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“Or from being a habitual flirt in a tailored suit,” Gianni adds.

Becket Ryan raises his glass. “To impossible goals.”

Gianni signals for another round. “So, Max, I’ve got a member here who swears someone’s been siphoning internal data through their HVAC system.”

I blink. “That’s not a sentence that should exist.”

“I told him the same thing.” Gianni laughs. “But he’s convinced.”

“Tell him to stop watching conspiracy documentaries on YouTube and hire a better IT team.”

“Already did. He asked for you by name.”

Of course he did.

Becket leans back in his chair. “Speaking of upgrades, there’s a new cardiology nurse practitioner working at St. Luke’s. Absolute knockout. Smart. Easy conversationalist. Makes you want to schedule a fake heart attack.”

I glance at Dr. Hart, head of cardiology at the aforementioned hospital, expecting him to either throw in his agreement or press Becket for more details. Instead, he’s staring at his phone like he lost a bet, and his bookie is now on the way to collect.

“What’s up with him lately?” I murmur.

Devon follows my gaze. “Third time tonight he’s zoned out on our conversation. And Becket was talking his language.” He chuckles at the reference to Derek’s job. “That’s practically a medical anomaly.”

Gianni arches a brow. “Maybe he finally found the one.” G puts air quotes around, the one, cigar perched effortlessly between two fingers.

Hart doesn’t look up.

Becket smirks. “I give it two weeks before we’re buying him an engagement watch.”

My attention drifts back to the floor. Cassidy moves through the crowd with a tray clutched awkwardly in her hands, as if she’s afraid gravity might suddenly stop working. Her shoulders are still tense, her head slightly bowed, eyes constantly tracking the room.

This girl is clearly not like the others. There’s no giggling. No flirting. No tossing her flawless hair over her shoulder in effortless confidence. She walks like someone who expects to be bumped into. Like she’s bracing for impact.

What the hell is it about her that has me so fixated?

I’ve seen far more polished and composed beauties here over the years. Hell, I’ve slept with many. Mostly at The Rox, the private residence where some of the women Gianni employs reside. Or, as I refer to it, the house of ill repute. It’s basically a member’s only brothel. There is only one reason someone contacts Annalise to enjoy an evening at The Rox. Entirely private decadent self-indulgence.

I shift in my seat. Does she work there too? I always assumed that servers were only servers until they were otherwise promoted. But had she not worked out, and they gave her a chance working here? I haven’t been to The Rox in a while, but there’s no way I’d forget a woman like her.

I can practically feel Gianni narrow his eyes at my concerned expression before he follows my line of sight again, this time saying nothing. His silence feels louder than any warning. I’m crafting something to interject into our conversation to distract him from whatever he’s thinking when I catch it again. That flicker of pink at the edge of my vision.

She’s weaving through the crowd with a tray balanced on one hand, head down, shoulders tight. I tell myself not to look.

Then fail immediately.

That’s when I see him. A dark-haired man in a three-piece suit heading in her direction. My gaze hardens. In a sea of high rollers, he’s somehow too polished for this place. It’s as if he’s trying too hard. He steps into her path, leans toward her, and says something that appears to irritate her. She freezes for half a second. Just enough for him to close the remaining distance and slide his hand low against her back.

Too low.

My jaw ticks. The rest of my body going rigid before my brain catches up. I glance at Gianni. But he’s already headed in their direction. Of course he is. It’s uncanny. That man has a sixth sense regarding anything that transpires in this club. My eyes stay locked on them as Gianni crosses the room, the crowd parting around him. Anthony appears at his side out of nowhere, all broad shoulders and silent intimidation.

The man in the suit laughs at something. Still touching her.

Bad move.

I have to physically force myself to remain seated. Because there are rules here. Clear ones. And if Gianni and Anthony don’t remind him of that…

I will.