Mario gestured toward the dance floor, his smile wide and inviting. Brooke shook her head, but he pressed on, leaning closer.
“Mario moves fast,” Emmett yelled in my ear so that I could hear him over the music. “Though I’m sure that’s just friendly hospitality.”
I shot him a look that would have silenced a smarter man, but Emmett raised his infuriating Reynolds eyebrow.
My attention snapped back to the bar as Mario took Brooke’s hand, leading her toward the dance floor. She followed with visible reluctance, but something about him had convinced her. The crowd parted for them, like he was Moses parting the fucking Red Sea.
He spun her once and then pulled her close. My jaw locked tight enough to crack a molar.
“She’s a beautiful woman,” Emmett said, his voice cutting through the bass and my focus. “I’m surprised you two never hooked up.”
“I was her protection detail.” The lie came out without thinking. “That’s it.”
“And now you’re acting like a sniper on overwatch,” Emmett observed, pointing at them with the neck of his bottle.
My head snapped toward him. “What are you getting at?”
He held up a hand in mock surrender. “Nothing, nothing. I’m simply making conversation.” His eyes slid back to the dance floor. “Though you might want to be more subtle about the staring. I think even Mario noticed.”
Of course. The whole team had probably picked up on it. It was written all over my face, apparently.
I glanced back at the dance floor. Mario had guided Brooke deeper into the crowd. She was smiling up at him now, laughing at something he’d said.
Everyone on my team had found someone during an op. Zac and Ashley in Boston, Scarlett and Malcolm in Venice, Declan and Leigh in Rome, Drew and Jayce in Washington, Emmett and Jenn in Monaco, and finally Will and Brie in Mnemis.
“Look,” Emmett leaned in close enough that he didn’t have to yell so loud. “Life’s short. It’s not worth hiding whatever you two think you’re hiding.”
The realization washed over me. They knew. All of them. They’d probably discussed it when Brooke and I weren’t around. The team had been watching and waiting for the last holdout to fall.
I took a long drink, using the burn to center myself. “We need to keep things professional until the mission ends.”
“Professional,” Emmett echoed, not bothering to hide his amusement. “That’s why you’re gripping that glass like itpersonally offended you, while she’s out there dancing with our host?”
On the floor, Mario spun Brooke. Her laugh was genuine this time.
Something in my chest constricted.
What the hell were we waiting for? We’d lost years to silence and misunderstanding. Tomorrow, we’d be walking into potential chemical warfare. So why were we denying ourselves? To maintain some fiction of professionalism when everyone already knew?
Fuck me.
No more wasted time.
No more missed opportunities.
Not when those opportunities could end tomorrow.
I set my glass down harder than I should have. “Excuse me.”
“Going somewhere?” Emmett asked, though his smirk said he already knew the answer.
“To get what I want,” I replied, rising from our sofa.
I navigated my way between alcoves and tables, down two small sets of stairs, to the dance floor, where the crowd swallowed me. Bodies pressed in from all sides, the air thick with perfume, cologne, and sweat. I tracked Brooke through the shifting mass, moving with the focused intent I usually reserved for operations.
I was halfway there when a hand caught my arm. I turned, ready to brush it off, only to find Scarlett.
“Hey,” she said, leaning close enough to be heard over the music. Her face was flushed from dancing. “I need a favor.”
