She hesitates, eyes flicking up to mine, searching.The air between us hums, alive with things we can’t say out loud.Then she exhales, a quiet surrender, and lets me lead.
For a few minutes, the world narrows to rhythm and heartbeat—the steady slide of velvet against my palm, the faint tremor in her shoulders as she forces herself to stay in character.I try to focus on the job, on the faces circling us like sharks, but all I can feel is her.
The way we move together, how her hand fits perfectly in mine, her fingers curled just enough to hold on.The curve of her waist under my other hand, the way she leans into each turn without hesitation.
The music shifts, slows.She follows without missing a beat, her body responding to mine like we're connected by something more than touch.
I should be counting exits, tracking Marquez's line of sight.Instead, I'm lost in how flawlessly she’s behaved tonight and how good it feels to have someone I trust at my side for a change.
"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight, Tiger?"
Her eyes flicker up to mine, and for just a second the mask slips—a real smile, small and surprised, touches the corner of her mouth before she catches it."It's the dress.It cost you a fortune."
I laugh."It'snotthe dress.It's how you’re wearing it."
The smile lingers this time, softer.Her fingers tighten against mine, and she holds my gaze a beat longer than she should, longer than is safe with all these eyes on us.
On cue, the song ends, and the danger slides back in.When I reluctantly lead her back to the table, Marquez is waiting, his predator’s calm firmly back in place.
“I need you and Adena to join me in Vegas when Ortega and I get done here,” he says, voice smooth, eyes sharp.“Our new friend wants to go to the tables.See the showgirls.Blow off some steam.”
Ortega smirks, swirling his drink.“You two should get hitched while you’re there.”
The words land like a grenade rolling across the table.My pulse jumps as I pick up my drink and try not to choke on it.
Valentina’s laugh slices through the noise, bright and brittle.“Now there’s an idea.”
Around us, conversation continues.The pianist plays.Glasses clink.People dance.But at our table, the world has stopped.
“What do you say, Jagger?”Marquez’s gaze locks on mine, unblinking.Measuring.“Make it official while we’re there?”
Adena’s fingers spasm in mine.Then her fingernails dig into my skin.Hard.
Valentina’s smile is razor-sharp.“Think of it this way, if she leaves you now, things get messy.Marriage keeps things nice and… tidy.”
She’s right.In her own warped way.In Marquez’s world, loyalty isn’t earned—it’s bound.Paperwork, vows, blood.Whatever it takes to keep the secrets from spilling.
I glance at Adena.She's staring at Marquez like he just put a gun on the table between us.
My throat’s dry.My heart’s slamming against my ribs so hard I’m surprised they can’t hear it.
I should laugh it off.Make a joke.Buy time.
But this isn’t just a test of loyalty.It’s a show of power—how much Marquez holds over his people.
My throat goes tight.This is the edge.Once I step over, there’s no walking it back.Every instinct screams to refuse.To call this what it is—a trap.
But rather than acknowledge any of that, I rationalize.It's cover.Deep cover.People do worse to maintain their position.This is just logistics.
The words come before I can stop them.“Sure,” I hear myself say.“Why not?”
Fifteen
Adena
This isn't happening.This can't be happening.
But it is.
