“Fine.” I sighed dramatically. “But just so you know, Leviathan and I have unfinished business. I expect a proper debriefing later.”
Matt’s answering laugh echoed off the shower walls. “Debriefing? Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Would you prefer ‘private performance review’?”
“Private performance review?” Matt’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Careful what you wish for. My reviews can be quite… thorough.”
“Oh?” I traced a finger down his chest, following a water droplet’s path. “Is that your way of saying I need more practice?Because I thought I just gave a pretty stellar demonstration of my skills.”
“Fishing for compliments now?” He caught my wandering hand, bringing it to his lips. “What happened to that modesty you claim to have?”
“Must have left it in my other pants. You know, the ones currently decorating your bedroom floor.” I pressed a kiss to his jaw, grinning against his skin. “Besides, a little praise never hurt anyone’s performance evaluation.”
“GUYS!” Ryan’s voice cracked through our bubble again, this time accompanied by what sounded like him banging his head against the door. “If you don’t emerge in the next five minutes, I’m calling Eddie to break down this door. And trust me, nobody wants to see that.”
Matt groaned, resting his forehead against mine. “We should probably…”
“Get out and get ready for the gala?” I finished for him, sighing dramatically. “Fine. But just so you know, this performance review isn’t over.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He reached behind me to turn off the shower, the water tapering to a stop. “Though maybe next time we should schedule it when my brother isn’t playing timekeeper.”
“Next time?” I arched an eyebrow. “Mr. Caine, are you already planning our next meeting?”
“Always,” he murmured, stealing one last kiss before stepping back. “Now come on, before Ryan actually does call Eddie. That’s one security breach I’d rather avoid explaining.”
If anyone had told me a year ago that I’d be walking into the Bellagio’s grand ballroom on the arm of Vegas’ most eligible bachelor, I would have laughed in their face. Yet here I was, tugging self-consciously at my perfectly tailored Armani tuxedo while trying not to think about how Matt’s hands had been all over me in the shower barely an hour ago.
Damn Ryan and his impeccable timing.
“Stop fidgeting,” Matt murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “You look stunning.”
He would know. He’d spent a good twenty minutes showing me exactly how much he appreciated the way I looked before Ryan had burst into the penthouse suite, already dressed in his own tuxedo and declaring we were going to be fashionably late, not absent.
The Bellagio’s ballroom took my breath away. Crystal chandeliers dripped from coffered ceilings like frozen rain, their light catching on the champagne flutes and jewelry below. The string quartet played something that sounded expensive, their music floating over the steady hum of power and privilege. Everything gleamed—the marble floors, the gilt mirrors, the perfectly polished smiles of Vegas’ elite.
“Isn’t this better than moping around alone in the penthouse?” Ryan appeared at my elbow, looking unfairly gorgeous in his midnight-blue tux. He handed me a flute of what turned out to be sparkling cider. “Some of us aren’t legal yet,” he explained with a wink.
Matt’s arm tightened around my waist. “Try to behave,” he warned his brother before a silver-haired man in an impeccable suit approached. “Richard, good to see you.”
“And that’s our cue.” Ryan grinned, pulling me aside as Matt slipped into business mode. “Come on, let the grand tour begin.”
We drifted through the crowd, Ryan snagging hors d’oeuvres from passing servers while providing what he called “the realVegas gossip network.” The food was as fancy as everything else—tiny works of art that probably had French names I couldn’t pronounce.
“See the couple by the ice sculpture?” Ryan popped something that looked like a jeweled cloud into his mouth. “Timothy Chen and wife number four. He’s worth about three billion in tech money. She used to be his kid’s nanny. The diamonds she’s wearing could probably fund a small country.”
I watched Mrs. Chen adjust her necklace for the fifth time in as many minutes. “Subtle.”
“Right?” Ryan steered us toward a display of elaborate desserts. “And over there, the woman in emerald? That’s Catherine Morrison. Old money, owns half of downtown, absolutely terrifying at charity auctions. Last month she got into a bidding war over a painting with—” He broke off, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
I followed his gaze to where a tall man with striking green eyes had just entered the ballroom. He moved like he owned the place, which, given the whispers that followed his arrival, he probably could if he wanted to.
“Xavier Kingsley,” Ryan supplied, gleefully accepting another pass of champagne-free bubbly from a server. “Tech genius, environmental crusader, and Matt’s biggest rival in the sustainable energy sector.”
I studied the newcomer with growing interest. He was undeniably handsome, with the kind of confidence that probably came with revolutionizing an industry before hitting thirty. “What’s the story there?”
“Oh, where to start?” Ryan led us to a quieter corner near a towering flower arrangement. “Xavier’s been trying to either buy into or take over Matt’s new tech venture for months. Matt would rather…” He paused, considering. “Well, let’s just say Matt’s not interested.”
“Why not?” I watched Xavier work the room, noting how people gravitated toward him like moths to an extremely wealthy flame.
