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“Work me as hard as you want.”

Did I mention I lose even more of my filter when I’m trying to keep it together? It was a thing.

Clearly.

Tony just raised an eyebrow. “Happy to.”

What?

His tone remained flat, but…

Nope.

Not going there.

This was already bad enough without adding him flirting with me to the equation. That hadn’t been flirting. It had just been… a weird choice of words. Just like mine.

It was fine.

I studied him better. No, it had just been my imagination. There was a chance I might be the tiniest bit overworked.

Cece kept saying I needed to go on a weekend getaway with them. I didn’t know what had happened—something must have—but for the last couple of months, whenever they weren’t at the club or glued to (one of) their keyboards, they were either planning a trip or boarding a plane, train, or something.

I loved that for them, but it was weird. It also left me with too much spare time on my hands. And the ability to make too many bad decisions.

“Can I ask you something?”

Case in point.

“You already are.” Tony smirked.

Repeat after me, brain: Arrogance is not attractive.

It wasn’t.

Period.

I had more sense than this, dammit. Sadly, I also had a weak spot for rolled up sleeves and corded muscles, and…

Fuck.

Sergio wouldn’t have to kill me—I’d do it myself, the second I was out of here.

“Anyway.” I cleared my throat. I didnotcome here because of some wild crush I always felt too embarrassed about to say anything. “It’s just… How are you coping with everything? You’re very distant at the club.”

To be fair, he’d always been distant. He usually monitored a room from a distance, in that way that made you impossibly aware of him even though he wasn’t even acknowledging your presence. It was a whole thing, and he’d more than mastered it.

It jarred me when he wasn’t there for the nights we all hung out together. Or when he was there, but he was completely spaced out. Well, not spaced out. He kept signing up as a DM, and he was good at it, but there was no heat. It was strange. And maybe it frustrated me more than I let on that I couldn’t talk about it with anyone because I was simping over a not-great person.

I mean, I didn’t have all the intel to build my own opinion, but I didn’t care too much either way, and that had to make it worse.

Tony sat forward, elbows on his knees. “And what else would you expect me to do?”

I ran a hand through my hair. I didn’t have an answer for him, but I was sure he knew as much. “Well, I don’t think it’s fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

That there’s no way out of this conversation because I’ve just talked myself into a corner.