By nine that morning, I had managed to make coffee, answer three emails and stare at Roman’s number long enough to memorize it. I hadn’t called him, and I hadn’t called Cass either. I wasn’t completely pathetic, at least that was what I kept telling myself while checking my phone for the fifth time.

There was still no message from Cass.

The second time he came to my place, he hadn’t texted. I was on my couch with a glass of wine and Netflix when a knock sounded on the door. I assumed Ethan had lost his key and rushed over to open it. There stood the stranger from a few weeks ago. I opened my mouth to ask what he was doing outside my door, but his tongue in my mouth quickly stopped me. And the rest was history. To say I was a slut would be an understatement, which probably explained why I was thinking about him after he’d spent his recent disappearance doing an excellent job of reminding me that I wasn’t supposed to expect anything from him.

I picked up my phone again when it buzzed.

Cass.: You home?

I stared at the message.

Me: Yes.

The reply came before I could put the phone down.

Cass: Good.

I frowned.

That was it?

I typed, Why?

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Cass: Stay there.

I laughed under my breath.

Me: Are you giving me instructions now?

His response came a few seconds later.

Cass: Yes.

I shook my head and put the phone down.

He was unbelievable.

Five minutes later, someone knocked on my door.

I didn’t bother wondering who it was.

When I opened it, Cass was standing there with two paper bags in one hand and that irritatingly calm expression on his face.

I looked at the bags.

Then at him.

“You brought food?”

He walked past me. “Morning to you too, Babe.”

I closed the door behind him. “You could’ve said you were coming.”

“I did.”

“You said stay there.”

“Exactly.”

I followed him into the kitchen. “That’s not the same thing.”

He placed the bags on the counter and started taking things out. Breakfast. Actual breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, fruit and the coffee I liked from the little place two blocks away. I stared at the cup for a second. Did he know I liked it there? I’d never told him.

I stared at it. “What’s this?”

“Food.”

“I can see that.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

I looked at him. He gave me the smallest smile. There it was again. He was enjoying himself.

“Flowers would’ve been a nice touch.”

He blinked. “I’ve never seen you eat flowers.”

“You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.” He pulled out a chair with his foot. “Sit.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you planning to order me around all morning?”

“Probably.”

I sat anyway, mostly because the food smelled good and partly because arguing with him before breakfast seemed like unnecessary work. Cass took the seat across from me. I reached for the coffee.

He watched me take the first sip. “You didn’t sleep much.”

I lowered the cup. “How would you know?”

His expression didn’t change. “You look tired.”

I stared at him. That answer should’ve been enough, but something about the way he’d said it made me wonder whether he’d been paying more attention to me than he usually admitted.

I picked up a piece of toast. “So, are you going to tell me what happened yesterday?”

“No.”

I nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

“Not yet.”

I put the toast down. “Did the shooting have anything to do with you? Were they targeting you through me?”

“Not really.”

“Cass.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Sophia.”

I hated when he did that. “What?”

“Eat.”

I stared at him for a moment before taking another bite. Didn’t ask again. Not yet. There were bigger questions sitting between us, including the fact that he could very well be connected to what happened at my office, and I still didn’t know his last name

I could feel his eyes on me while I picked at the edge of my toast, which made it harder to pretend I wasn’t wondering what the hell was going through his head.

“You really are bossy.”

“You’ve known that for a while.”

“Not outside the bedroom.”

His mouth curved.

“Do you always avoid questions?”

“When I don’t want to answer them.”

“That’s convenient.”

“It is.”

I leaned back. “You know what I find interesting?”

“What?”

“I’ve been sleeping with you for months and I still don’t know your last name.”

He looked at me for a moment. Then he smiled. “You’ve never asked.”

“I shouldn’t have to.”

“Why not?”

“Because normal people introduce themselves.”

“We’re not exactly normal.”

I laughed. “That’s the first thing you’ve said today that I agree with.”

His eyes stayed on me. “I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Annoyed.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You enjoy making me angry?”

“Sometimes.”

“That’s a little disturbing.”

