18
Mateo walked over, holding a mug.
“Here,” he said, placing it gently in front of Silas. “Made it the way you like. No sugar, little milk. You don’t seem like a sugar guy.”
Silas blinked. His fingers brushed the warm cup slowly. “Thanks…”
Mateo raised a brow, eyeing him for a second. “You good?”
Silas nodded too fast. “Yeah. Just… coffee smells strong.”
Mateo smirked. “It’s not poison, Reeds.”
Silas forced a smile and took a sip. Mistake. It was perfect. Just the way he liked it. Hot, rich, smooth.
God.
He looked up—Mateo was still standing there, arms crossed, watching him like he knew something.
“I make great coffee,” Mateo said casually, stepping back toward the stove. “And I look good doing it too.”
Silas nearly choked.
Mateo didn’t even flinch. Just whistled and grabbed a pan like he hadn’t just dropped that line casually.
Silas stared at his coffee.
Help.
Mateo walked out of the closet dressed in a sharp black suit. No tie, just a few buttons left open like he had zero respect for hearts or rules.
Silas stared from the couch, mouth slightly parted. This man…
Mateo fixed his cufflinks, grabbed his sleek black folder and checked the time. “I’ve got two meetings today. One in the VIP lounge, the other somewhere more… confidential.”
Silas sat up. “Should I follow or—”
“No need,” Mateo cut in smoothly, grabbing his sunglasses. “I don’t want to cause attention. Just stay close. Blend in. If anything feels off, I expect you to show up.”
Silas nodded slowly.
Bzzt.
His comms clicked in his ear again.
“Pay attention, Agent Reeds. Pay attention. This is your first shadow mission.”
Silas flinched slightly, trying not to make it obvious.
Mateo paused. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah. Yeah, just… boat nausea,” Silas lied, blinking fast.
“Right.” Mateo gave him a once-over, then slid his watch on and walked toward the door. “I’ll be moving cabin to cabin after lunch. Keep your eyes open.”
Silas stood, straightened his shirt and followed behind. “Copy that.”
The door shut behind them with a soft click. Mateo walked ahead—broad shoulders, shiny shoes, hot as sin—while Silas kept two steps behind, trying his best to focus.
“Pay attention, Agent Reeds.”
I am, he thought. Just not to the mission.
The VIP lounge smelled like expensive .
Mateo walked in , lips curved in that lazy half-smile that made people lean closer without realizing why.
He shook hands with two men in suits, all fake laughter and business talk. Then came the third—her.
She wore red. Tight. She leaned in when he spoke to her, giggled softly, touched his chest like she’d done it before.
Silas watched everything from behind a marble pillar, blending into the shadows like he was trained to.
“Good job, Agent Reeds,” his comms buzzed in his ear. “Stay close.”
Yeah, right. Close? His fists were already clenched.
Mateo said something to the woman and she laughed again.
This time, she hooked a finger into his jacket and pulled him closer. Mateo leaned in, whispered something in her ear—something that made her eyes flutter.
Then the woman pressed a kiss right to his jaw.
Silas blinked.
What the hell.
He wasn’t supposed to care.
But suddenly, his breath caught, and his chest felt tight. His fingers curled tighter at his sides as he watched Mateo place his hand on the small of her back and guide her toward the bar.
Silas stepped back quickly, jaw tense.
He didn’t even know why it bothered him so much.
But it did.
“Good job, Agent Reeds,” the comms repeated.
Silas turned away, cursing under his breath.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Whatever you say.”
Mateo sat at the cruise ship boardroom now, surrounded by rich men in fancier suits and louder voices.
They were all laughing and tossing around words like stocks and private deals, but silas wasn't hearing a damn thing.
His eyes drifted lazily to the golden light bouncing off the wine glasses. Then his ear buzzed.
“Agent Reeds,” the voice crackled, “get under the bar. Pick up anything useful. One or two keywords will do.”
Silas sighed low, then crouched beside the counter, slipping into the small space under the bar like a ghost.
From there, he could hear better—names, numbers, a mention of the word shipment—his mind started connecting dots.
Until—
He felt it.
Someone’s foot nudged his knee.
Slowly, Silas looked up.
Mateo was already peeking under, his head cocked casually like he was just checking for a dropped spoon or something.
Their eyes met.
Silas froze.
Mateo blinked once. Then slowly, his lips curved into that infuriating little smirk.
Silas rolled his eyes and mouthed, “danm I'm done for.”
The meeting continued and Mateo was barely focusing because Silas had unbuttoned his belt under the damn table.
Over to you Mr Woods any suggestions on market trends? One of the executives asked .
Mateo opened his mouth to answer—but his breath hitched.
Sila's lips had found his inner thigh.
Right under the table.
Mateo's knuckles turned white on the armrest. He swallowed hard, eyes wide.
“Y-Yes… Mr cage,” he croaked, voice barely stable.
Mr cage nodded slowly, unaware of the war under his feet.
“If you do this, the shipments in the South will fall in line.
“yes right ..I love the trend . Love that,” Mateo muttered, trying not to gasp as Silas’s tongue flicked right over a spot that made him want to throw the whole table across the room.
Mateo’s palm was sweating against the remote.
He clicked through the next slide blindly, lips parted slightly—like he was trying to speak but forgot every language he knew.
Silas’s mouth was moving lower.
His breath was warm. His tongue—unapologetic.
Mateo nearly groaned.
Someone cleared their throat.
He snapped his eyes up. “Uh—uhm—yes. We should, uh, definitely explore the... that route,” he forced out, nodding too quickly.
Silas hummed against his skin.
Mateo jolted.
His thigh twitched, and his foot kicked the table leg.
One of the execs raised a brow. “You good, Mr. Woods?”
“Fine. Great,” Mateo coughed, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “Back pain. You know how it is.”
“Ah,” the man chuckled, shaking his head. “Getting old.”
Silas’s teeth grazed him—just a little.
Mateo’s jaw clenched like steel. He gripped the table so tight his knuckles had gone completely bloodless.
And then?
Silas did the one thing that made him black out for a second.
Mateo’s eyes fluttered shut, just for a moment, and when they opened—he was glaring down at the table, silently praying for this meeting to end now.
Or maybe not.
Maybe he wanted it to last forever.