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“What was that?” Trey says, his voice light with humor.

“Nothing.” I clear my throat and smack the edges of the papers against the desk to straighten the stack. Tapping the phone screen, I check the time. “I'm done for the day, plus I want some downtime before dinner tonight. Let's head out in five.”

Trey scoffs. “You're still going?”

Rolling my eyes, I swipe my iPad and papers off the desk and shove them into my bag with more force than necessary. “Yes, I'm still going. I still need a break, and I still need real food. And wine, and a cigarette. Can we stop on the way home?”

“No, you're trying to quit, remember?”

Of course I fucking remember. Worst random life goal I've ever made, and I've made some pretty stupid ones. Let’s be honest here—the likelihood of me quitting smoking for good is the same as me owning that magical unicorn I always promised myself I would have as a pet.

“Too bad unicorns aren't real.”

“Sure they are,” he says, and I bite back a smile. He and T both just go with the flow now when it comes to my ramblings. They both know I have a zillion random conversations going on up in my head at once, and sometimes my response to those conversations becomes more vocal than imaginary. “Come on, Mess, let's get you home for your hot date.”

“It's not a date,” I bite out as I pass by him to exit the office. “He crosses his legs.”

“What?” Trouble's laugh echoes down the bustling hall. Every set of eyes turns toward us before focusing back on their work.

“Nothing. Just know it's not a date, okay?” I tug my laptop bag higher up on my shoulder to keep it from slipping.

His fingers wrap around the leather strap, carefully pulling it from my shoulder and sliding it on to his own. “Whatever you say, Mess. Just know that tonight, when it does turn out to be a date, I'm going to love telling you I told you so.”

Biting my lip, I shake my head and start down the hall.

Why does he have to be so adorable?

Chapter Five

Trey

She's too naive for her own good. Beautiful, hilarious, but naive on the extent of corruption and depravity in this city.

Of course it's a motherfucking date. And here I am stuck in the motherfucking shadows watching as my girl dines with a man I would kill to switch places with.

“You're glaring again,” Tank says through the earpiece. “Do I need to put you outside?”

“I'm not a damn puppy,” I say into the tiny mic hidden beneath my cuff.

“Then stop acting like a lovesick one.”

Chuckles and razzing from the other guys sound through the connection.

“Ha, ha, ha, laugh it up, fuckers. I just don't like how close he's sitting to the VP.”

“For reasons other than her safety,” Tank retorts, and I grumble a curse to myself. “If you can't handle this, then I'm questioning your ability to keep her safe on the road.”

My spine stiffens at the hidden threat.

“I'll be fine,” I snap into the mic as nonchalantly as possible. “I just don't know this guy, and it has me on edge.”

“Stop lying to yourself,” Gremlin says over the line. “We know it. You know it. She knows it.”

“Knows what?” I ask, curiosity lacing my words.

“That you're fucking pussy whipped.” Gremlin cackles, and the entire team bursts out laughing.

“Shut it down.” Tank's deep voice sobers the radio waves. “Stop being a distraction, Playboy, or you're off the team.”