“You keep letting me come back. Easily too.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. He smiled wider. I hated that he always knew when he’d won an argument. I reached for my coffee instead.

He watched me for another second before asking, “Are you going to the office?”

“No.”

“Good.”

I frowned. “Why do you care?”

His expression changed slightly. “Because I told you not to.”

I put my cup down. “Cass.”

He looked at me.

“Yesterday, men with guns came into my office. One of them ended up dead. You showed up carrying a gun like you’ve been doing this your entire life, and now Roman is giving me his number because apparently I somehow wandered into something I know absolutely nothing about.”

I leaned forward.

“And you expect me to sit here eating breakfast while you tell me nothing?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

His fingers tapped once against the table before going still.

“I don’t want you involved.”

“I didn’t exactly volunteer.”

“I know.”

“Then why won’t you tell me what this is?”

His eyes met mine. “Because knowing makes you a target.”

I stared at him. “So I’m already a target?”

He didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

My stomach tightened. “Because of you?”

His jaw shifted. “No.”

“That’s comforting.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t get to disappear for seventeen days, walk into my office with a gun, tell me not to go to work and then sit in my kitchen acting like I’m supposed to be fine with all of this.”

“I never asked you to be fine with it.”

“Then what are you asking?”

He looked at me for a long moment. “Trust me.”

I almost laughed. “You won’t even tell me your last name.”

His mouth twitched. “Fair point.”

“Thank you.”

He stood.

I watched him walk around the table. “What are you doing?”

He stopped beside my chair. “Come here.”

“I am here.”

His hand settled on the back of my chair. “Closer.”

I looked up at him. “You really think you can distract me every time I ask a difficult question?”

“No.” His gaze dropped to my mouth. “I know I can.”

I hated that he was right.

He leaned down and kissed me. I should’ve pushed him away. I should’ve reminded him that I was still angry and that he hadn’t answered anything. Instead, my fingers caught the front of his shirt. His hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer until I was barely aware of the chair beneath me. He kissed me like it was his daily bread.

My fingers tightened in his shirt before I even realized I was holding on.

Cass had never been the kind of man who kissed me like he was trying to prove something. Usually, he was confident and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. This was different. His hand tightened against my waist, and when I turned my face slightly, he followed me without hesitation.

When he finally pulled back, I was still holding his shirt.

His eyes dropped to my hand. Then he looked at me. “You were saying something.”

I let go of him. “You’re an asshole.”

He smiled. “I know.”

I pushed his chest. “Sit down.”

He laughed quietly and returned to his chair.

I picked up my coffee, mostly so I had something to do with my hands.

I studied him. “Are you dangerous?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. “Eat your breakfast.”

I stared at him. “That wasn’t an answer.”

Before he could say anything, my phone buzzed on the counter.

I reached for it, but Cass got there first. He glanced at the screen. His expression changed.

I noticed immediately. “Who is it?”

He looked at me. “Your brother.”

I held out my hand.

“Give me my phone.”

He did.

I answered the call. “Hey, Ethan.”

There was a pause.

Then Ethan’s voice came through. “Where are you?”

“Home.”

“Are you okay?”

I looked at Cass.

He was already watching me.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I heard about what happened.”

“How?”

Another pause.

“People talk.”

I frowned at the phone after the call ended. People talk? About what? And how quickly had they started talking?

Before I could ask, Ethan said, “I’ll come by later.”

“Okay.”

The call ended. I put the phone down. Cass hadn’t moved.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you look like you’re about to say something and then decide not to.”

His jaw tightened. “Your brother shouldn’t be coming here.”

I stared at him. “Why? How did you know I have a brother anyway?”

He stood and reached for his jacket. “Because I said so.”

I laughed. “That’s getting old.”

He slipped the jacket on and glanced at me. “You’ll understand eventually.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

He walked toward the door.

I followed him. “Where are you going?”

“Work.”

I stopped. “Are you a cop?”

He looked back at me. “Security.”

“What kind of security?”

His mouth curved. “The kind that keeps me busy.”

I folded my arms. “You know what? One day I’m going to figure you out.”

He opened the door. “Maybe.” Then he looked at me again. “And when you do, you’ll probably wish you hadn’t.” He walked away before I could answer.

