V

Chapter 1

They've been acquainted for less than a month. Every few days Louis struts past the office only to catch a glimpse of wild curls and the deep rumble of laughter. He was lucky to get the job, the hiring process intimidating not by the competition but due to the sharp cut of the suits the men wore while evaluating him. The thorough questions, the high stress on loyalty, and the endless papers for him to sign. Most thought it too invasive, too intense, to become ornamental. Louis could see through the high gloss surfaces and sleek design inside the club. Money like this didn't come from nowhere, he knew what he was getting involved in. Who he would be involved with.

The man kept himself purposefully removed, the distance helping obscure his mysterious persona, which Louis assumed he wore with the sole purpose of keeping people intrigued. Louis was intrigued. Maybe he should have been careful about it, the naked desperation simmering in his gut, but he wasn't. Every time their eyes met it engulfed him. It must have shown, because he was rewarded with a slow and wicked smile.

Nearly a month since he learned Louis' name and started greeting him with sly winks. Weeks Louis spent scanning the crowd every time he sashayed onto the floor to mingle with posh society in less fabric than he slept in. He wasn't ashamed of his body, couldn't be with this job, but on rare occasions those green eyes electrified every inch of revealed skin in a way Louis could feel from across the room.

Off limits. One of the many agreements Louis signed stated so. None of the employees had been successful catching his eye in the time Louis' been there, especially with no touching or teasing allowed. Not that he's around much to do so. Every glimpse is fleeting, and Louis never sees him twice on the same night. Louis imagines leading the largest criminal organization on this coast involves keeping a busy schedule.

Now it's late, so late it's early, and Louis' returning to the change rooms to rinse the sweat and hands he can still feel on him from a long night of work. The change in shift and position was more physically demanding than he's used to, and it also means using the rooms near the office instead of the familiar ones provided backstage. He's rubbing a stubborn ache in his neck when he catches sight of the man at the other end of the hall. His feet give a small hiccup he prays goes unnoticed. Louis ducks into the change room where his street clothes are bundled in a mess at the bottom of his locker, running a hand through sweaty hair and breathing out in relief at finally having a moment alone.

The reprieve is short lived. He's there, closing the door behind him with greedy green eyes and a twist of a smile. He crowds Louis against the wall slowly, plenty of time to step away. It's impossible. Louis is frozen under him and they both know it. He comes closer, loose curls brushing against Louis' face, firm hands on his waist to hold him in place. Only when he has him, with his breath on Louis' neck and the immovable weight of his body caging him in, does he speak.

"Louis," he hums, "I've been watching you." He bites lightly at the sensitive skin by Louis' pulse. "Have you been watching me?"

Louis swallows with a dry throat and nods, all words abandoning him. He feels the man smile, another little nip on his neck.

"I've been thinking about you, too. Do you want me to show you what I think about?"

He shouldn't. His signature is on the bloody papers swearing he wouldn't. But that was before Louis knew the musky smell of him and the texture of a fine silk suit against his bare skin.

"Please," he whines.

Harry's teeth are no longer gentle, his mouth a searing wet heat.

Louis' never seen him in anything other than a suit, but there's an underlying wildness to Harry. The curls he does nothing to tame, the blunt way in which he speaks, the relentless focus of his eyes that pin you down without consideration for their intensity. He's an animal wrapped in tailored threads. Yet the precise way he pulls Louis' hips against his and the measured way he runs a hand along his sides until it rests gently at the crook of his neck and shoulder, it all speaks to a measure of control Louis imagines only comes out when he's fucking or killing.