A wry laugh tumbles out of me. “Is this whole gig like an improv skit for you guys?”
Cash’s face falls with mock disappointment as he deals the next round. “You are exactly the type of employee he’s addressing. Not everything in life can be a joke, Tessa.”
“Yeah,” Jax deadpans, scooping up his cards before he continues. “You should see her in the shops. Tess really struggles with inappropriate comic relief.”
Mercy shoulders me, snatching her own hand before gesturing to Amy delivering our martinis. “Drink up and show them how funny you can be.”
Dry humor is as funny as I get, but a few drinks might bring out a slightly less antagonistic version of my personality. That’s all Mercy is fishing for. She commented earlier that she’d noticed I’d been tense. She thinks it’s about my sister’s engagement brunch coming up. She isn’t completely off base, but it has far more to do with where I’m sitting now. Then again, this is a warmer taste of family than my blood relatives ever bestow on me.
“Last one,” Jax says with a warning glance. “Unless you’re staying in Rena’s old room tonight.”
Jax gets fucked up, but never at the risk of another’s safety. All the Noires are careful about ensuring employees don’t drive under the influence, so I don’t mind his authoritative tone or the suggestion. And since the tattoo and piercing boutiques are his domain, he’s the Noire I report to. I’ve only stayed in the penthouse once, and it wasn’t because I was intoxicated. It was because I was babysitting Remy overnight.
“I’m good tonight.” I share that while studying my cards. “I have a ride.”
I don’t bother telling them it’s Maddox because the last thing I want is rumors circulating. And I can’t possibly refute speculation when I’m bound to him by events that can never be spoken about and I have no idea what the hell is going on with him or with us. Thankfully, I am notoriously tight-lipped regarding my personal affairs, so no one questions who’s giving me a ride.
“Indulge then.” Mercy clinks her glass with mine and tosses in a few Underground chips—earned with performance points rather than money so employees don’t lose their income or houses or something else equally as devastating—and flaunts her competitive streak. “After we take these losers down, of course.”
Cash chuckles, gripping his heart. “I’m wounded. We’re family.”
A couple who works with me in the tattoo and piercing boutiques passes by with conspiratorial grins, and one of them slyly drops an extra chip in front of me. Overall, the staff loves the Noires, but we still enjoy a good takedown story. They’d be thrilled to hear I won the pot. I jerk my chin up in appreciation as they stroll away, but like it tends to be in the Underground, we’re on to the next thing in a blink.
A cacophony of groans resounds, and we all look to the stage, waiting to see what we missed.
“It’s about the grits,” Brasi explains, as if that were a completely normal thing for a room full of people to be grumbling about.
“This defeatist attitude doesn’t belong here,” Maddox chastises, pointing his butterfly knife at the crowd, pinning them with his piercing eyes, and owning his teetering-on-the-edge party persona. “One way or another, we’ll get the grits.”
With that, he swaggers offstage, and I can’t keep myself from stealing glances at him while I play my cards. He makes his rounds, chatting with all the employees who hang on his every word. I hate that he’s so gorgeous and alluring while still feeling mysterious and also being a controlling prick. It’s a delicious and deadly combination. One I unfortunately seem to be chained to.
Jax cleans up with a straight flush, raking in his winnings with a lazy grin. It has me wondering if he and Cash are in this together and if his trouble stirring was part of the ruse.
I’ll have to investigate another time though because I want to get out of here before anyone picks up on Maddox and me leaving together.
“This was …enlightening, as always, but I’m out.” Hoisting my purse over my shoulder, I bend to give Mercy a hug before rising from my chair.
She side-eyes me in a way that suggests she knows something. “Your ride is here?”
“Yep.” I cast the subtlest leave-it-alone expression at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I don’t wait for anyone else to chime in. Their goodbyes and the heat of their scrutiny follow in my wake.
Heading toward a side exit for employees, I cut through one of the populated areas and pass a horde of guests walking on the wrong side of the hallway. Always on my freaking list. As soon asI veer around them, a hostess and a server from our restaurant L’ange Noire shake their heads at the group before rolling their eyes at me in commiseration. It might be an item on my list, but the entire staff gripes about that offense. It makes cruising through the resort challenging.
Finally away from the crowd, I slip into an empty corridor by the theater staging area, deciding I’ll wait outside for Maddox. But before I’m halfway to the door, footsteps echo behind me.
This week and my guard detail have me on edge, so I covertly rip my knife from my belt and spin.
Maddox’s face lights up at the sight of the blade. “That’s my girl.”
“Cut the shit, Drac.” Still clutching my weapon, I cross my arms beneath my chest, relishing the way his gaze latches to my cleavage more than I should. Because I’m pissed and I’m making a point. “Not only is that the last descriptor I’m interested in having, but no one isyour girlfor more than a night, and that type of night would fall into the never-gonna-happen category for us.”
He smirks, his glacial eyes crinkling as they skate over my curves, which has my stomach flip-flopping. “You been keeping tabs on my love life, Lockhart?”
“Certainly not. I doubt anyone could count that high.” Fuck, that sounds bitter. The alcohol in my system is muddling everything, so I walk backward toward the door, nonchalantly kicking my chin to the eye in the sky. “We can’t do this here. I’d really like to keep any regrettable association with you quiet. Can I indulge your delusional alphahole bullshit in the car?”
“Stop,” he demands, sauntering toward me, hooking an arm around my waist, and hauling me into a dimly lit backstage area.
