Page 4 of Ace of Swords

Sergio squinted at me. We were nearly eye to eye—I was only an inch taller than the massive man. I wondered if I’d look like him when I was in my fifties, too. Like a guy who’d body-built his whole life while never cutting back on an extra slice of pizza at each meal. “Rolland, listen to me closely. I like you. I like your mind even better. I’m not keeping you on the clock, so if you want to juggle numbers, I can’t stop you. But I don’t want to hear any of it this evening.”

The subtle rumble of his threat made my heart jump. It was easy to forget the rumors about Sergio Montalla. His company was legit as legit could be, but men like him—with a long history and longer friendships—were dangerous.

“I understand,” I said.

“Good.”

We continued walking with the tension hanging between us. It remained like cloying smoke through the foyer, the massive game room, the chaotic kitchen, and finally, the grand ballroom. I counted up the ice sculptures—fifty, really?—then the towers of macarons shaped like rainbow colored Christmas trees. He really expected me to ignore how much this party cost?

“Sergio!” a gritty voice shouted. I turned to spot a smooth-headed man waving across the room.

“That’s Wes,” my boss explained in my ear. He swung his arm back in a polite gesture. “I need to talk to him. Keep up appearances and all that.” He gave me a quick jab in the ribs. “You have fun, that’s an order.”

I managed a tight smile. “I don’t remember anything in my contract that says you can order me around.”

Sergio’s lips curled higher, but there was no humor lightening his hard tone. “Not everything has to be written down. Some things are just assumed by wise men, Rolland.”

Standing straighter, I watched him head towards Wes and the others.He really wants me to relax. Fine.There was enough alcohol and food at this party to lose an hour in. It wasn’t like I hated parties—I just preferred quieter settings. Noise messed with my head, and I loathed anytime my wits weren’t razor-sharp.

Distractions never helped anyone.

“Excuse me,” a warm, flowing voice said at my elbow. “I don’t think you belong here.”

Blinking, I stared down at the woman, making sure she was speaking to me. Her almond-eyes glistened under a heavy roof of lashes. There was no question that those gorgeous eyes were focused on me. “I was invited,” I said, “Of course I belong.”

“Oh no.” She clicked her tongue—I caught myself staring at how pink it was against her plum lipstick. “I can spot an outcast a mile away. The guys who come to these events have one thing in common.”

“And what’s that?”

Her smile lit up my heart. “They drink. A lot. And your hand is empty, so...”

Caught off guard—and loving it—I cupped the back of my neck. “Fair enough.”

“Did no one come around and offer you something?” she asked, scanning the room with her hands on her luscious hips. “I’ll wave someone down.”

“No, no. I just—”Don’t drink much,I almost said. Should have said. Why didn’t I? “Don’t go to any trouble. The staff here are working themselves to the bone.”

She lifted her eyebrows dubiously. “You think Sergio doesn’t pay them enough for that?”

“He pays everyone too much,” I corrected her with a chuckle.

Something flashed in her eyes, so slippery I couldn’t make sense of it. “That’s a good thing,” she said.

“Good for them. Not good for Sergio.”

Her mouth went tight. “Whoareyou?”

Shit. I was being too loose with my tongue. This girl could be someone who’d run to Sergio and claim I was bad-talking him. “Rolland. I work for him, I’m in charge of keeping him from bleeding his coffers dry. And you’re...”

Five slim, pink-glossy tipped fingers extended my way. “Nobody you should care about.”

I shook her hand. Her soft as hell fucking hand. “But you do have a name.”

“Of course. A very nice one.”

“Which is?”

Her smile grew so wide I could count her porcelain-white teeth. “Call me your excuse for getting a drink and avoiding more boring conversations. Let’s get some air out back.”

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