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“Your boyfriend makes us a lot of money,” Hawk says as his gray, greedy eyes take me in. “We’re very happy with him.”

“That makes two of us,” I say, taking another pretend sip of champagne. Hawk’s in a dark suit, light blue button-down, and maroon tie with a well-trimmed beard. I tilt my champagne at him. “Do you always dress this sharp or is this just what you look like as Hans Gruber?”

Hawk looks impressed as his eyes move all the way down from my face to my legs. “You got it in one.”

“Ding, ding, ding!” I say, covering another fake laugh with my hand. “Ooh, maybe I am a bell!”

Hawk drags his gaze away from my body and winks.

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but would you mind showing me where you got that drink?” another voice cuts in. I don’t need to look to know it’s Nathan. “My craving for bubbles just hit hard.” He flashes the fakest smile I’ve ever seen at Hawk.

Nathan angles his body in front of mine ever so slightly in a blink-and-you-might-miss-it kind of way, and I’m unsettled to find how relieved I am that he’s here.

“Of course! Excuse me, Mr. Gruber,” I say, giving one last smile before turning and letting it fall right off my face.

I shiver as Nathan steps behind me, the heat from his body immediately—and surprisingly—comforting.

“You don’t need to rescue me,” I say just loud enough for him to hear as we wind our way to the bar.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Nathan murmurs.

“Since when does another man looking at me bother you?”

He grunts. “It doesn’t, but we need him focused on the exchange, not your legs.”

“I’m not the one who chose the fishnets.”

“Look, if you need something or want an out or, just, I don’t know, want to check in with each other to make sure we’re okay, give me a nonverbal cue, okay?”

“Like in The Sting?” I don’t let him see my excitement. “You can’t dress me like this and then expect us to be secret signal buddies.”

“We’re not—Okay, fine,” he says. “No secret signal.”

“Wait! Thinking, thinking,” I say. “I got it. We brush our chins with our thumbs.”

Nathan’s gaze snags on my lips before he drags it down to my chin, which I subtly brush my thumb over.

A smile plays at his mouth. “Is this because of my dimple?”

“You really should be putting it to better use.” I lift a glass of champagne off the bar and offer it to him, plastering my smile back on. “Here you go, Secret Signal Buddy!”

We make our way back to our tables separately, but I notice Nathan glancing my way every few seconds from where he sits. It’s like he wasn’t at all trained in the art of subtlety.

Hawk waits by the window with a wrapped present sitting on the ledge. I spot Lewis, who’s not hard to miss, at the dessert table taking photos with people in his costume. There’s even a line!

It’s supposed to be a simple swap: Lewis gives Hawk the box stuffed with money, and Hawk gives Lewis the box filled with six kilos of cocaine. But the swap can’t happen if Lewis is held up meeting and greeting.

Nathan’s ready for the exchange. He’s angled his body toward Hawk for the team to record on their end with a miniature camera attached to his lapel.

But then a disheveled-looking Scrooge taps a fork against his glass in preparation for a toast, and people turn to listen. If this exchange doesn’t happen tonight, we’ll lose our chance. Hawk leaves town tomorrow morning.

Those two presents need to be exchanged. Right now.

“Okay, Lambros, stay where you are. We’ve got eyes on Hawk and the presents,” Bedford says into our earpieces. “Lewis, get into position.”

I can tell Hawk’s getting antsy—and irritated—by the way he shifts from foot to foot and looks over his shoulder.

Across the room, Lewis tries to use his giant furry arms to create a path for himself, but that just makes everyone take matters into their own hands and sidle up next to him for selfies before going back to their seats.