"Jesus," I breathe.
She blinks up. All innocence and sin. "What?"
"You do that on purpose."
Her fingers flex right where she knows I'll feel it. "Maybe I enjoy what it does."
Kyle clears his throat while pretending he's fascinated by fencing staples. Rider looks down at his post, studiously respectful, but I catch the faintest pull at his mouth.
I hook two fingers under her chin. "We're going inside."
"Because you have a meeting."
"Because if you keep touching me that way, I'm going to forget we're in public."
I kiss her. Quick. She tastes of coffee, mint, and the heat that's lived between us since Chicago, sharper now that the words are out.
For Kyle's sake, I point at the pen. "Build it. Tight corners."
He nods fast. "Yes, sir."
Rider gives me a silent acknowledgment that carries both respect and warning.
Sloane's hand stays in my pocket as we head in, and I let myself have it. Let myself be the man who walks into his own clubhouse with his wife touching him as though she belongs there.
Inside, voices overlap, chairs scrape, and someone laughs in the kitchen loud enough to carry through the walls.
The room has shifted since the goat chaos. Malachi's cleared the table and spread maps and folders across it, pinning down a beast with paper. The laughter has thinned into focus.
Victor is already at the table, Olivia beside him, both settled in since arriving earlier this morning. His gaze sweeps the room once, cataloging, locked on Malachi and waiting.
Arden moves from his spot against the wall and crosses to Frankie. "How's the stray?" he asks quietly.
Ruby lifts her head. "What stray?"
Frankie doesn't look away from Arden. "Difficult. Adjusting."
His gaze holds hers a beat longer than casual. "Eating?"
Her jaw flexes once, releases. "When he feels like it."
Ruby leans in, delighted. "Okay, hold on. Since when do either of you take in strays? And why does this one sound a person?"
Frankie's eyes cut to Ruby. Flat. Warning. "Ruby."
Ruby holds up both hands, grinning. "Fine. Mystery stray. I respect the secrecy."
Arden lets his gaze linger one beat longer, something old passing between them, and he turns toward the room as if none of that happened.
Malachi raps his knuckles once. The room tightens around the sound. "All right. We've got work."
Sloane slides into a seat. I take the chair beside her, knee touching her thigh. Her hand finds mine under the table, fingers threading through. I turn my palm up and hold her properly. She exhales, and her shoulders drop a full inch.
Malachi's voice is steady. "Victor's been digging into Donovan and his connections. Alice Brighton's still in the mix. The corruption didn't just happen. Someone built it. Maintained it."
Victor's gaze is hard. "Donovan's reach wasn't just money. It's pipelines. Protection. People on payroll. And Alice Brighton's family didn't invent the auctions, but they refined them."
Sloane's fingers tighten once. I know that grip. She's remembering.
