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Definitely not a hardship.

“Think of it as intelligence gathering.”

“I think of it as an HR nightmare.”

“You're very negative tonight.”

“And you're contemplating sleeping with a reporter who might be investigating your dead grandfather.”

That sobers me. Because she's right about the part that matters.

Granddad.

This isn't a game. Whatever attraction I feel toward Layla Hawthorne doesn't change that.

If she's after him, she's a threat.

A beautiful one.

A tempting one.

But still a threat.

And I know exactly how to handle threats.

I get close enough to understand them.

“Myrna?”

“Yes?”

“Go enjoy the party.”

She gives me a humorless laugh.

“You're dismissing me because you don't want me watching you make a terrible decision.”

“No. I'm dismissing you because I want that background check.”

“I said twenty minutes.”

“And I said fifteen.”

She mutters something under her breath and walks away. I straighten my jacket and start across the ballroom.

I make it twelve feet.

Congratulations.

Handshake.

Another six feet.

Photograph.

Four more.

A sponsor who asks for thirty seconds and somehow steals four fucking minutes.