The mention of Kira’s hacker identity sends an involuntary current through me. “I can handle that part.”
Luca returns, slightly disheveled and wearing a satisfied smirk. “What did I miss?”
“Just Sal being a genius,” I reply.
“So, the usual.” Luca flops back into the booth. “Now, back to your sexy, terrifying fiancée?—”
“Luca,” I warn.
“What? I’m providing moral support.” He grins. “Besides, you should be thanking me. That woman looked at you like she wants to crack you open and rewrite your code. In a hot way.”
“There’s no ‘hot way’ to rewrite code,” Sal mutters.
“For us normal people, no,” Luca agrees. “But for these two hacker types? That’s basically foreplay.”
I roll my eyes, but the memory of Kira’s lips against mine sends unwelcome heat through my body. The kiss had been electric, unexpected—her initial resistance melting into something hungry and genuine before she’d pulled away in what looked like shock at her own response.
“She got to you,” Gio observes quietly, missing nothing as usual. “Interesting.”
Before I can deny it, a group of women approaches our table, clearly friends of the one Luca had been entertaining. They’re beautiful in the manufactured way of Manhattan nightlife—designer clothes, perfect makeup, calculated smiles.
One leans toward me, her perfume expensive but too strong. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Luca?”
“Ladies, meet my extremely boring friends,” Luca obliges with a theatrical flourish. “The mountain is Gio, the nervous one is Sal, and the pretty one scowling at you is Rafa.”
“I’ve seen you here before,” the woman says, sliding closer. “You never seem interested in company.”
“I’m not,” I confirm, maintaining a polite but firm distance.
“He’s engaged,” Luca stage-whispers, as if sharing a scandalous secret. “To the Russian ice princess. Very dramatic, very arranged-marriage, very old-world.”
The woman looks more intrigued rather than deterred. “Engaged isn’t married,” she points out, her hand landing on my arm.
I remove it gently but firmly. “Not interested.”
She retreats, clearly unused to rejection, rejoining her friends with a huff.
“You’re bad for business,” Luca complains once they’re gone. “Hot, single women are the lifeblood of any club.”
“I’m not single,” I point out, surprised by how natural the statement feels.
“Since when do you care about technicalities? You weren’t even interested in women like that before the engagement.”
He’s right, and that’s what unsettles me. I’ve never been one for casual encounters—too risky, too messy, too many variables to control. But my lack of interest tonight has nothing to do with risk assessment and everything to do with gray eyes that see too much.
Kira has embedded herself in my thoughts like a persistent line of code—impossible to ignore, difficult to extract. Since that kiss, I find myself replaying our every interaction, searching for patterns, for meaning, for... something I can’t name.
“I should go,” I say, draining my glass. “Early morning.”
“Midnight meeting with your future bride?” Luca teases.
I freeze, wondering if my plans are as transparent as I think they are.
Luca laughs at my expression. “Relax. Lucky guess.” His eyes narrow slightly. “But be careful, Rafa. Falling for a Petrov is like adopting a tiger. Beautiful to look at, deadly to touch.”
“I’m not falling for anyone,” I insist, standing to leave.
“Of course not,” Gio agrees, too diplomatically.
