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They swarm him, posing in a circle around Knox while he stands completely rigid, giving me a great murderous glare.

“Beautiful!” I say, and it takes everything in me not to drop the phone and laugh.

“I don’t know, Cil…” Leo steps up beside me. “I’m beginning to think there is no way this man will ever quit.”

“Not unless we press harder.” I smile, snapping another photo.

“What exactly do you have in mind?”

“How fast can you arrange a party at my house later tonight?”

“How many people?”

I look from Leo to Knox. The women are now going full Charlie’s Angels pose around him, and he looks like he’s praying for the sweet release of death.

“Invite as many as humanly possible, Leo.”

“Are you sure that won’t be too much?”

“For a party that’s going to be in three hours? There’s no way it can be too much.”

— ¤ —

“Shit… this is too much,” I gasp in horror, and Leo laughs.

“You think?”

A DJ is spinning from a booth by the pool, choreographed dancers are along the stone walls, waiters are serving champagne, and the crowd of people is so dense it looks like a mini-rave.

“Leo,” I say, catching his arm. “How the hell did you manage to get this many people here so fast?”

“Don’t blame me. It’s your fault for taking almost a year to throw another party. Word got out that you were having a party, and well, people were hungry.”

“Clearly…”

That’s when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and a cold shiver travels down my spine, which can only mean one thing: Knox is right behind me, and he is fucking furious.

I turn around, and yep, there he is…

Though I’m not sure “angry” even begins to describe this level of intensity.

Molten fury?

Blind rage?

Or maybe… wrath?

Knox glares at the crowd, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw locked, and I almost want to laugh at how ridiculously out of place he is. It’s as if someone dropped one of those long machetes into a playground full of glitter and rainbows.

“We’re leaving,” Knox orders, holding my arm. “Right now.”

“Excuse me?” I shake him off. “We are not.”

“This number of people is a liability, Cillian. None of these civilians are vetted,” he growls, moving closer, as if he were shielding me from some threat. “We are shutting this down and moving you back inside.”

“I don't think so, big guy. This is my house, my rules, and I say the party stays.”

“Cillian, I’m not playing games.”