Aspen crossed to the mirrored wall, staring at his reflection.
Ocean let out a low whistle. “Aspen, you look like a billionaire.”
Aspen flushed. “I really don’t.”
“You do,” Ocean insisted. “And it’s hot.”
Vale unzipped his own garment bag. The suit inside was midnight-black with a subtle herringbone pattern that only revealed itself when he shifted the fabric. He touched the lapel with a strange familiarity.
“You had them match ours to yours,” Vale said quietly.
Titus straightened his cuffs. “We’re going into Aurelia’s executive level. Hale will be expecting a certain image from me when we meet by chance.”
Ocean leaned toward Sage. “Translation: Titus is about to walk in there looking like the goddamn heir to Gotham, and Hale’s gonna cry.”
“He might,” Sage admitted.
Titus ignored them and slipped into his tux jacket. Everything settled into place with the weight of inevitability. He didn’t just look like he belonged. He looked like he owned the building.
“Won’t people think it’s odd you’re showing up all of a sudden?” Sage asked.
“No. I’ve been at Aurelia every night this week.”
“You didn’t have bodyguards, though,” Syx pointed out.
“No, but my cover for that is my father insisted,” Titus said with a tight smile.
Vale’s eyes lingered on him. “So,” he said, “aren’t we overdressed for bodyguards?”
Titus gave a half laugh. “No. Not for Harrington bodyguards. Hale would expect me to dress you to the nines.”
Ocean pouted. “I want to be a bodyguard.”
Titus shook his head. “Two is appropriate. Three is suspicious.”
Ocean muttered, “Only Titus could say that sentence with a straight face.”
“Wealth is a language,” Titus said. “Tonight, we’re speaking it.”
Aspen snorted. “Yeah, well, I’m fluent now. My suit cost more than my student loans.”
“You have a student loan?” Sage cocked his head.
“Not anymore. YA paid it off,” Aspen admitted.
“Don’t spill anything on your suits,” Titus warned. “They’ll charge you double.”
“Not comforting,” Ocean piped up.
Titus looked at the gathered YA crew. Powerful, sleek, dangerously beautiful in each tailored suit—they weren’t just prepared for Manhattan’s elite. They enhanced it. A rare flicker of approval moved through him; they could walk into that world tonight and look like they’d been born to it.
“Positions tonight are simple,” Titus said. “You’re young executives. You’re there to have a good time. Act like it. It’s okay to have a few drinks, but don’t get drunk. Sage, I’ll connect with you when the timing is right.”
Sage nodded once. “No hacking, no interference. Just acting casual and rich. Got it.”
His phone buzzed—just a calendar alert.
Not Viper.