I stood there staring at the closed door for a moment before turning back toward the kitchen. The breakfast was still sitting on the table, untouched except for what I’d eaten, and the coffee was still warm. I picked up the cup and took another sip, then looked toward the door again. He’d shown up without warning, brought me breakfast, told me not to go to work and kissed me when I was still angry with him. And somehow, the strangest part was that he’d known exactly which coffee to bring.

My phone buzzed again.

This time, it was a message from Roman.

Roman: Don’t open the door for anyone you don’t know.

I stared at the screen.

Then another message appeared.

Roman: Especially your brother.

My eyes stayed on the screen. I read the message again, slower this time, then looked toward my front door.

Then I called Cass. When his phone went straight to voicemail, I called Roman.

Roman answered on the second ring.

“Where is he?” I asked.

There was a short pause on the other end. “Good morning to you too.”

“Roman.”

“I’m listening.”

“Where is Cass?”

He paused, then sighed. “Didn’t he just leave your apartment?”

Okay, that was a fair question.

“Why are you saying I shouldn’t see my brother?”

“Should ask Cass, Soph.”

“You people are really bad at answering simple questions,” I muttered, throwing myself onto the couch.

“We’re actually very good at answering them. We’re just choosing not to answer yours.”

I stared at the wall. “That’s not making me feel better.”

“It wasn’t supposed to.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Roman, I’m going to see my brother.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m not asking permission. I haven’t seen Ethan since the shooting, and now you’re telling me I can’t see my own brother without explaining why?”

“I’m telling you that right now isn’t a good time.”

“That’s not an explanation.”

“It’s the one I have.”

I got to my feet again because sitting still while Roman casually told me what I could and couldn’t do was making my blood pressure rise. “You showed up at my apartment this morning, told me yesterday wasn’t random, gave me your number because apparently I’m now part of something I know nothing about, and then you tell me I can’t see my brother. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“Sophia.”

“No. Don’t Sophia me.”

He sighed. “Your brother isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Fine. Then I’m seeing him.”

“You really are stubborn.”

“I prefer determined.”

“I’ll tell Cass.”

“Tell him whatever you want.”

I ended the call before he could say anything else.

For the next few hours, I tried to work from home, which was harder than it sounded when every few minutes my mind wandered back to the shooting, Roman’s warning, and the fact that my boyfriend, who apparently wasn’t technically my boyfriend because we’d never had that conversation, had somehow acquired a small army of men who seemed to think keeping me alive was part of their job description. The only good part about this whole thing was that I’d stopped worrying about Victor’s files. I had my own problems that didn’t involve getting on the nerves of a client.

By one o’clock, I was standing in my kitchen making another cup of coffee when someone knocked. This time I knew exactly who it was. I opened the door and found Ethan standing there with his hands in his jacket pockets. Why he couldn’t just use his key was beyond me. I just filed it as him thinking I’d freak out after what happened.

He looked at me for a second before stepping inside. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He looked over my shoulder. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

He came farther into the apartment, and I closed the door behind him. “You could’ve called.”

“I did.”

“We could’ve done this over the phone then.”

He smiled. “Being your brother.”

“That’s not a job.”

“It is when you’re you.”

I rolled my eyes and walked toward the kitchen. “Do you want coffee?”

“Sure.”

I grabbed another mug and filled it. Ethan leaned against the counter, watching me in that way he had when he wanted to ask something but was trying to decide how to word it.

I handed him the mug. “What?”

“What?”

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you stare at me like you’re waiting for me to confess to something.”

He laughed. “I heard about yesterday.”

“Apparently.”

His smile faded slightly. “Sophia.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know you keep saying that.”

“Because I am.”

He looked down at his coffee. “Who was the guy with you?”

I paused. “What guy?”

“The one people said was with you yesterday.”

Who are these people? Someone from the next building?

I frowned. “They saw Cass?”

“Cass?”

I stared at him.

He blinked. “That’s his name?”

I slowly set my cup down. “Who told you about any of this? I left Cass at my office yesterday after he saved me. Was there someone else at my office?”

