I blink hard, my brain trying to catch up with what my eyes are showing me. “At. A. Sex. Club.” I enunciate each word like I’m sounding them out for a toddler, because apparently that’s what this situation calls for.
Declan’s jaw tightens, like he’s bracing for a punch.
Luca, bless his idiot heart, pipes up with a shrug. “I’m a member and—”
I snap my glare to him so fast he nearly swallows his own tongue. “Not helping.”
Matteo, cheeks flushed and a stack of neon note cards clutched to his chest like they’re state secrets, blurts, “I don’t want anyone to know I’m studying for the exams.”
Tatum bites back a laugh, failing spectacularly. “Honestly? Kind of genius. If I had a math tutor in here, no one would ever interrupt.”
Eslin side-eyes her. “Girl, please. You can barely focus in a Starbucks. You would get nothing done here.”
“He’s embarrassed, Marlow. No one in his family has ever been to college and he didn’t want to say anything in case he fails.”
I drag my hands down my face, exhaling a long groan. “So, let me get this straight. I stormed into The Supper Club—” I jab a finger at Declan, then point at Matteo and Luca—“ready to murder somebody because myhusband’sphone was pinging here, only to findout you three degenerates have turned a luxury sex den into an SAT prep class?”
The word hangs there like a fire alarm I can’t silence.
Luca’s eyes go wide, his jaw practically unhinging. Matteo actually drops his note cards, the neon stack fanning across the carpet in slow motion.
“Husband?” they echo, voices overlapping in one horrified gasp.
The room tilts. My stomach lurches.
Oh. Shit.
I wasn’t supposed to say that. No one outside of my friends and Declan was supposed to know that.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. My mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, scrambling for some clever spin. “I—uh—I meant—”
But nothing comes.
Declan’s arms fold across his chest. He doesn’t say a word, which somehow makes it worse. He’s just standing there, watching me scramble.
“Oh my God,” Matteo whispers, eyes flicking between me and Declan. “You guys aremarried?”
My hands start flailing, trying to shove the words back into the air. “I mean—it’s—it’s not like that, okay? It’s—complicated.”
“Complicated?” Luca repeats, his grin spreading. “Complicated how, boss?”
My pulse slams against my throat. The walls feel too close, the sticky notes mocking me with words likeintegrityandequation. All I can think about is if this gets out, if the team hears, if the press hears.
I glance at Declan, silently begging him to step in, to rescue me from the mess I just spilled all over the carpet. But his mouth just curls, infuriatingly calm and I can tell he enjoys watching me sweat.
Fucking bastard.
Before I can dig the hole any deeper, Eslin slides in like the seasoned therapist she is, eyes darting between Luca and Declan.
“Luca?” she says smoothly, though her teeth are clenched like she’s holding back a scream. “You and Declan have a lot more in common than you might think.”
Luca’s brow furrows. So does Declans. Confusion written all over their faces.
“I don’t understand.” Luca says.
Eslin’s smile sharpens, still strained. “I can’t break privilege. But…think about that thing you told me a few weeks ago. And the thing I talked you out of doing because of a certain…incident? In a certain city ofsin?”
Luca’s mouth parts. His head tilts. You can practically see the gears grinding behind his eyes before the lightbulb clicks on. His gaze snaps to Declan, wide and scandalized.
