile on the Sandersons, who are indeed saying their goodbyes with the excessive formality of the mildly inebriated.

My mind, however, is elsewhere. On Chance Donahue, who is currently making his way toward a group of my more indiscreet executives, a fresh drink in hand and a carefully constructed expression of benign interest on his handsome face. Poor lamb. He has no idea who he’s playing with.

I make the appropriate noises at the Sandersons. All the while, I’m watching Chance from the corner of my eye. His technique is good. Smooth but not slick, self-deprecating in a way that invites confidences, nothing to make him stand out except his carefully subdued beauty, which I suppose he can’t hide completely. I can see why Colby values him. In another year or two, with proper mentorship, he could be formidable.

He makes me hungry.

I check my watch. The gala will continue for several more hours, but my obligation to play the attentive host is nearly fulfilled. I’ve shaken the necessary hands, made the expected small talk, ensured that the right people feel appropriately valued. Now I can attend to more personal matters.

I make my way through the crowd, accepting greetings with practiced efficiency, never stopping long enough for a proper conversation. Chance has moved to a relatively quiet corner near one of the emergency exits, a tactical position that gives him a view of the room while providing a quick escape route if needed. Smart boy.

He sees me coming. I watch the realization dawn on his face, the momentary flash of panic quickly suppressed beneath a mask of professional composure. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows nervously. So young, so transparent in his reactions despite his best efforts.

“James,” I say, deliberately using his false name as I position myself to block his exit route. “I believe we were interrupted earlier.”

“Ronan.” He straightens slightly, meeting my gaze with admirable steadiness. “I assumed you’d be occupied with more important guests for the remainder of the evening.”

“And miss the opportunity to unmask a corporate spy? Unlikely.” I enjoy the shock that widens his eyes before he can control his reaction. “Chance Donahue of Acclivous Solutions. Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you?”

To his credit, he doesn’t attempt further denial. His chin lifts slightly, a small gesture of useless defiance that I find absurdly charming. “Then I suppose there’s no point pretending.”

“None whatsoever.” I step closer, invading his personal space just enough to make him aware of our height difference, of the physical advantage I hold. “Though I am curious. Did Colby send you specifically, or did you volunteer for this little mission?”

“If you know why I’m here, why haven’t you called security?” Chance asks, deflecting rather than answering.

I smile slowly, allowing some of my genuine hunger to show. “Because you intrigue me, Chance. Your loyalty to Colby is admirable, if misguided. Your ambition is evident. And your tactics, while amateur, show promise.” I reach out, adjusting his tie in a gesture that’s deliberately intimate. “Besides, you really are quite attractive, and I enjoy watching attractive men squirm.”

His breathing accelerates, pupils dilating just enough to confirm that the attraction isn’t one-sided. Interesting.

“I don’t squirm,” he says, voice lower than before.

“No?” I let my fingers linger at his collar. “Then perhaps I’m not trying hard enough.”

The pulse at his throat jumps, his skin flushing beautifully. He’s caught between defiance and desire, anxiety and personal temptation. It’s delicious to witness.

“What do you want from me?” he asks, and there’s a husky quality to his voice that sends a jolt of pleasure down my spine.

“Initially? Information. Why is Colby so interested in Lazarus?” I trace a finger along his jawline, a touch that’s barely there but makes him catch his breath. “But now I find myself curious about you, Chance. How far you’re willing to go for your mentor. What lines you’re prepared to cross.”

His eyes darken, and for a moment I think he might actually lean into my touch. Then he catches himself, drawing back slightly. “I should go.”

“Should you?” I deliberately position myself to block his path. “Or should you see this through? Find out what Project Lazarus really is? Return to Colby with actual information instead of failure?”

Uncertainty flickers across his face. He clearly wants to leave. The professional, self-preserving part of him recognizes the danger I represent. But there’s another part, the ambitious, curious part, that’s tempted by what I’m offering.

And beneath all that, there’s something I recognize. I know his type. He thinks he hates authority, for all he’s Colby’s good little dog. He’ll snap at any hand that tries to leash him. But if the hand is firm enough, he’ll whine and lick it, growling his resentment between every lordlycaress of his master’s hand.

I’m almost sure he doesn’t know it. That no one has made him kneel. The thought channels blood to my cock, and I know how this ends. I wonder if he has any idea?

“If I stay,” Chance says carefully, “what exactly are you proposing?”

ADULT EXCERPT

Chance

“You have a very attractive mouth,” Ronan says, his voice dropping to a register that vibrates through me. “Small for a man’s, but with full lips. I’ve been thinking about it all evening. Wondering what it would look like wrapped around my cock.”

The crude statement, delivered in his cultured voice, hits me like a physical blow. Heat floods my face and rushes south so fast I feel dizzy with it. “That’s—you can’t just—”

“Can’t I?” His hand moves from my face to the back of my neck, firm and controlling. “We both know why you’re really here, Chance. The question is whether you’re brave enough to admit it and spread your legs.”

“I’m here for information about Project Lazarus,” I insist, but my voice betrays me, coming out breathy and uncertain.

Ronan’s smile is knowing and merciless. “Then let me give you some information.” He pulls me closer, until our bodies are nearly touching. “Project Lazarus is worth far more than whatever Colby thinks it is. And you, my dear, are in way over your head.”

Before I can respond, his mouth is on mine, hard and demanding. It’s not a seduction; it’s a conquest. His hand tightens on the back of my neck, holding me in place as his tongue pushes past my lips. And God help me, I let him. More than let him. I respond with an eagerness that would humiliate me if I had any capacity for shame left.

Ronan backs me against the door, his body pressing mine into the solid wood. He’s stronger than he looks, all lean muscle beneath that perfectly tailored suit. His free hand goes to my hip, fingers digging in possessively.

“Look at you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “So eager. So desperate. Does Colby know his loyal soldier is so easily compromised? One kiss, and you’re yielding to the enemy like a little slut.”

The mention of Colby is like cold water, bringing me back to myself enough to push against Ronan’s chest. “This isn’t—”

“Isn’t what?” Ronan grabs both my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head. “Isn’t what you came for? Isn’t what you’ve been thinking about since our eyes first met across the room?” His other hand slides down to cup me through my pants, finding me embarrassingly hard. “Your cock disagrees, Chance.”

I can’t suppress a moan as he squeezes lightly, my hips bucking involuntarily into his touch. This is insane. I’m letting the CEO of a rival company, the man I’m supposed to be gathering intelligence on, pin me to a door and grope me. I’m here for his amusement.

“That’s it,” Ronan encourages, his mouth moving to my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. Not biting yet, and I don’t want him to bite, I don’t. I press back against his teeth anyway. “Stop fighting what you want. Let me hear those pretty sounds.”

His hand works my belt open with practiced ease, then my fly, and then he’s pushing my pants and underwear down just enough to free my erection. I should stop him. I should remember my mission, my loyalty to Colby, my professional dignity.

But then his hand wraps around me, warm and sure and just too hard, just enough to be slightly painful, and all those thoughts dissolve like sugar in hot coffee.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, stroking me with devastating precision. “So responsive. I bet you’d come for me right now if I asked you to. But that would be no fun.” He releases me for a second. “Spin around.”

God help me, I do.