Page 69 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

“Transport,” he said, a little thrown by the pivot. “Fleet maintenance, routing contracts, customs coordination, secure cargo. The Virelli business moves what most companies can’t be trusted to touch.”

“That’s huge,” Quinn said, and somehow she made it sound genuine rather than flattering. “I worked in restaurants through school, and if one delivery was late, the whole night went sideways. I can’t imagine managing that at scale.”

Marco straightened. “Well, it takes a steady hand.”

“I bet.” She nudged Max with her knee and murmured something, a command in a language I didn’t recognize.

Max took two compact steps forward, then sat directly in front of Marco and raised one paw. The effect was immediate. Whatever point Marco had been preparing to make dissolved under the pressure of a dignified dog in formalwear offering a handshake.

“Well, look at you,” Marco said, laughing. He took Max’s paw. “Aren’t you a gentleman?”

Quinn turned to me and pointed across the ballroom. “Oh, there she is.”

I looked. There was no one I recognized in the direction she indicated.

“My auntie,” she added.

I looked back at her. She widened her eyes very slightly. Not enough for Marco to notice. Enough for me.

“Your auntie,” I repeated.

“Yes. She’ll be furious if I don’t introduce you.” She smiled at Marco. “It was so nice meeting you. I’m going to steal him before she starts waving. She’s a menace when ignored.”

Marco was still half-focused on Max. “Of course, of course. Rafe, we’ll talk later.”

“I expect we will,” I said.

Quinn touched my sleeve, and then we were moving.

She guided us away from Marco at a measured pace that didn’t make it seem like a retreat. Max fell into step beside her, his tail level, and his tie still immaculate.

Once we reached the far side of a large floral arrangement, I looked down at her. “Your auntie?”

Quinn kept walking. “Every crowded room has an auntie if you believe in yourself.”

“That is not how relatives work.”

“No, but it does allow for a graceful exit.”

Despite the sourness still lodged beneath my ribs, a huff of amusement escaped me. “You extracted me.”

“Well, things were turning sour.”

I stopped near the edge of the silent auction gallery, where the noise of the ballroom softened behind us. “Thank you. You’re very well attuned.”

Her expression shifted. The humor remained, but something more careful moved beneath it. “You’re welcome.”

I looked back across the room. Marco had joined another cluster of guests and was gesturing as he spoke, restored to his preferred size by a new audience.

“I could’ve handled him,” I said.

“I know.”

That wasn’t the answer I expected.

Quinn glanced up at me. “You didn’t look like you couldn’t handle him. You looked like you were tired of having to.”

The accuracy of it struck cleanly enough that I had to look away.