Page 27

“Charmed,” Diego said, voice smooth, eyes glinting like he was already sizing me up. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Only the good stuff, I hope.” I flicked my gaze to Claire again, catching the spark of irritation there.
She wasn’t happy I was playing nice with him instead of her. Good. I wasn’t here to make this easy.
A waiter glided by—black tie, tray gleaming—and I snagged three flutes of top-shelf champagne, handing one to Diego, then Claire. She took it with a cool nod, her fingers brushing mine just enough to send a jolt through me. That kiss flashed again—her mouth on mine, hot and fierce—and I shoved it down.
Not yet.
“Enjoying Charleston so far?” I asked Diego, keepingmy tone casual, like I wasn’t plotting every move of this night.
He sipped the champagne, smirking over the rim. “It’s growing on me. Humidity’s a bitch, but the architecture? The intrigue? I could get used to it.”
“Stick around long enough, it’ll sink its teeth in,” I said, grinning. “How about a tour? Give you the lay of the land.”
Diego’s eyes lit up, but Claire cut in, voice sharp. “What about me?”
I turned to her, slow, deliberate, letting my gaze drag over that dress—those curves—before meeting her eyes. “You’ll get your turn. Patience.”
Her jaw tightened, but Diego laughed, clapping her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him in line.”
She shot him a look—half betrayal, half amusement—and I nodded toward the hall. “This way, Gil.”
We moved through the crowd, Diego keeping pace, his stride easy but his eyes sharp, taking it all in. The ops room was off-limits, obviously, but I showed him the bones of Dominion Hall—marble floors, high ceilings, the spiral stairs that could double as a sniper perch if you knew how to use ‘em. He was a good conversationalist—strategic, probing without pushing too hard. I liked him already. Guy had a brain and knew how to use it.
We hit the garage—wide, shadowed, lined with cars that cost more than most people’s lives. In the center, under a spotlight, sat our black viper, Obsidian—sleek, mean, all curves and menace. Diego stopped short, letting out a low whistle.
“Jesus,” he said, circling it. “What’s the story here?”
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, playing coy. “Family mascot. Best not to have it out when the elite are here.”
He raised a brow, not buying it, but didn’t press. “Fascinating. Matches the vibe.”
“Does, doesn’t it?” I said, smirking. Obsidian was more than that—Dad’s find, a reminder from before everything went dark—but Diego doesn’t need to know that.
We finished the loop, back to the main hall, and there was Claire—surrounded. Men circled her like sharks, some of Charleston’s most influential assholes. Married assholes, mostly—senators, CEOs, a Citadel colonel with a smug grin I’d love to wipe off his face. She was holding court, that silver dress catching the light, her laugh sharp and controlled, but I could see the edge in her posture. She was working them, digging, and they were too dumb to notice.
I cut through the pack—straight line, no apologies—my shoulders brushing suits aside. They scattered, muttering, but I didn’t give a shit. My eyes were on her—those curves, those eyes—and fuck, I couldn’t tear them away.
Want clawed at me, hot and urgent. I wanted her. Right now, under me, on me, any way I could get her.
Easy, Dane. Take it easy.
“Enjoying yourself?” I asked, voice low, stepping close enough to smell her—something sharp and floral, cutting through the champagne haze.
She tilted her head, cool as hell. “It’s a party. What’s not to enjoy?”
“Thought you might like the grounds,” I said, nodding toward the doors. “Fresh air. Quieter.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded and took my arm. “Lead the way.”
We stepped outside, the night thick with humidity, gas lanterns flickering along the paths. The crowd was adistant hum now, and it was just us—her heels clicking on the stone, my steps silent beside her.
“Making progress on your investigation?” I asked, keeping it light, testing her.
She smirked, sidestepping. “Oh, you know. Digging where I can. Charleston’s full of secrets.”
“Like Department 77?” I tossed it out, casual, watching her face.