Page 56 of Stealing Blinds

“Show off?” As I parrot those words, everything that was just mentioned crashes into me. “The Noires and their employees—Cash is competing?”

“Yep.” Zara nods. “Maddox and Jax too.”

A peek at the Underground is tempting, and Cash competing is even more enticing. “Does it matter that I’m not an employee?”

Tessa’s doll-like face brightens as she tucks her silver hair behind her ear. “You want to play?”

“Asinine circus games? Hell yes.” I look at Remy, who’s bouncing in his own personal euphoria. “Rumor has it, I can fly.”

“Hmm.” Mercy side-eyes me, her grin bursting this time. “Someone might draw the conclusion that you’d like to face off against Cash.” She pauses for effect. “And crush him.”

“People like to speculate around here, huh?” I push off the bed and head to my suitcase to find something cute but comfortable to wear—yoga pants, a tank top, and a tie-front cardigan will do.

“No worries.” Zara laughs. “A face-off is exactly what we’ve been looking for. You’re hired.”

College wasn’t the let-loose experience for me that many people have. It was filled with rigorous training, so parties were a firm no. I’m starting to think that was an oversight because I am the champion of asinine circus games. Well, not quite, but I’m on my way.

So far, I have proven my expertise at the handstand showdown. The only one close to beating me in that was Jax. I think he may have forfeited because he wanted his joint, but I stood my ground and outlasted him nonetheless. The balance beam race was a breeze. Of course, that was when the rumors about Cash bringing in a ringer started. I announced that I wasn’t here for the prize—which is a day at the spa—explaining that my only motive was to prove I was a superior competitor to Cash Noire. I also said that if I won, I’d give it to the runner-up and even donate a second day to a random employee in attendance. That made me very popular.

By the time I conquered the game Don’t Drop the Balloon While Tumbling, I gained an entire fan base.

As I’m gulping down water to prepare for the final event, Cash swaggers toward me. It’s noisy. “Blurred Lines” is blaring from the sound system. People in the crowd are prattling and drinking. And the performers that have made it to this final round are warming up. So, when he erases all the space between us, I don’t make a big deal out of it. Or give too much credence to the swoop in my belly.

He grips my hip and brings his mouth to my ear, his scruff tickling my jaw. “I wasn’t planning on you competing tonight, Sly. I thought it would be fun for you to hang out with the girls.” His hand migrates to the small of my back. “I’m worried about your ankle, so let’s call it.”

I should probably step away, but it’s as though I’m frozen in his embrace. “I wrapped my ankle, and I’ve competed on injuries far worse than this.”

“For competitions that meant far more.” He glides his knuckle beneath my chin, tipping my head up, compassion swimming in his ocean eyes. “You’ve already proven yourself, and you have a lot on your plate.”

Logically, that makes sense. I can’t afford to have any hiccups in my upcoming jobs. And yet …

“Who are you to assign importance? Maybe I see this as the most vital event of my life.”

His forehead wrinkles. “Do you?”

“I’ve had a really good time.” The weight of that truth slams into my chest, so I expound on it. “More than … it’s nice not to be overwhelmed. For a minute at least.”

I’m rambling, less composed than I ever am. Maybe that would be warranted upstairs. The girls and I strolled through the resort on the way down here tonight, and it is admittedly intimidating. The sheer formidability of the clientele is enough to rattle anyone, but add to it the grand decor, Prohibition-inspired opulence, and secret passageways, and the entire picture is imposing.

That isn’t the case in the Underground. It’s purely the man before me. We’re in a massive room, filled with his employees, but this exchange feels intimate. My nerves are frazzled. If he helps me out of this bind, lets me get attached to his family, and keeps touching me and kissing me and talking to me so sweetly, it will wreck me. I’ve had casual flings or even one-night stands, but they were always with guys who only offered a surface-level attraction. Cash is going to woo me with the image of something deeper so he gets what he wants, but then his interest will wane, and I’ll be left broken. Again.

Not that he’d intend to hurt me. That much is clear.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time. You’ve ruled this whole night.” His chest rises and falls against mine as he smooths a wisp of my hair back, his blues rollicking all over my face. “Born to be a queen.” Then he kisses my temple with a sweet possessiveness that swipes the tabled idea of decimating our newfound friendship onto the floor. “Be careful, but go claim your prize.”

He winks as he walks away, his dimple glinting with arrogance, as if he’s proud of the internal war he’s inflicting. Maybe he was hoping to throw me off my game. All the more reason to win it all. Especially since nearly every damn female gaze in this place tracks him. And they’re salivating.

Cash’s sisters-in-law crowd around me, revving me up, like my very own entourage, but a new face appears with them.

“I’m Amy.” She shakes my hand. “Unlike the rest of the room, I decided to introduce myself rather than gossip from afar.” That’s an interesting approach—one I wasn’t expecting, though she is one of the only women here not drooling over Cash. “I’ve been excited to meet you. I’m La Lune Noire’s head stylist and personal shopper. Cash arranged for a whole new wardrobe for you.”

“A whole new wardrobe?” I repeat.

“The Noire men love to spoil their girls, so—”

“I’m not his girl,” I interrupt her again because I’m instantly lightheaded. “We’re just friends.”

“He said that too.” She laughs, and so do Mercy, Tessa, and Zara. “But,” she goes on, “he said it in a funny way, and … well, let’s just say, there’s a reason everyone is captivated by you tonight, and it’s not just your impressive skills at our stupid games.”