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Enya paused at a massive sliding door, keying it open with her badge.

‘I think Commander Roman is inside waiting for you,’ she said, her voice dropping with awe. ‘I’ll be on call outside. Let me know if you need anything.’

Savvine smiled. ‘Sante. For the story and the escort.’

Enya inclined her head. ‘You’re welcome, anytime, Chief.’

Savvine walked through the door. Xander stood at the head of the table, broad-shouldered in a black-stitched Henley rolled to the elbows.

His thick thighs were encased in all-sable stretch trousers tucked in chunky combat boots.

Eyes cast to a commtab on the table, his unusual amethyst hair falling over his strong brow.

A fitted holster sat across his muscled chest, a sleek silver weapon concealed in the underarm sling. His presence was magnetic and commanding.

He glanced up as Savvine eased in and raked her from head to toe, his gaze scorching her.

Her entire being lurched as she stepped forward.

‘Chief Bianchi,’ he rasped.

Damn, she was weak for his rough, velvety drawl, and its blended Kwavi roots and Spanish lilt that curled down her spine in a heated coil.

‘Glad you made it,’ he added, pulling a chair for her, and she sat.

‘Kahawa?’ he drawled.

She nodded, unpacking her bag, sliding out her commtab and notepad, subtly checking out his tight buns in his sable combat sweats.

That was one fine ass.

He moved to the heavy chromekaffeinemachine in the corner.

With a few deft presses, the rich, spicy scent of roasted beans filled the room.

While he prepped her beverage, she tore her eyes from him and took the time to gaze around her.

The boardroom was an enormous, oval, black-stone structure reinforced with transparent steel.

A long obsidian-glass table gleamed beneath a chandelier of floating crystal nodes suspended in magnetic levitation.

The light danced across the ceiling, casting an ambient, starry glow over the walls, which was a marvel.

Shelves of reinforced plexiglass held an array of rare weapons behind them, from carved wood pistols to antique blades from Earth’s forgotten wars, and alloy rifles marked with alien glyphs.

Also, what appeared like a preserved plasma halberd from the Sygari, a band of space raiders that had preyed on the armada at the start of its transversal journey.

The chairs were deep, black leather with subtle cushioning molded for long strategy sessions.

The table’s center pulsed with embedded holo-tech, flickering with a slow rotation of the flotilla layout.

Laid out neatly along one side of the table were refreshments that made her blink.

A tray of chilled water bottles sat on the surface, featuring glasses with etched Signet sigils and a dark decanter of whiskey that was undoubtedly older than most star cruisers in the flotilla.

Alongside was a spread of food, charcuterie boards, fresh-cut fruit, and her weakness, butter and crisp, crusty bread.

Xander poured her drink and brought it to her with a flourish, eyes gleaming as she reached for the cup.