Page 112 of The Gaybor War

Benji snorts. "Of course you do."

I glance over at him, and promptly lose my train of thought.

His costume is… not respectful of personal boundaries.

Tight black faux leather pants, an open white shirt with gold trim, boots that absolutely know what they’re doing, and a red sash slung low on his hips that was designed specifically to ruin me.

"You are not dressed."

"I am artistically interpreted."

"That shirt is indecent."

He smirks. "Good."

I swallow past the tightness in my throat. "This is a party," I remind him.

"Yes. A themed one. About romance." He tilts his head. "You look like you’re guarding the treasure. I look like I am the treasure."

I hate how right he is.

He steps closer, adjusting the fall of my collar, fingers lingering at my throat. "Relax. You look good. Very good. Just… less scandalous."

"Someone has to represent dignity."

He grins. "That person is never me." Benji presses a kiss to my jaw and steps back. "We’re going to lose you in there."

"Absolutely not."

"Oh, honey." He pats my chest. "You’re about to become a fan favorite."

"That’s not comforting."

Benji links our fingers and tugs me toward the door. "Come on, Captain Sensible. Let’s go embarrass you."

And somehow, impossibly, I find myself smiling the whole way down.

The elevator doors open onto absolute madness.

Music thumps. Laughter spills down the hallway. Glitter—actual glitter—coats the carpet like festive shrapnel. Someone in a full mermaid tail is arguing with a cowboy about the ethics of tentacle romance.

I stop short. Benji beams.

"Welcome to my people."

Before I can respond, someone shrieks his name.

"BENJIIIIII!"

A woman in a sequined captain’s hat barrels toward us, dragging two friends in her wake. They’re all wearing variations of pirate attire, none of which would pass any workplace dress code known to man.

"OH MY GOD," Captain Hat gasps, clutching Benji’s hands. "Your covers literally ruined my sleep schedule."

"An honor," Benji says solemnly.

"I finished three books in one night because of you. Couldn’t stop drooling over those men!"

"I apologize to your circadian rhythm."