“Including bathroom time,” I add dryly. “Hope you both have decent hygiene habits.”
Dominic laughs—a genuine sound I’ve rarely heard from him. “My cleaning service comes daily. And I’ve got multiple bathrooms. You’ll survive.”
“We should go do something,” Ryder suggests suddenly. “Something normal. Not Hunt-related, not sex-related. Just... something guys do.”
“Like what?” Dominic asks, skepticism evident.
“Basketball?” Ryder suggests. “I know a private court we can book.”
“I’m more of a tennis man myself,” Dominic says.
“Of course you are,” I reply with a smirk. “Country club sport.”
“And what’s your game, counselor?” Dominic challenges.
“Racquetball. Requires strategy, not just brute force.”
“Let’s just drink tonight,” Ryder decides. “Another night, we can all play pool. There’s a private club downtown with excellent tables.”
I find myself nodding. “I’m in.”
Dominic hesitates only briefly before agreeing. “Fair enough. To drinking.” He clinks his glass against mine and then Ryder’s.
Whatever comes next—with Cora, with Pike, with our unexpected arrangement—we’re facing it together.
26
RYDER
Dominic glances at his watch and drains the last of his bourbon. “I should head out. Early meeting tomorrow with the zoning commission.”
“The life of a property mogul never stops,” I quip, raising my glass in mock salute.
After he leaves, an interesting shift happens in the air between Liam and me. The dynamic changes when it’s the two of us—it always has, ever since that first night in the Red Room.
“Another round?” I ask, flagging down the bartender before he can answer.
Liam leans back in his chair, loosening his tie with one hand. “Why not? No court appearances tomorrow.”
I can’t help but watch the way his fingers work at the knot, imagining those same fingers elsewhere. “You know, counselor, you wear that suit like it’s armor.”
He raises an eyebrow. “That’s the point of a good suit.”
“And what are you protecting yourself from exactly?” I lean forward, elbows on the table.
“People who ask too many questions,” he counters, but there’s a hint of a smile.
Our drinks arrive, and I deliberately let my fingers brush against his as I slide his glass over. His eyes flick to mine, acknowledging the touch without commenting on it.
“You ever wonder how different things would be if we’d met under normal circumstances?” I ask.
“Define normal.”
“I don’t know. A bar. A casino. Somewhere without masks and revenge plots.”
Liam takes a measured sip. “We wouldn’t have met at all. Our worlds don’t exactly overlap.”
“They do now,” I point out.
