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“I don’t like him,” I say.

“Why?” she presses.

I stare at her, then at Brox, then back at her.

“Because I say so,” I reply finally. “That’s enough.”

She scoffs, incredulous. Brox remains quiet, but I see the conflict on his face. He liked what he heard. He didn’t like how quickly Lana warmed to the man.

“You are both jealous,” Lana declares.

“Like hell I am.” I snap back at her.

“He made me laugh twice, and suddenly he’s a security risk?”

Brox rubs a hand over his jaw.

“Did you not notice he’s gay?” She says.

I stare at her. Brox stares at her.

“What?” we say at the same time.

She shrugs, smug.

“How he talked? How he held himself? The way he looked at you when he said jiu-jitsu? That man doesn’t want my panties. He wants your shoe collection.”

I blink.

“That is a stereotype,” I say, although I replay the interaction in my head and catch details I missed in my initial irritation.

“Fine, don’t take my word for it,” she says. “Ask Sol.”

I unlock my cell and fire off a quick message.

‘He dating men or women?’

The reply comes back within seconds.

‘Men. Problem?’

My jaw works.

‘No problem,’ I type back. ‘Run the check. If he clears, hire him. Penthouse only. Immediate start.’

I lock the cell and look at Lana.

“Well?” she prompts.

“You were right,” I admit, grudgingly.

Her smile turns bright and victorious.

“You two were jealous of a gay man,” she says. “Adorable.”

Brox huffs out a breath that might be a laugh.

“I wasn’t jealous,” he mutters.