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“I only recognized Tobe because I bought a painting from him years ago,” the guy added.

“Hmm.”

“How is he doing?”

Naomi slowly turned a page. “Fine, as far as I know.”

“He’s an interesting fellow who lives an interesting life. But then, most imps do. Say . . . have you ever met any of the ghost artists he works with?”

Unease crawled its way up her spine. She kept her voice casual as she replied, “Nope.”

“Ah. You two aren’t close friends, then?” He drew out the word “friends” a little, and it seemed like a prompt—an attempt to have her correct him on her connection to Tobe.

He knew they were anchors, she thought. It made her wonder what else he knew but didn’t want to reveal, intent on appearing to know little about Tobe. She met his gaze. “Look, if you have some interest in dating him, I suggest you—”

“Oh no,” he interrupted, his eyes widening. “I’m a straight male with a mate and kids.”

The “mate and kids” part was a clear lie, but she chose not to call him on it. “There are people who wouldn’t let that hold them back.”

“I suppose you’re right. But no, I have no interest in him that way. ” His oh-so-friendly smile returned. “I was considering whether to contact him about acquiring more artwork, that’s all. But then it struck me that I could go straight to the source instead—it often works out cheaper.”

“Can’t help you with that.” She returned her attention to the portfolio.

“He’s never mentioned any names?”

“Nope.”

“That’s a shame.”

Just then, Khloe’s mind touched hers. My dad recognized the dude. His name is Daniel Phillips. He’s a PI .

Hmm, interesting. Send me that photo . I want to show it to Tobe.

Way ahead of you on that — I did it about five seconds ago.

Naomi shot the imp a look.

Khloe lifted her shoulders, all innocence. What? I’m bored and nosy — it’s a bad combination in an imp if you expect to keep them out of your business. You know this already.

Naomi rolled her eyes. The sound of footfalls approaching made her look to the side.

Reaching the sofa, Harper smiled. “Sorry about the wait, Naomi. Come take a seat.”

Gladly . Naomi returned the portfolio to the table and, not even sparing the PI a glance, stood upright.

Abruptly, Tobe’s psyche crashed into hers, humming with anger. A fucking PI approached you?

Yes, though he didn’t identify himself as one , Naomi replied as she started following Harper to her station.

What the hell did he say?

He acted like he’d recognized me from having once seen me with you, but I’m pretty sure he knew we were anchors.

He said he met you years ago when buying a painting from you, and then he asked me if I’d met any of your gho st artists.

He wanted names, claiming he’d rather buy a painting from ‘the source’. Obviously, I pled ignorance.

There was a pause. I’m thinking that he might have been hired by Stefan. If Phillips found out that you’re my anchor, he might have thought I shared personal details with you about my connections. Do you think he suspected you of being one of the artists?

Not at all. He would surely have otherwise hinted at it, or at least asked if she was into art.

Let’s keep it that way.

Oh, he’s leaving , she noticed. I guess he’s done with the questions.

He might nose around for a little longer. Be on the lookout.

I will.

“Everything okay?” Harper asked, gesturing for Naomi to settle on the recliner.

“Yes,” Naomi replied, taking a seat. “I was just having a little telepathic chat with Tobe.”

“Ah, how’s he doing? Still far too reckless for his own good?”

“Oh, totally.”

The sphinx gave a soft snort, her reflective blue eyes swirling as they shifted to an oak brown—they changed colors frequently. “That’s no shocker. Well, you ready for this?”

“More than.”

Staring down at the sniveling male on his office floor, Luka ordered, “Get him out of here.”

Two of his demons snatched the beaten hellbull up by his arms, making no effort to avoid his injuries. His answering whimper was music to Belial’s ears—it had briefly participated in making the bastard bleed.

Once the hellbull had been dragged out of the room, Luka turned to a security guard who manned the entrance to the gambling den. “I highly doubt he’ll come back to Infernal. If he does, be sure to express what an exceptionally bad idea it was.”

“With pleasure,” said Abe, no happier with the motherfucker who’d tried blackmailing one of their waitresses. “I’ll spread the word that he’s banned.”

Luka cut his gaze to Valen, one of his sentinels. “Dig up whatever dirt on the hellbull you can find. Expose it to his nearest and dearest.”

It was only fair, considering the bastard had threatened to do the same thing to the waitress if she didn’t feed him information about Luka. A beating wasn’t enough of a punishment.

Valen gave a curt nod. “It’ll be done.”

His jaw hard, Luka stalked out of his office and strode toward the private stairwell. The buzz that came with the release of violence rode his system, flooding his veins and sharpening his senses like adrenaline.

With his bodyguards at his heels, he descended the stairwell until he arrived at the second floor. The guard manning the door there opened it wide with a respectful nod.

