“Still with the lawyers. But I think before the end of the week.”

“Good. I want it official. No backing out then.”

“There’s no reason to assume Soren is going to back out.”

Except maybe if I kept letting him put his hands on me and it all blew up in our faces.

“Soren, huh?”

“We’ve seen each other a few times now. It’d be weird if I kept calling him Mr. Vale.”

“Heard you went out with him last night.”

I hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with that information with Bastian or Serano. How did he know then?

Had someone seen me?

And, if so, how much had they seen?

“The bouncer,” Renzo said. “He’s one of my associates. He said he thought he saw you, but your hair was different.”

He had been giving me a weird look, come to think of it.

But if Renzo had someone working at that club, I guess it was a good thing that it was someone who was outside. There was no way the bouncer could have seen what happened on the dance floor.

He could have seen—

“He said you stormed out at some point. And Vale chased after you.”

“We had a disagreement,” I said, shrugging it off.

“About what?” Renzo asked, those keen eyes pinning me.

Crap.

“You know me,” I said, waving a hand, trying to play it down.

“That I do. And, Saff, I thought I made it clear that you can’t go fucking this job up just because you can’t control your temper.”

Yeah, it wasn’t my temper that was the problem.

“I’m not fucking anything up. We had a perfectly amicable meeting and got most of the design plans hammered out.”

“Luckily, once the papers are signed, you don’t really need to be seeing Vale. At least not until the club is open.”

“Don’t you think it would be weird for me to be hands-off, then suddenly all over the place when it opens?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Besides, don’t you want me to have some of our people hired there? I can’t do that if I’m not involved in everything.”

“Alright. But if you start butting heads with him, I need to know you will take a step back and de-escalate the situation.”

“When have I ever given you a reason to doubt my ability to handle my job?”

“We both know your temper can—”

“Renz, don’t.”