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Every instinct in my body goes tight as he crosses over and comes to stand directly in front of me. “Adrian,” I say flatly.

His gaze shifts immediately toward Sloane. Interest flickers there instantly, and I have to keep myself from physically shielding her from him.

“And who’s this?”

I feel Sloane glance at me.

Waiting.

Watching.

The automatic answer sits on the tip of my tongue before I even think about it. “It’s none of your concern.”

Adrian’s brows lift slightly, amused rather than offended.

“Touchy.” He slides his phone into his pocket before looking back toward Sloane with that same polished ease. “Does Nate know about your outside attachments now?”

The question lands carefully, like he’s testing for fractures.

I’m already stepping forward when Sloane beats me to it. “Any concerns you have regarding Mr. Blackwell, Mr. Narváez, or Mr. Baptiste,” she says, “can be addressed Monday through Friday between the hours of eight and five.”

Adrian blinks once.

Sloane smiles sweetly.

“If it’s not business-related,” she continues, “I strongly encourage you to resume minding the business that pays you.”

Silence holds for half a second before a full fucking laugh punches out of me, louder than I intended and impossible to stop.

Beside me, a pleased smile plays at her lips as she watches me, like she's proud that she pulled that sound from me. Adrian, meanwhile, just stares down at her with open intrigue, as if she’s become far more interesting than the conversation he expected.

“Well,” he says after a beat. “She’s mouthy.”

“Very,” I mutter, still grinning despite myself.

Sloane scrutinizes both of us before the sleek black SUV finally pulls up to the curb.

Perfect timing.

She immediately grabs my arm. “We’re leaving,” she announces.

Adrian’s mouth twitches. “I gathered.”

Sloane doesn’t even dignify that with a response. She just tugs me toward the waiting car with the confidence of someone who believes she can physically drag me anywhere against my will.

The ridiculous part?

I'd let her.

twenty-five

Under the Surface

For one disorienting second, my half-asleep brain is still expecting things: Jace’s limbs tangled up with mine. The ghost of Nate’s cologne in the pillows. Elias already moving in the kitchen before sunrise, calm and certain as a tide.

I get cold sheets and silence instead.

Well. Not exactly.