Luka prowled into the den’s luxury VIP area, aware of the brothers still following close behind him.

Gentle lighting rained down from the glimmering chandeliers above him.

Soft patterned carpeting ran throughout.

Velvet sofas in shades of royal blue or soft lilac were dotted around, always accompanied by backlit tables.

The chrome bar was a shorter version of the one situated beyond the roped-off set of steps that led to this section.

The classy feel continued in the main area, with its leather sofas, strobe lights, and purple and blue LED uplighting.

There was chattering, glasses tinkling, alarms pinging, machines blooping, dice tumbling, and dealers calling out. The air-conditioned air bore the scents of cologne, perfume, citrus freshener, alcohol, and hot machinery.

He swept his gaze over the den, not worried he’d find anything untoward occurring. For one thing, the guards monitoring the place via the domed cameras never missed a thing. For another, it was rare that any problems cropped up. People weren’t exactly eager to piss off legions.

The exclusive den had many, many members. Some occupied themselves at roulette wheels, card tables, or the brightly lit slot machines. Others lounged around sipping drinks. Then there were those who preferred the basement, which featured fighting cages.

Luka immediately claimed the L-shaped sofa he routinely chose. The twins joined him, seating themselves on either end of the piece of furniture.

A smiling waitress appeared almost instantly. Though not the waitress who usually worked this corner of the VIP area. “Can I get you any drinks?” asked Draya.

Luka waved off the offer of a drink while the brothers politely declined too.

Still the banshee lingered. “I take it you dealt with the hellbull?” she prompted softly, moving closer.

Luka inwardly sighed. A relatively new employee, the curvy blonde caught male attention easily. And yes, she’d initially snagged his. She’d also flashed him plenty of invitational smiles, making her interest in him clear.

Luka had gone no further than mild flirtation due to having only recently ended a brief fling. He had planned on making a move eventually, but then he’d laid eyes on Naomi, and his interest had shifted. Though Draya had sensed that shift, she persisted in flirting with him.

“I did.” His response was curt. Invited no further conversation. Most people scurried away when he spoke in that tone. To her credit, she didn’t let it chase her off, though a hint of nerves showed in her body language.

“And I’m confident that you made it hurt. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” she offered, a suggestive note to her voice that said it wasn’t all she was offering.

“I’m good.”

She licked her lips, seeming uncertain. “Call me bold, but you don’t look it. Is there nothing at all I can get you?”

The head waitress materialized, her brow creased. “Draya, I don’t know why you’re over here—go serve the customers in your section. This one is mine, as you well know.”

Irritation flared in Draya’s gaze, but she quashed it fast. “Apologies, Bianca, I was—”

“Don’t care,” said Bianca, as no-nonsense as always—a trait her mate Valen adored. “Go.” She waited until the other waitress was out of hearing range before turning to Luka. “She wants in your pants, in case you didn’t know.”

“I do know.”

Bianca sniffed. “Anyone here want drinks?”

They all answered in the negative.

“Holler if you change your mind.” With that, she walked off.

Nikandr spared Draya a subtle glance and then looked at Luka. “I thought you were planning to hit that at some point.”

Luka draped an arm over the back of the sofa. “I’d considered it, but then I changed my mind.”

“I’m guessing it was a certain siren who brought about that change,” hedged Mikhail, his eyes smiling. “I get it. She’s stunning, not to mention your type. Have you done anything about it yet?”

“I made my intentions clear to her last night. I only left as soon as I did because her psi-mate showed up.”

“So she’s on board?” Nikandr checked.

“I got the sense that she is, though she didn’t verbally confirm it.

I’ll find out for sure later tonight when I go back to her place.

” Luka scraped his teeth over his lower lip.

“I had intended to hold out a little longer, but then Iain brought her fully onto my radar by fucking up so spectacularly.” If he was honest, he didn’t like knowing that the psi-demon had touched her. His entities loathed it.

“On that note . . . by all reports, Iain is staying away from her as ordered. But I’m keeping a tail on him until I’m confident that his obsession has worn off.”

“It shouldn’t take too long,” said Nikandr. “Right?”

“Another ten days or so. Two weeks at most,” Luka estimated. “If he’d met and bonded with his anchor, it might have helped him recover quicker.”

“Speaking of anchors, I doubt Naomi’s psi-mate will be good with you edging your way into her life,” said Mikhail. “He didn’t seem happy that you were at her house. She might turn you down so as not to be at odds with him.”

“She might,” Luka allowed. “Especially when it can’t be denied that he has reason to dislike my being around her.

I didn’t exactly support Ella’s involvement with Viper, so I’d be a hypocrite to condemn Tobe for voicing his objections out of protectiveness.

As for whether she’ll turn me away to placate him .

. . I suppose I’ll find out soon enough. ”