He looked away. “A police friend told me.”

That was enough to make me suspicious. “You have a police friend?”

He ignored me and looked down at his coffee. “So who’s Cass?”

I looked at him. “Why?”

“I’m just asking.”

“You’ve already asked me about him.”

“Your boyfriend?”

I laughed. “God, no.”

Ethan smiled. “You sure?”

“We never had that conversation.”

He nodded slowly. “But you’ve been seeing him?”

“For a while.”

“How long?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you suddenly interested in my love life?”

“I’m your brother. I’m allowed to be interested.”

“You’re nosy.”

“Runs in the family.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “Who is your police friend?”

“No one.”

I folded my arms. “You’re terrible at lying.”

He laughed, but it sounded forced. “And you’re terrible at minding your own business.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Before he could answer, someone knocked on the door. Ethan glanced toward it. I walked over and opened it.

Brianna stood there holding a bottle of tequila in one hand and a bag of ice in the other. Monica stood beside her with two bottles of something else tucked under her arm.

Brianna pushed past me before I could say hello. “You got shot at and didn’t call me?”

“I didn’t get shot.”

“That is not the point.”

Monica walked in behind her and looked at Ethan. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

Brianna put the tequila on the kitchen counter. “We heard what happened.”

I closed the door. “How?”

“People talk.”

I stared at her.

She shrugged. “Apparently faster than you do.”

Monica set the other bottles down. “We came to check on you.”

“And drink my alcohol.”

Brianna looked offended. “Your alcohol?”

“I know you. What you brought is not nearly enough.”

“Exactly. Which is why you should appreciate me bringing more.”

I laughed despite myself.

Ethan shook his head. “I’ll leave you girls to it.”

“Good idea,” Brianna said.

He looked at her. “Nice seeing you too.”

“You too.”

He walked toward the door, but before he reached it, I stopped him. “Where are you going?”

“I have somewhere to be.”

“You just got here.”

“I’ll come back later.”

I frowned. “Why?”

He hesitated for half a second. “I said I’d come back.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

He smiled. “You worry too much.” He opened the door.

“Ethan.”

He looked back.

“Be careful.”

His expression changed for just a second before he nodded. “Always.”

Then he left.

I locked the door behind him and turned around. Brianna was already opening the tequila.

“You should pay rent.”

“I brought medicine.”

“Tequila isn’t medicine.”

“It is when your best friend gets shot at and doesn’t bother calling you.”

“I wasn’t—”

She cut me off. “You were surrounded by gunfire. Details.”

Monica took the bottle from her before she could pour herself half a glass. “You said we were checking on her.”

“We are checking on her.”

I laughed and reached for a glass. “Fine. Pour me one.”

Brianna grinned. “That’s my girl.” She pointed toward the window. “There’s two hot men outside your building.”

I walked toward the window. “What?”

“Two very hot men,” she repeated. “Something about security.”

Monica joined us, pushing the curtain aside slightly. “They look familiar.”

“From where?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Brianna glanced at her. “You remember hot men but not where you saw them?”

“I remember faces.”

I looked through the gap in the curtain. Two men stood across the street near a black SUV. One had a toolbox. He was tall and broad, wearing a black vest over a dark shirt. The other stood beside him, slightly leaner, his attention moving between the street, the building, and the people walking past. Neither looked like they were waiting for a bus.

Brianna leaned closer to the window. “They’re definitely not here for the scenery.”

Monica nodded. “I swear I’ve seen them somewhere.”

I let the curtain fall. “Maybe they’re cops.”

Brianna turned around. “Cops don’t usually look that good.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re welcome.”

We poured the tequila.

An hour later, the bottle was already missing a respectable amount, and Brianna had completely forgotten that she was supposed to be angry with me. She was sitting on my couch with one leg tucked underneath her, explaining why she thought the taller man outside had been staring at her when someone knocked on my door again.

We all stopped. I looked at Monica. Monica looked at Brianna.

Brianna lowered her glass. “If that’s one of those hot men, I’m answering.”

