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“Pets,” I say, pitching my voice just loud enough to carry without breaking their rhythm. “Get dressed. Then come get some champagne.”

They turn as one, grins spreading instantly. Noor points toward the hallway. Maya grabs the bag where Rio set it down, and Lana’s hand, already tugging her along.

“Five minutes,” someone calls back.

Their footsteps fade down the corridor, laughter echoing faintly against the walls.

I turn back to the cart and I pour whiskey with care, the sound grounding me.

Rio joins me at the cart, his fingers already curling around the neck of the champagne bottle. He twists it with controlled ease, easing the cork free with a muted pop. As he pours, I reach into my pocket.

The vial rests there easily. Clear. Unremarkable. I uncap it and let one drop fall into each flute. Nothing more. Precision matters.

“Good old maca root,” Rio says, lifting his whiskey glass, amusement flickering in his eyes.

I snort quietly. “I’d say good old Doctor Morales. She’s the one who perfected this concoction. It’s literally just a nudge.”

A corner of my mouth lifts despite myself.

“Yeah,” Rio replies easily. “Cheers to her.”

We clink glasses. The sound rings brief and clean.

Whiskey burns on the way down, familiar, settling low in my chest. It steadies me. It always does.

“I doubt our pets need this,” I say, glancing toward the champagne flutes lined up on the counter.

Rio chuckles. “I know Lana doesn’t.” His gaze lifts to mine, sharp with humor. “Did she become privy to the Mile High Club on the way here?”

“Sadly, no,” I answer and then slowly, and deliberately, I let a smile surface on my face. “But she will be on our way back.”

Rio finishes his whiskey just as another knock echoes through the penthouse.

I don’t move right away. Neither does he. We exchange a brief look–knowing, aligned, ready. Everything is arriving exactly when it should.

CHAPTER 21

RIO

Brox rises first. He adjusts his cuffs as he crosses the room, his boots silent on the rug. I stay where I am, my shoulders loose, my posture open. If this turns hostile, I want them thinking I’m relaxed enough to be dangerous.

Brox opens the door.

A man in a tailored suit is standing on the other side, and for half a second, he just stares.

His eyes flick from Brox to me in the background. The reaction hits him in stages. Shock, sharp and immediate. Then something slower. Surprise giving way to disbelief.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just looks between us again, like his mind is struggling to reconcile what his eyes are showing him. Two men. Both looking like him.

It’s written all over his face–he can’t believe it. And if I’m honest, I have the same shock, but have learned to hide it well.

Brox tilts his head toward me. “My brother.”

His brows lift. “How many of you are there?” He asks, scanning the space.

“Only the two of us,” I say, and extend my hand. “Rio.”

He grips it firmly, measuring my strength, testing my dominance. I give him nothing extra. He nods once. “Rex.”