Page 41 of Mr. Wilde

Lala pops an appetizer in her mouth before patting her lower lip with her finger. “Not much. He’s cute. Always very polite. He’s quite aloof, never asking personal questions of any of the girls. From my recollection, he’s always been very private.” She reaches for a cocktail napkin and dabs the corner of her mouth. “He never brings anyone here.”

“Not even a friend?”

“Nope. Not a female one, anyway. Just that loud guy, Frank. He’s a bit rough around the edges. Like someone else I know.” Lala scrunches her face as she looks in Candice’s direction, “but the guy seems harmless. Max dances with the women here sometimes, but nothing like Mr. Sly or Dr. Ryan.”

Brier must overhear us while inspecting a row of tiny appetizers. “Yeah, the irony. Lifelong bachelors who dance like they’re trying to impregnate someone through their Hugo Boss suit pants.”

When she walks off, I lower my voice. “Maybe he keeps his fun on the upper floors.”

Lala shrugs. “Maybe. But I’ve never heard rumors. And most of them seem to make it my direction, one way or another.” She snickers. “He might go up to watch.”

I blink. “Watch?”

She giggles at my shock. “Voyeur rooms. Devon Sly practically has a season pass.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh.”

“But Max?” she adds. “If that’s his thing, he’s discreet. Honestly, I think he just likes being here with his friends. If he gets his physical needs met through Gianni’s organization, it likely happens at The Rox. It’s far more discreet.”

“Does Gianni go there?” I whisper.

Her face falls. “I doubt it. He probably has a whole separate place for that kind of thing that I don’t know about.”

I can’t help but take in her expression. It mimics the way I feel when I consider Max entertaining women. I have no right to have an opinion on the subject. He’s a rich, attractive, red-blooded man who I’m sure has a healthy sexual appetite. The thought causes my cheeks to heat. Yet his relationships are no more my business than Lala’s boss’s are to her.

Candice drifts by, tucking a second meatball inside her mouth, causing her face to resemble a chipmunk. “I still think he could be gay.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes at her comment. While I can’t possibly know for certain, there isn’t an ounce of me that thinks he only has eyes for men.

Brier stares at Candice and wrinkles her nose. “Why does that bring the mental image of something else in her mouth?”

Lala laughs, but the humor is lost on me. I’m too distracted. My earlier thoughts linger. Had I imagined everything? Max’s eyes on mine? The spark in the air between us? Maybe he was merely investigating the new girl. I mean, his mind probably works like mine does. It’s hard to turn it off.

My body warms, and I close my eyes, unsure if it’s the Baked Alaska or my own stupid thoughts of him doing this to me. Until I feel that telltale current in the air. That subtle awareness, like the room just tilted.

A deep voice tickles the shell of my ear from behind me. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I have a word, Cassidy?”

16

MAX

I find Cassidy exactly where I thought she’d be after hearing the girls were taste testing the menu items for the upcoming seventies party. As I approach, I locate her near the bar, half-listening to Candice and Fern debate something involving fondue.

I’m more nervous than I’m accustomed. The memory of the look on her face when I snapped at her last night has haunted me. What if I can’t convey my genuine regret?

There’s no way around it. I need to come clean with her about the sensitive nature of my work. As many times as I’ve rehearsed it in my head, I still don’t know how to fully explain without telling her too much about my illegal endeavors.

The part of my agitation related to my attraction to her… well, that will stay buried. Because I need to squash whatever the hell this is before things get any more complicated.

Standing behind her, I clear my throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I have a word, Cassidy?”

She turns, surprise flickering across her face before she schools it into something lifeless. Her features become stiff and guarded.

“Can we… talk?” I stammer. “Somewhere private?”

Her eyes follow my finger as I point to the stairs. The second floor. Hell, I hope she doesn’t think I mean the private rooms higher up. I only wanted to take her to the quiet lounge.

Cassidy checks her watch. “Okay. I’ve got a few minutes before my shift officially starts.”