“I’m answering my own door.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

I walked over and opened it. The two men from outside stood in the hallway. Up close, they were even more intimidating. The taller one looked at me first. His expression was unreadable as his eyes moved briefly over the apartment behind me before returning to my face. The other man stood slightly behind him, his attention already moving past my shoulder. Neither looked surprised to see the alcohol.

I looked from one to the other. “Can I help you?”

The taller man nodded. “I’m Jax.”

The other man gave me a brief look. “Dante.”

I stared at them. Neither name meant anything to me.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “And who are you?”

Jax looked at me. “We’re here to do surveillance.”

I frowned. “I didn’t call for surveillance.”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

Dante looked past me again. His eyes landed on Brianna. She was now standing near the kitchen, her glass in her hand. For the first time since they’d arrived, Dante’s expression changed. It wasn’t much. Just a slight narrowing of his eyes. Jax noticed him too.

I looked between all three men. “What?”

Dante didn’t answer.

Monica did. “They’re Black Forge.”

“They’re Black Forge.” Monica said it so casually that for a second I thought I’d heard her wrong.

I looked at her, then at the two men standing in my doorway. “Black what?”

“Black Forge.” Monica pointed toward the taller man’s arm. “The tattoo.”

I looked down.

The taller man had pushed his sleeve up slightly, exposing black ink along his forearm. I hadn’t noticed it before. There was a symbol worked into the design, and once Monica pointed it out, I could see the same mark on the other man, partly hidden beneath the side of his shirt’s neckline.

Brianna appeared beside Monica, squinting at them. “Wait.”

She looked at Monica.

Monica nodded.

“Oh my God.” Brianna looked back at the men. “Those are the guys from the club.”

I frowned. “What club?”

“The club where you met your booty-call,” Monica said. “The VIP section. Ten hot guys. All tattooed up except for your guy.”

I looked at the two men again. Nothing about them was helping me remember anything. I vaguely remembered a group of ridiculously attractive men sitting in the VIP booth that night, but I’d been more interested in my drink and the man who kept staring at me. Turns out I had been surrounded by information I should have been paying attention to.

“You’re Black Forge?” I asked.

The taller man nodded. “Yes.”

“And that’s supposed to mean something to me?”

Brianna made a small sound behind me. “Sophia.”

“What?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

“No. Should I?”

She stared at me like I’d admitted I didn’t know what a phone was.

Monica stepped closer. “Black Forge is a motorcycle club.”

I looked at the men again. Motorcycle club. That explained the tattoos. The vests too. It still didn’t explain why two of them were standing outside my apartment with a toolbox, apparently planning to turn my home into a surveillance operation.

I looked back at Jax. “Why are you here?”

“To install security. I believe we’ve said this.” The one called Jax muttered.

“I didn’t ask for security.” I whispered.

“You’ve said that too.” Dante rolled his eyes.

“Cass did.”

My eyebrows went up. Of course he did. I pulled my phone from my pocket and stared at his name for a second. I considered calling Roman, but I was already tired of talking to men who knew things about my life and apparently considered explanations optional.

I called Cass instead. Not that he was any different.

He answered after two rings. “Hey, babe.”

I hated how normal he sounded when my entire day had been anything but.

“Did you send two men from a motorcycle club to my apartment?”

There was a short pause.

“Yes.”

I turned away from the doorway and lowered my voice. “You could have mentioned that before they showed up.”

“You were busy.”

“With what?”

“Your friends.”

“Did they report that to you?” I glanced at Brianna, who was watching me with a very interested expression. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“They’ll take care of it.”

“Cass.”

“What?”

“I have questions.”

“I know.”

“You still haven’t told me your last name. Or why men shot up my office building.”

He didn’t answer, but I could hear him breathing. I waited. Nothing.

“Are you seriously going to ignore that again?”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“Cass.”

“Tonight, Sophia.” He chuckled, then said. “Behave, babe.”

The line went dead. I stared at my phone. How did I get myself into this shit?

Brianna immediately raised her eyebrows. “Well?”

I slowly lowered the phone. “He hung up.”

“I’m surprised he even answered. Didn’t he used to ignore your calls?”

