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He’d been barking orders and carrying on when I’d slipped in a few minutes before the doors opened. His final instruction before guests were welcomed was that any time we weren’t serving food, we needed to be carrying a tray. I wasn’t working here, but I didn’t want to blow my cover either.
“Watch where you’re walking,” he hissed, his face turning scarlet. A sneer curled his upper lip, and he flicked his cold gaze to my hands before looking around the room. “Why is your tray over there? Pick it up. Carry it at all times. We do not leave trays with empty glasses lying around in the Casino de Monte-Carlo.”
If I did as I was instructed, I’d have another full tray of glasses in hand before I could back out of the room. But my first priority now had to be getting the hell out of Dodge.
If Moragreiga realized he wasn’t wearing his own glasses, we ran the risk of being found out. If he looked closely enough at them, he’d realize they were slightly heavier than his too. Knowing that his bank access came from a combination of his username and retinal scan, he would lock down his access, and any hope of getting into the bank would be crushed. That meant us sneaking out and Zali hacking in and getting the information she needed before Moragreiga’s night was over.
We didn’t want any attention drawn to any of us. Our Aussie accents stood out like a sore thumb among the people here, and Zali and Tristan had already been doing the rounds. How likely was it that there was a security guard and a waiter who also hailed from somewhere as far off as Aus?
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Ezra crossed my line of sight, gesturing to the doors with his chin. I rolled my eyes. How stupid did he think I was? Flynn’s confirmation that we had the scan was our cue to get out. But I couldn’t just walk away.
Could I?
What was the worst that could happen? The manager didn’t want to draw attention to any of us. He wouldn’t exactly shout across the room to stop me.
“Act drunk,” Ezra demanded urgently in my earpiece. “I’ll get you out.”
I gave a small shake of my head, breathing out a “Nah-uh,” against my throat mic, hoping that it was sensitive enough to pick up my whispered words. Instead, I stepped away, walking in the opposite direction to the tray. Chin up, I strode past the manager, ignoring his demand.
But as I passed, he shot his arm out, connecting with my chest.
I hesitated, irritation thrumming through my veins. I didn’t want to get pissed off at him, but he was making it hard.
“Now,” he hissed.
Fuck. “Duuude,” I drawled, putting on the worst American accent I could manage. I wrapped my arm around his head until his face was pressed into my pit and added, “Chill, man. Relax.” I staggered, making him stumble, and dragged him toward the dance floor. Unless he stopped me, we’d both literally be in the spotlight real quick. “Let’s dance.”
“Stop it,” he growled, a hint of panic in his voice.
I couldn’t help my smirk. Time to turn it up a notch.
We had the attention of a couple in their sixties who were looking at me with pursed lips as I took a step. “Hey, hot mama.” I moved my hand like a cat’s claw and added, “Rawr. Can I be your meal tonight, cougar?”
That was enough for the manager to stop pussyfooting around. He broke free of my grip and glared daggers at me before turning his attention on the couple. “Monsieur, madame, I apologize for this man’s behaviour. We will be escorting him out immediately.”
“Duuude, no need to hate. I was just lookin’ for some lovin’.”
“Get in the break room,” my pretend boss ordered through gritted teeth. He gripped my elbow, squeezing hard, and tried to yank me back behind the stage.
I pitched my balance sideways, spinning as he pulled me. This was either going to get me kicked out or arrested. I hoped it was the former—I didn’t feel like spending another night in an interview room, or worse, the lockup.
“Weee,” I cried out, faking a delighted laugh. I spotted a glass of champagne with a lone sip left in it sitting on the stage. I lunged for it, toasting the woman. “See you in my bed tonight, hot mama.”
“Sir, you’ll need to come with me,” Ezra insisted, his tone brooking no argument. He grasped my arms, holding me in place as he met my gaze and gave me the barest dip of his head. But I understood.I’ve got you. Trust me. Let me lead.His stare was piercing, waiting for my acknowledgement and agreement. I couldn’t look away.
My heart slammed against my chest, beating rapidly and I sucked in a breath. It had to be the adrenaline coursing through my veins, but my cock twitched, thickening as it hardened. Shaking off the manager’s hand, I stepped closer to Ezra, putting my trust in him.
He licked his lips, and I followed the path his tongue took. My cock hardened to the point of pain, and a shiver ran through me. What would it be like to press my dick between those lips—fuck!
Stop. Jesus fucking Christ. Why?
I exhaled slowly, lifting my gaze back up to meet his. Desire, hot and thick like lava, flared in his eyes, his lips opening on a sharp inhale as he saw something in me that I definitely wasn’t ready to admit. I tried to get both my mind and body back under control, but it wasn’t working. Ezra filled my senses, short-circuiting my brain and overruling my natural fight-or-flight instinct with his sexed-up looks.
Ezra adjusted his grip, his thumbs beginning a slow massage inside my elbows. It was as if he had a direct line to my cock. It shouldn’t happen like that. I shouldn’t get harder. I shouldn’t imagine him naked and on his knees for me or my shaft sliding into his tight little hole.
I didn’t want it.
