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“Huh? Oh, yeah.” I polished it off while I wasn’t paying attention. I look up, my eye caught by a light on in the second floor window. The shadow of a figure passes over the window, transformed by the ripples of the gauzy curtain, and I shiver. “What did you say his show was again?”

“Lysander?” Orion stacks my plate on his, waving away a curious moth. “He does a rope suspension performance with Bear.”

I watch the window while Orion goes inside, even though I shouldn’t intrude. The curtain twitches. My heart pounds and I tear my gaze away guiltily.

Right.Sunday is BDSM night — and I haven’t worked a Sunday yet. Is that intentional?

I can’t deny I want to see it. Haughty yet awkward Lysander, immobilized in intricate ropework, hanging like a caught butterfly. Does heenjoyit? For some reason the thought makes me hot all over. Yet I feel like a voyeur even imagining it. My gaze flickers back to the window, but the shadow is gone.

There’s only one hiccup when it comes to sticking around: I haven’t met the boss yet, and technically I’m still in my trial period. It’s not like I’ve been counting the days or anything, but… well, that’s a lie. I know the exact date the trial ends. Everything seems great, and I’m sure I have no reason to worry, but the fact remains no permanent contract has materialized. My brain is eager to take that and run with it.

What if they don’t want to keep me?

I groan, staring at the popcorn ceiling of my bedroom.It’s gonna be fine.

If no one says anything, neither will I. Maybe they’ll just keep scheduling me.

“Hey, your probation’s up today,” Plato says when I walk in the next day, which puts a pin in that plan. “Congrats, man!”

“Uh, thanks?” I grin nervously.

He beams. “You’d better go talk to Syril and get your am — your, uh, contract signed.”

“Syril’s here?” My stomach gurgles with acid, and probably also confusion about the potato chips I ate for lunch.

“Oh yeah, they’re waiting for you.” He claps me on the shoulder and I stagger. “Welcome to the team.”

Apprehension grips my gut as I shuffle down the hallway. The short walk turns me from a grown-ass man of twenty four to a nineteen year old kid again, waiting to hear his doom spelled out in the curt, merciless voice of the law.Two yearsrings in my ears, which is dumb as hell. It’s a job, not a sentencing hearing.

But if I lose this job… I’m kind of running out of options.

The office door looms. Before I can knock, it swings open to reveal a tall, slender individual in a demure gray suit pressed so sharp the creases could cut. Long, gray-streaked dark hair is slicked back from their face, highlighting a probing gaze that immediately makes me feel pinned like an insect.

I put a hand out instinctively.

“H-hi, uh, Syril? I’m Ezra. Ezra Pine.”

“Yes, I know.” Their grip is firm and dry as their voice.

I flush. “Sorry.”

“Come in.” Syril steps aside.

“I like working here,” I blurt as Syril sits behind the desk. I hover next to the chair instead of sitting. One impeccably groomed eyebrow goes up and my face heats worse, the horribly familiar warmth warning me I’m about to start babbling. But when did I ever let warning signs stop me? “The vibe — the, uh, atmosphere is really welcoming. The guys are great. I even likethe customers, which is saying something. I’ve really enjoyed the last few weeks.”

“I’m glad,” Syril says with an amused look.

“I know you took a chance on me, and I’m grateful.”Someone please stop me.What if they finally looked at my background check? What if theydidn’t, but my stupid blabbering makes them check it out?

Syril holds up a hand. “Ezra.”

My mouth snaps shut.

“I want to keep you on.”

I swallow. “But…?”

There’s always a but.