“I only called him four times.” I groaned. The heat that rose up my neck was enough to give me a tomato face.

Monica looked toward Jax and Dante. “At least he confirmed they’re his men.”

“Apparently that’s supposed to make me feel better.”

“It probably should,” Jax said.

I looked at him. “Nobody asked you.”

His mouth twitched.

Dante looked completely uninterested in our conversation. He kept scanning the apartment, looking at windows and corners like he’d been hired to judge whether I had any chance of surviving an attack in my own living room.

I stepped aside. “Fine. Come in.”

Jax walked in first, followed by Dante. They moved through the apartment without wasting time, and I watched them start checking the doors and windows.

Brianna leaned toward me. “They’re very serious.”

“I noticed.”

“Also, I think the quiet one is hotter up close.”

I glanced at Dante. He didn’t react.

“Don’t let him hear you.”

“Why?”

“Because he looks like he’d bury you in the parking lot.”

Brianna took another sip of tequila. “Worth it.”

Monica covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

I shook my head and followed Jax toward the living room. “So what exactly are you installing?”

“Cameras at the entrances, motion sensors, door alarms and a few other things.”

“A few other things?”

“Nothing invasive.”

I looked at him suspiciously. “That’s exactly what someone about to invade my privacy would say.”

He laughed. “She speaks truth.”

“I’m standing right here.”

“I know.”

Dante finally spoke from the other side of the room. “Window.”

Jax turned.

Dante pointed toward the balcony. Jax nodded and walked over. I watched them for a moment before turning back to the girls.

“You really recognize them from the club?” I asked.

Monica nodded. “I’ve seen that tattoo a couple of times. And yeah, they were definitely at the club.”

“Do you remember anything else?”

She shook her head. “Not really. There were a lot of men.”

Brianna snorted. “There were ten.”

I looked at her. “How do you remember that?”

“Because I counted.”

“Why?”

“Because they were all hot. And don’t act like you didn’t count.”

I laughed. “Of course I did.”

She lifted her glass. “We have priorities.”

Jax walked back into the room carrying a small device. “You girls talking about us?”

“No,” Brianna said immediately.

Jax looked at her.

She smiled sweetly. “Maybe.”

He laughed.

Dante walked past him without saying anything.

Jax watched him go. “He doesn’t talk much.”

“I gathered.”

“That’s why I do enough for both of us.”

I looked at him more carefully. That sounded like a warning. He did seem and act like the talkative kind. Though I remembered the men from the club all sitting quietly, watching the scenery. Jax really didn’t fit into that image.

“So,” I said, trying to sound casual, “you know Cass well?”

Jax glanced at me. “Yeah.”

“You working today?” Dante suddenly turned back, looking like he was running out of patience.

I chose to ignore him. “How well?”

“Well enough.” Jax nodded.

I nodded slowly, pretending that answer didn’t interest me. “Does he work with Black Forge?”

Jax gave me a strange look. “Work with?”

“Whatever you call it.”

“He’s one of us.”

I stared at him. “So Cass is in the motorcycle club?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He smiled like that didn’t even begin to sum it up.

I tried not to react too strongly. Somehow, hearing it from someone else made it more real. I knew Cass carried a gun. I knew Roman belonged to whatever strange world had suddenly appeared around me. I knew men listened when Cass spoke. I just hadn’t connected all of that to motorcycles and club tattoos. Mainly because Cass didn’t have a single tattoo on his skin.

“Huh,” I said.

Jax grinned. “You didn’t know?”

“No.”

He looked genuinely surprised.

Brianna burst out laughing.

I gave her a look. “Don’t.”

She held up her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand how you’ve been sleeping with this man for months and somehow missed the fact that he’s in a motorcycle club.”

“I didn’t exactly get a résumé.”

Jax laughed.

I turned back to him. “What’s his position?”

Jax opened his mouth.

Dante appeared behind him. “Don’t.”

Jax looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“Don’t.”

“I’m just answering her question.”

“Don’t.”

I looked between them. Whatever Jax was about to say, Dante clearly didn’t want him saying it.

“Fine,” I said, holding up my hands. “I don’t need to know.”

