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Wrapped in the arms of a dark-haired, broad-shouldered guy who looks like he could bench-press a small car.

I’m on my feet before I realize I moved.

Gianni grabs my arm. “Relax, Max.”

“Who is he?”

“That’s Fire,” Gianni answers in a tone so low and smooth, it’s like he’s talking to a tiger about to pounce.

I blink. “Fire?”

“Holt Firestone. Cassidy’s brother.”

My lungs start working again.

Gianni belts out a laugh. “Damn, Max. I thought you had a thing for the girl. But you’re more invested than I anticipated.”

I mutter something that might be a denial. But it’s a waste of breath given I’ve blown my cover after this declaration.

What the hell? I don’t even know this girl.

Is this merely an obsession with the one woman I’ve been attracted to in years, knowing she’s off-limits? That’s got to be it. I’m not the usual rich rogue that frequents this place. I don’t throw my money around to get whatever I want. But I can’t deny this beauty has taken up space in my mind.

Especially when I’m alone in my bed. Or the shower…

He laughs. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s go upstairs and review what you’ve been able to find with Matteo before you start glaring holes into her family tree.”

The next afternoon, I’m back at the club. Which, given my behavior yesterday, I absolutely should not be. I worked late into the night in Gianni’s office before crashing at a hotel nearby. And now that I’ve returned to tackle the phone logs for this suspected pedophile, I’m questioning my sanity.

Why is this the place I focus best?

You’d think a luxury hotel suite would work just as well. But there’s no middle ground there. It’s either too quiet or too distracting, nothing in between. Here, it’s just enough background noise to keep my mind anchored.

I sense a flurry of activity and look up. Which is odd, given this area of the club is usually fairly calm during this part of the day. Cassidy is moving between tables, wiping down surfaces that appear to already be shiny. Is this really part of her work duties? Maybe she’s more like Yamila than I’ve noticed in the past.

She bends over a four-top, her hips rocking back and forth as she reaches across the table to scrub diligently. My brain shuts off. My body, unfortunately, does not.

Jesus Christ.

My dick grows hard in my pants at the sight of her perfect ass as it moves back and forth, back and forth. And now all I can think about is throwing her over my desk and pounding into her.

Fuck. Is she doing this on purpose?

She’s wearing a more conservative outfit today than the skimpy dresses the servers have had on lately. But that navy blue mini has ridden up high enough I can practically taste her. And those silver ankle boots she’s wearing only accentuate her long, lithe legs. Hell, I want to drop to my knees and run my tongue up the inside of her legs until⁠—

Shit. My dick is thumping like it has a heartbeat, it’s so hard. I drop my head into my hands. Get a grip. You’re a grown man. Not a teenager with a crush and no impulse control.

What on earth is happening to me?

I swear I need to get laid. That’s all this is. I’m so overdue for a night of reckless abandon, I’ve allowed myself to become fixated on this pink-haired nymph.

I’m deep into self-loathing when something appears in my peripheral vision. My eyes narrow in on it. A highball glass containing two fingers of scotch and a steaming cup of coffee.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of day you were having,” Cassidy says lightly.

I glance up.

She’s smiling down at me. Her blonde hair is down around her shoulders, the pink tips circling her breasts. That little navy mini dress is even hotter up close. Her legs seem to go on for days. I forget how to form sentences. My mouth is suddenly parched, so I reach for the scotch.