Page 5 of Manhattan State of Mind

He’s indisputably the sexiest, most unapproachable man I’ve ever encountered.

Good Lord.Everything about the guy screams raw masculinity. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him if I were paid to.

Wolfe heads up the casinos and clubs, while the Quinn brothers run the hotels. Together they seem to own every brick in America.

Okay, slight exaggeration, but they are loaded.

Andy scurries over to him like a puppy rushing to get a pat. “Sir. Welcome! Welcome to the design floor. Mr. Wolfe, it’s an absolute honor to have you here.” Wow, dial it down, dude. The team collectively cringes. “This is where the magic happens. Team, on your feet so Mr. Wolfe can get a look at all of you!”

Wolfe levels Andy with a look so fierce his eyes seem like black holes. I swear, for a second, I glimpse a hint of sharp, predatory teeth.

We rise as one, ready to be inspected.

“He’ll be asking us to curtsy next,” Matty mutters, not as under his breath as he thinks.

I step on his foot hard to shut him up.

“I’m sure you’re aware why I’m here,” Wolfe says coolly, his intense gaze scanning the room. “We initiateProject Tangra in less than two weeks. Unless you’ve been living under a rock in Central Park, you know this is an important venture for the business.”

No kidding. Tangra’s been the buzzword for a month. We’re rolling out the “ultimate cashless casino” experience. The aim is to make every Quinn & Wolfe casino across America completely cash-free.

Place your bets, collect your winnings, all with a simple tap on your phone––you’re in the game. No more clunky chips, no queuing at ATMs, no cash transactions slowing down the thrill of the gamble. It’s like a high roller’s dream come true. A dream where you have no idea how much you’ve spent until the harsh light of day. Just how Wolfe likes it.

All of our projects are named after stars because, as they put it, we’re “reaching for the stars.” It’s cheesy as hell. Thankfully, Tangra’s name is more digestible than its predecessor, Xamidimura. That star was a nightmare to spell correctly in every damn email.

His penetrating gaze sweeps over us—over the developers, Dwayne, Taylor, Wendy, me. And then, it stops. I feel my pulse pick up speed under his scrutiny.

Why has it stopped?

I offer a tentative smile which he doesn’t return, waiting for him to move on.

He doesn’t.

My knees nearly buckle.

He seems to be examining me, his frown deepening by the second.

Shit.

What did I do?

Is there something foul smeared across my face?

My pulse spikes. No wonder they say never to stare down a wolf.

Only when I glance down do I realize the source of his wrath.

All bodily functions cease. Breathing. Blinking. Blood flow.

In my hands, I’m clutching Matty’s ridiculous caricature of a wolf in a suit, complete with an oversized tail and teeth.

Matty, you utter fuckwit. Why are you so talented at caricatures?This could not be a more perfect likeness of Wolfe than if he’d sat for it himself.

You’ve got to be kidding me. The squiggles. Oh God, I didn’t even notice the squiggles. Is that…? Yep.

That’s definitely a cock and balls. Some smart-ass has added a big veiny cock with a rather impressive head.

With a look of sheer horror, I attempt to hide the incriminating sketch from Wolfe’s unflinching gaze, failing miserably.