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“I’m out, Max. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, Loretta. Drive safe.”

“G’night, Mom,” Frank bellows.

Loretta walks away, probably wondering what she ever did to deserve working here.

“Is this just about your parents? I thought you’d finally come to terms with everything.”

My brows pinch as I give my friend a glare. “How does one come to terms with any of it, Frank?”

“No. You’re right. Sorry, man. I just meant you seemed to be handling everything better until recently. Did something happen?”

My head falls back against my chair, and I groan. “I’ve let someone get to me.”

He straightens in his chair. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve allowed myself to get too attracted to Cassidy,” I admit, the words feeling like a confession.

“Cassidy? The hot, pink-haired girl from the club?” Frank quirks a brow.

“Yeah. We’ve been working together. I discovered she’s taking classes on digital forensics,” I say, my voice tight.

“That seems oddly convenient,” Frank says, the shock of the information causing him to lower what’s left of his food.

“Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind. I’ve wondered if she’s a plant. Either from a case I’ve hacked, Luca and Matteo’s father, or the Feds.”

Frank knows I cross the line into morally gray on these pro bono cases. But there’s a massive difference between a lifelong friend standing by my side and a girl who has no idea what she’s walking into. I dump all of it on him. The questions about her past, the kid, the fear that she’s only fixated on me because of my financial status, or worse, that it’s all real and I’m going to ruin her.

Frank stares at me for a long beat, completely unfazed. “Look, I might not be the cyber genius you are, smart guy, but why don’t you get your answers like the rest of us average Joes?”

I look at him, completely baffled. “What are you talking about?”

“Ask her out,” Frank says, taking another massive bite of his pizza. “On a date. You remember how to do that, right?”

25

CASSIDY

I reach for a stack of stray glasses on the second-level balcony, my thoughts drifting to places they shouldn’t. The club is relatively quiet tonight. There are only four of us working, just Candice, Lala, Brier, and me. The dim atmosphere usually feels safe, but my nerves are raw, like a storm is rolling in. Maybe there hasn’t been enough happening to keep each of us busy, so my mind is wandering.

I’m straightening a velvet chair when a shadow falls over me. I spin to face the stranger, heart hammering against my ribs.

“Easy, Cass, it’s just me,” Max says, standing a few feet away. He catches me off guard. The usual energy his presence brings is different since our last interaction. But I’m admittedly a little more defensive around him now.

And when did he start calling me by a nickname?

Max looks at me intently, and for a second, starts to say something. His mouth opens, his posture shifting like he’s about to dive into a deep pool. Then, he blinks, and the shutters slam back down over his eyes. I can practically see him retreating behind his high-density firewall. This guy should have Katy Perry’s “Hot N Cold” playing in the background like a theme song.

“Are you... free to work some more?” he asks, his voice strained. “I have a few more threads to review on that phone record case.”

“I’m working tonight, Max.” I try to keep my voice steady despite how discouraged I felt, being discarded like a corrupted file. “Maybe in a day or two. I’ve got a big project I’m working on in my off hours.”

“Right. A day or two.” He hesitates, dragging his hand through his hair. “Okay, I’ll be back.” He gives a curt nod before turning on his heel and walking away.

I watch him go, secretly wishing he felt the same disappointment I’m experiencing at not spending time together. He’s probably only upset he couldn’t offload his phone data.

Max Wilde strikes me as a type-A overachiever. He likely has his next five years mapped out on a spreadsheet. Something tells me I wasn’t in the plan.