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“I had my suspicions after I discovered the two of you hiding in my pantry.” Joanie smiled.

Marcus palmed the back of his neck. “Yeah, we uh— That was…”

“No explanation needed. Now go find her. She has something to tell you, but didn’t want to distract you during your big speech. Nice job, by the way.”

“Thanks.” What was she going to tell him? Marcus was fairly certain it was good news if Joanie’s warm smile was anything to go by. Lily was the best. Not only when she was in his bed, or hers, but every day at the office. She’d shown him in a million ways how much she cared—about him, about work. And she’d been looking out for him tonight. He thought he couldn’t love her more, but here he was⁠—

He blinked.

Love.

He gulped down his red wine in three burning swallows.

“You okay?” Clive asked when Marcus handed over the empty glass.

“Yeah, I just…” Marcus tugged at his bowtie, which was strangling him. He’d just realized he was in love with Lily. Like, love. L-O-V-E love.

Shit. He needed some air.

“I’ll be right back.” He tried to smile, but wasn’t certain he succeeded. He turned for the nearest exit and nearly bowled over Emmett Webster.

“Whoa. I come in peace.” Emmett held up his hands in front of him. “I overheard. You and Lily of the Valley, huh? And now you’re recommending her as a lead to London? You sure you want to risk your reputation on her?”

“Out of my way,” Marcus warned, his voice lethal. This guy was as thick as a post.

“Sure thing. I was just going to grab a drink. Do you want one? It’s on me.”

“Emmett.” That was Clive.

“I have this,” Marcus told his friend.

“Marcus—” Clive again.

“I fucking have this, Cameron.”

“What do you have, exactly, Black?” Emmett asked. “Besides a woman who will take credit for your work. Trust me on that. You want to throw your career away, be my guest.”

Beyond his shoulder, Marcus spotted Lily coming from the double doors that led outside. Her steps faltered as her eyes went from Marcus to Emmett.

“Get the fuck out of my way.” Marcus pushed past Emmett, his eyes on her. Once he reached her, he was going to pull her into his arms and kiss her for all she was worth. And then he’d come back here and deck this scumbag in the nose like he’d wanted to do all evening.

He had taken a single step toward her when he heard Emmett mutter, “She really is sleeping her way through the industry, isn’t she?”

Marcus paused, balled his fist, and turned around.

“We’re in the open, Black,” Emmett said, his hands held out defensively. “What are you going to do, punch me in front of your peers?”

Clive gave Marcus a nod. “If you don’t do it, I will.”

That was what he needed to hear. One minute, Marcus was thinking about hitting the jackass; the next, he was drawing his elbow back and letting his fist fly.

Blood sprayed from Emmett’s nose and dotted his white shirt. He covered his face with both hands while shouting and swearing. Then he stumbled backward—and fell into Reginald London.

They went down in a heap, Emmett on top of Reginald while his wife, Felicia, bent to help.

“Oh, shit.” That was Clive. “I’ve got him.”

Marcus felt Lily’s soft touch next—on his arm and then lifting his hand. “Are you okay? What happened?”