Jax looked relieved for about half a second before his attention drifted toward the kitchen. “That’s probably wise.”

“Don’t sound so pleased with yourself.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

He smiled and went back to whatever he was doing with the device in his hands.

I left them to their mysterious little security operation and went back to the kitchen. Tequila sounded more useful than another question Jax wasn’t allowed to answer. I walked back into the kitchen and refilled my glass. Brianna was already sitting at the counter, watching Jax work through the doorway. Monica had taken the stool beside her and was nursing her drink like she was trying to make the bottle last all afternoon.

“So,” Brianna said, lowering her voice even though Jax was across the apartment, “your mysterious man is actually in a motorcycle club.”

I took a drink. “Apparently.”

“And you didn’t know.”

“No.”

She shook her head slowly. “Sophia, I’m beginning to question your investigative skills.”

“I’m a forensic accountant, not a private investigator.”

“You’ve been sleeping with him for months.”

“And?”

“You never once thought to Google him?”

I gave her a look. “What exactly was I supposed to Google? ‘Tall asshole who comes to my apartment at night and refuses to tell me anything’?”

Monica laughed into her glass.

Brianna pointed at me. “Yes. Exactly that.” She leaned closer. “So what else don’t you know?”

I opened my mouth, then stopped. Then opened it again. “I don’t know where he works,” I admitted. “I don’t know where he lives. I don’t know why he disappears for days. I don’t know why Roman seems to think he can tell me what to do. I don’t know why Cass knows so many men who carry guns.”

Brianna stared at me. “You really picked a normal guy.”

“Who is Roman?” Monica blinked up at me.

“A friend of Cass.”

“You didn’t even know Cass’s last name.”

“You keep circling back to that, Sherlock.”

Monica glanced toward the living room. “Maybe you should ask Jax.”

I shook my head. “No. If he wanted me to know, he would’ve told me himself.”

Brianna looked at me. “And you’re okay with that?”

“No.”

“Then why aren’t you asking?”

“Because I’m already tired of asking.” I took another drink and looked at Brianna. “Besides, I have a feeling Jax talks too much already.”

From the living room came a muffled laugh.

Brianna grinned. “He definitely heard that.”

“Good.”

She raised her glass. “To men who can’t mind their own business.”

Monica lifted hers. “And women who don’t either.”

We clinked glasses.

I was halfway through another sip when Brianna started talking about the night we’d met Cass, reminding me how she’d spent half the evening trying to convince me to talk to him. I corrected her twice, because she was making herself sound much more helpful than she’d actually been, and Monica kept laughing every time Brianna insisted she had known from the beginning that something about him was fishy.

“He wasn’t even talking to anyone,” Monica said. “He was just sitting there watching you.”

“I remember that part.”

Brianna pointed at me. “Exactly. You knew he was watching you and still went over there.”

“I was curious.”

“You were horny.”

“Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Monica nearly choked on her drink.

I laughed and reached for the bottle. “Anyway, I thought he was just some guy.”

“Some guy you kept letting into your cookie jar months after,” she looked me up and down as if disgusted, “and apparently he has an entire motorcycle club behind him.”

“Yeah.” I grinned. I knew how ridiculous it sounded.

I poured myself another drink and shook my head. “I think he is a cop.”

From behind us came a loud, disbelieving voice.

“Cass?”

We all turned.

Jax was standing near the living room, staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

He looked at Dante. Then back at me. “Cass?” he repeated. “Cassian Voss, a cop?”

My hand stopped halfway to my mouth.

Brianna slowly lowered her glass.

Monica’s eyes widened.

Jax stared at all three of us as if he’d just walked into the wrong conversation. “Ain’t no way.”

I put my glass down. “What did you just say?”

Dante closed his eyes briefly.

Jax looked at him. “What?”

I was already walking toward him. “Cassian Voss?”

Jax rubbed the back of his neck. “You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t know shit.” I pointed at him. “Give this man a drink.”

Brianna jumped off the counter. “Want one?”

Jax looked between us. “No.”

“You are fucked,” Dante muttered without even looking over. But I knew he meant Jax.

