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‘It’s exactly how I like it. Do you have a dossier on me?’ she teased, sipping with pleasure.

He smirked, eyes resting on her lips for a moment. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

She narrowed her eyes at him, certain there was a file on her.

She was about to launch into more teasing banter when she reminded herself that for this meeting, she was Chief Bianchi, this was Signet, andhewas a shifter of colossal power.

She had to keep professional; she’d come to conduct serious business, not to get seduced by a sensual, sexy, and intriguing man.

The door whispered open, and the room’s magnetism amplified as a group of men prowled in.

Santi first, sauntering to the central table with that infuriating, easy smirk tugging at his lips.

He caught sight of her and grinned. ‘Hola, trouble.’

She shot him a smile. ‘Hey, tour guide.’

‘Survived for the first night on our glorified prison can with our warden?’ he added, tilting his chin toward Xander.

‘Just about,’ she smiled at the charming man.

Santi chuckled.

Behind him prowled the rest of thehermanos.

Xander greeted his squadron with quick hugs and a flash of his beautiful teeth, demonstrating they were more brothers than anything else.

Still, she clocked the power he and they held, quiet, edged, freakin’ electrified.

Xander introduced them, his timbre carrying across the boardroom in a honey-and-smoke drawl that ratcheted her pulse. ‘Savvine, meet the Signet strong guard.’

They stood around the long obsidian table like carved legends, broad shoulders, coiled grace, easy menace softened by half-smiles.

Xander gestured to the man closest to her. ‘You’ve already met Santiago Alvarro, my XO.’

Santiago inclined his head, his hair slicked back, stubble lining his sculpted jaw.

His toned physique strained against the crisp tactical shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal wrists thick with power and a sliver of blade ink down one forearm.

Savvine smiled and raised a chin to him.

His grin was lazy and confident as he sat in a chair and slung his boots on the table, to Xander’s huff.

The Signet leader moved down the line. ‘Next to him is Mak Essen. Our in-house lawyer and a mean shot with a Darsk rifle.He’s also a direct descendant, the firstborn son of the Sauvage dynasty, and graces us with his presence purely by choice.’

Savvine’s brows rose.

The Sauvage Family was one of the most influential families in the convoy, and their titles and fortune were beyond measure. Its coffers were not quite up to Bianchi’s sizable wealth, but were comparable.

The formidable cartel clan was also one of the most secretive and ruthless, keeping to themselves and unknown to many.

Mak was tall, lean, and smoldering, his violet sable hair and beard neatly cut. His face belonged on the cover of a holo zine posing as a film lead actor who made women weep.

His eyes were striking, an unusual gold and gray rimmed with dark lashes, unreadable and precise.

Gilded black ink spiraled across his collarbones, disappearing under a fitted, charcoal suit that screamed bespoke but moved like armor.

His boots were mirror-shined. His posture was all coiled readiness.