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Like the rest of the house, the den was spacious and uncluttered. There were a few plush leather sofas arranged around a glass-top coffee table. There was a large bar, fully stocked, adjacent to a fireplace that dominated the room and bathed it in amber flickering light from the flames.

Cold stood by the fireplace, dressed to kill in a dark gray three-piece pinstripe suit. His cufflinks glittered with the sparkle of diamonds, and he was wearing white spats over his shoes. He looked every bit the gangster king as Jimmy had ever seen him.

Jimmy wanted to drop to his knees at the very sight of him.

Cold turned his head when he and Rowena entered, and he had the strangest look on his face when he saw Jimmy. He was lost and found all in the space of a few seconds, his usual smirk sliding into place. Tilting his head, he purred approvingly, “Why, Mr. Poe. You clean up well.”

“I do good work,” Rowena said proudly, heading right to the bar to make drinks.

Jimmy couldn’t stop the dopey smile that tumbled onto his face, and he beamed at Cold. “Wow. Me? Thanks, but I mean, look at you! You look incredibly fuckin’ sexy.”

Cold’s cheeks turned pink.

The mob boss of Strassen Springs was blushing.

“Come here,” Cold commanded softly, beckoning Jimmy over with a finger.

Jimmy kept grinning, tipsy enough to be brave and lean close as he approached, loudly whispering in Cold’s ear, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Cold’s hand snapped up to the back of Jimmy’s neck before he could get too close, but he was smiling.

With a gasp, Jimmy leaned into Cold’s hand. He could feel Cold’s thumb lightly brushing over the little hairs on the back of his neck, and he shivered pleasurably.

Cold’s eyes hungrily flicked over Jimmy’s body. “Duly noted.”

Jimmy wobbled a little, but he resisted the urge to hold on to Cold for support.

“How much booze did my sister pump into you?” Cold asked with a chuckle, taking in Jimmy’s flushed face and glassy eyes.

“Just the right amount!” Rowena cackled.

“We had a really, really nice day, and we maybe had a lot to drink, but I’m super okay,” Jimmy promised. “Thank you. Seriously. For everything.”

He adored how warmly Cold was looking at him, and Jimmy was consumed by the desire to peel that suit right off, get on top of him, and oh, mmph. Shit. Not now. Focus. He had to focus.

Talk.

He needed to talk.

Augustus.

Jimmy pulled himself out of his lustful daze, licking his lips as he asked, “Could we maybe… talk? Somewhere private?”

“So eager, are we?” Cold snorted, apparently misreading his request as he watched Jimmy’s tongue. “Later. Right now, you’re to be seen, not heard. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Jimmy replied quietly.

Rowena, who was cutting up lemons, interrupted them as she asked, “Hey! Where the hell is everyone? Or are they all late too?”

“Believe it or not, dear sister, you’re the only ones here,” Cold drawled, his hand still resting on Jimmy’s neck. He nodded toward the nearest sofa, wordlessly urging Jimmy to go sit down.

Jimmy mourned the loss of contact, but he obeyed, taking a seat on the couch nearest Cold.

There was a loud commotion from somewhere off in the mansion, and Cold tilted his head as Rowena brought him a drink. “Mm, but not anymore.”

Jules came barging in, no jacket, no tie, and his shirt was distinctly singed across the front. Grinning, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Jimmy lounging on the sofa. He burst into a hearty laugh. “Hey! Twig! Comin’ on up in the world.”

Jimmy waved awkwardly, remembering Cold’s command about staying quiet.