Monica was already reaching for her phone.

Jax sighed. “How the fuck was I supposed to know.”

“I have been telling you that I don’t know.” I said.

He stared at me for another second. Then he looked at Dante. “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

Dante didn’t answer. Jax’s grin disappeared.

“What?” Brianna demanded.

I stared at her.

Cassian Voss.

For months, he was Cass. Just Cass. The man who showed up whenever he felt like it, took over my bed, stole my coffee in the morning and disappeared before I could ask anything about his life.

Monica was already typing. “Wait,” she said. “There are a lot of Cassian Vosses.”

“Not this one,” Jax muttered.

Brianna grabbed Monica’s phone. “Give me that.”

“You have your own phone.”

“Yours is already unlocked.”

I laughed as Monica let it go, and the three of us crowded around the screen while Jax went back to his work and Dante continued pretending none of this was happening.

The first result was a business article.

Cassian Voss.

My eyes moved over the headline. Then I stopped. “Wait.”

Brianna leaned closer. “What?”

I scrolled. Then I scrolled back up. “No.”

Monica looked at me. “What?”

I turned the phone toward them.

The article had his photograph beside it.

There was no mistaking him.

Same dark eyes. Same square jaw. Same expression that always made me feel like he knew exactly what I was thinking before I said it.

Brianna stared at the screen. “Oh my God.”

Monica covered her mouth. I looked at Jax. He was suddenly very interested in the device in his hands. I looked back at the screen.

Cassian Voss wasn’t just some guy with a motorcycle. He was a billionaire.

I grabbed the phone from Brianna and started scrolling faster. “Hold on.”

“I’m trying to read,” Monica said.

“I’m trying to understand.”

Brianna leaned over my shoulder. “He’s a billionaire CEO?”

“Apparently.”

“How much money does this man have?”

“I don’t know.”

“Keep scrolling.”

I did.

There were articles about Voss companies, business deals, properties and charity events. Photographs of Cass in expensive suits standing beside people whose names I recognized from business magazines. There was even a picture of him stepping out of a black car in front of a building with his name on it.

I stared at the screen.

Then at the man in my living room wearing jeans and a plain black shirt while he installed a security camera in my apartment.

I looked back at the phone.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Brianna burst out laughing. “Your booty call is a motherfucking billionaire.”

“Stop saying it like that.”

“Your billionaire booty call.”

“Brianna.”

She was laughing too hard to care.

Monica looked between us, trying not to smile. “Sophia, you really didn’t know?”

“No.”

“You never saw him online?”

“No.”

“Magazines?”

“Mm,” Monica nodded. “You are always on those finance magazines.”

“Shush!” That shut them up for a second.

Then Brianna started laughing again.

I grabbed the tequila and poured myself another drink. “I slept with a billionaire.”

“You did more than sleep with him,” Brianna said.

I pointed the bottle at her. “Don’t.”

She lifted both hands. “I’m just saying.”

Monica was scrolling again. “There’s something about Black Forge here.”

I leaned over.

The article mentioned Black Forge’s businesses and security operations, but there wasn’t much else. No explanation of who ran the club. No explanation of what Cass had to do with it. I glanced toward Jax.

He was still working.

“Does Cass own Black Forge?” I asked.

Jax didn’t answer.

Dante looked at him.

Jax kept his mouth shut this time.

I smiled to myself. “Smart.”

Brianna leaned against the counter. “So let me get this straight. Your mysterious booty call is a billionaire, he’s in a motorcycle club, his friends are armed, and two of them are currently installing security in your apartment.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds slightly concerning.”

“It is concerning.”

I took another drink.

She wasn’t wrong.

My phone buzzed on the counter.

I glanced at the screen.

Unknown number.

I picked it up.

The message was short.

Unknown number: Stop digging into things that don’t concern you, accountant.

I read it more than once.

Brianna noticed my face. “What?”

I handed her the phone.

She read the message, and leaned over her shoulder. Neither of them laughed this time. I looked toward the living room.

Jax had stopped working. Dante was already looking at me.

Whoever sent that message knew exactly what I did for a living.