“Yeah? Like what?”
“You’re the kind of girl who plays as hard as you work. Like Leo here.”
Dane angled his head to his friend, who offered him a smile and a mock salute in return.
“Just keeping you alive.”
Dane ignored him and continued. “The kind who works hard but isn’t afraid to get a little dirty.”
“Really? And what makes you think that?” When had my voice turned all breathy?
Still leaning against the counter, he turned his whole body to face me. His hand slowly reached up, and I held my breath when he cupped my cheek in the warmth of his palm. It was a bold move, touching me like that. But then again. I didn’t pull away.
“Call it a hunch.”
My two servers walked in with four empty trays between them, ending the moment. Dane didn’t move or pull away on their arrival, but I was the one who needed to be the professional, not him. Taking a step back and still feeling the heat of his hand on my cheek, I grabbed the newly stocked food trays and walked between the two of them to hand them off. It only made me realize how big they were, even with me in my crazy heels.
My shoes weren’t the only things crazy. This was crazy. I was crazy. I was working. Working! Being caught like this was probably a godsend. It reminded me that I wasn’t here to let loose. I was on the clock, not just for this party, but for the lineup of events with this influential client. I needed every dollar of his business to get by.
I couldn’t flirt with the guests, no matter how attractive they were. No matter how much my body wanted them. Fun could wait.
Work came first. Always. As the swinging door closed behind the servers, I took a deep breath, steeled myself against their charm. I turned and pulled up my professional facade once again. “I’m really sorry, Sir.” I looked from Dane and then at Leo. “The kitchen is off limits to guests, and I’m sure you don’t want me to get in trouble with my client. If you wouldn’t mind, the great room is through that door.” I raised my arm in the direction the servers had taken. “It’s lovely by the pool tonight. I hope you enjoy your evening.”
Dane opened his mouth to say something just as Mrs. O'Sullivan, the hostess of the party and my client, popped her well-coiffed head through the door I’d just indicated.
“Everyone loves the shrimp, dear. Please bring more.”
“Coming right up, Mrs. O'Sullivan,” I chirped, offering her my pleasant, I’ve got this smile.
Dane pushed off the counter, slipping one hand into his pocket after my client disappeared. “You’re right. Work comes first. We’ll let you get back to it, but don’t be surprised if Leo or I come looking for you later on. With all this work, you’ll need to unwind, and we’re just the guys to help with that.”
Leo winked at me in silent agreement to his friend’s words.
I barely reacted to what he said. On the outside, anyway. Inside, I was itching to find out what he meant.
Three
LEO
When Dane told me he had to go to an engagement party, I’d slapped him on the shoulder and told him to have fun. Without me. But when he’d said it was being hosted by the O'Sullivans of Long Island, I shut that shit down. I knew of the O'Sullivans. Who didn’t, besides Dane?
No one.
That was because the O'Sullivans were connected. Like seriously connected where a meeting with the head of the family, Mr. Shamus O'Sullivan himself, was often a one-way trip. Word on the street was that he shot people full of lead and asked questions after. That didn’t sit well with me, especially when Dane was walking right through their front door.
An engagement party was civilized and shit, but Shamus O'Sullivan wasn’t the least bit civilized. You could put lipstick on a fucking pig and all that. It was still a pig. And this engagement party might be a happy occasion for his twenty-something son and his fiancée, but with the amount of heat the men in the house were packing, it was just a front.
Sure, Mrs. O'Sullivan probably wore the pants in the relationship at events like this, but Shamus wouldn’t change. Shit was going down. No doubt about it. Deals being made, hits planned, all over a bunch of food you had to eat with your fingers, pinky up.
There was no fucking way I was letting Dane walk into that alone. It didn’t matter if his connection was loose—a client’s daughter was marrying the crime boss’s son—but if we were going through the front door, he’d been vetted. Since my job was to protect his ass, I’d put on a fucking suit and damned tie.
Eat one tiny bite at a time.
The minute we arrived, I could feel eyes on us. If shit was going to happen, I wanted a way out. And while Dane bitched about me being overly cautious, he could just fucking deal. I wasn’t going to bed with concrete shoes tonight and neither was he. Not on my watch. And so I followed my usual routine, identified any dangers, found the exits, and as I’d told him, a discreet safe exit all while a string quartet subtly played.
It had been all business until we saw her.
Fuck.