“You might as well have worn a neon sign Sunday night. Jovial, relaxed, satiated. Too bad it didn’t last.”
Troy had no interest in this conversation, but he wasn’t going to lie, either. “It was a mistake. It’s over and done. It has no bearing on this.”
“You don’t want her to get hurt.”
Troy felt the jab directly in the center of his chest. “I don’t want anybody to get hurt.”
“Especially not her.”
“Can we end this conversation?”
Vegas shifted his leg and leaned forward. “Problem you’ve got is, it wasn’t about sex.”
Troy sat up straight. “I’m serious. This conversation is done.”
“You have feelings for her.”
“What do I have to do to shut you up?”
“You’re protecting her.”
“I’m protecting Kassidy.”
“You’re protecting Mila. It was bad enough when she was just another woman, just another Gabriela—”
“Shut up.” Troy rose to his feet, his stomach twisting into a knot.
Mila wasn’t Gabriela. But she was a woman. And Troy had learned from Gabriela. He had to have learned from Gabriela. Otherwise, Gabriela had died in vain.
Vegas set down his report and stood more slowly. “She’s an asset.”
“She’s a person.”
“So am I. So are you. So are Edison and Charlie.”
Troy glared at him. “She’s not like Edison and Charlie.”
“Trust her,” said Vegas. “You like her. You want her. I know you admire her. Now you’ve got to trust her.”
“I won’t kill her.”
“This isn’t about you.”
“You’re right. It’s about her, and what’s best for her. And what we do, who we are, is not best for her.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“Yes, it is.”
It was. Troy could decide to hire her, or he could decide to let her go. Letting her go was safe. Hiring her was fraught with risk.
Kassidy’s bedroom door opened, and Mila appeared.
Troy watched as she approached, unable to look away, his emotions hovering at the surface. She was wearing her usual cargo pants, tan colored today. They were topped with an olive-green T-shirt that stretched across her breasts, covering her shoulders in cap sleeves. Her hair was braided, her makeup nonexistent, and her worn leather boots were as serviceable as footwear could be.
She was drop-dead gorgeous.
He had to stop himself from going to her.
“We need to leave for the club in about fifteen minutes,” she told them.
“I’m coming,” said Troy.
She gave a nod, as if she’d expected the decision.
“I’ll take backstage tonight,” Troy stated. “Vegas will be at the door, and Charlie will be outside.”
“What about me?”
He wanted to tell her to stay here, to lie low with Drake and the nanny. As the thought flashed through his mind, he realized Vegas was at least partially right. Troy did want to keep Mila safe.
His feelings for her weren’t just about sex, and they weren’t just professional. He liked her far too much, and he wanted to protect her.
“I’ll mix with the crowd,” she spoke into his silence. Then she looked down at her outfit. “But I’m not going to blend in this.”
“Don’t spook the guy,” said Troy.
She gave him a look of reproach. “I won’t.”
“I want to see him in action, walking, talking.” It was the best plan he’d come up with. “Maybe that’ll jog my memory.”
“I’ll go put on something sexy.”
Troy’s throat went suddenly dry.
“I’m sure Kassidy has an outfit I can borrow. Maybe blazer guy will buy me a drink.”
“No.” Troy didn’t want Mila that close to the guy.
She frowned. “If he uses his credit card, we get his name. If I’m going to have the downsides of being a woman, I might as well have the upsides as well.”
“No,” Troy repeated.
“It’s not a bad plan,” said Vegas.
“Stay out of this.”
“Have I recently resigned as your partner?” asked Vegas. “Because I used to have a say in operations.”
“It’s a dangerous plan.”
“It’s a drink,” said Mila. “And Vegas will be right there. Not to mention you. Come on, Troy. Get a grip.”
“We don’t know who this guy is.”
Even as he said the words, Troy realized he was outdone. Vegas had an equal say in company operations. Troy couldn’t veto him. Besides, they were right. It was a reasonable plan. The danger was minimal. He didn’t know what was wrong with him.
“That would be the point,” said Mila, moving closer. “I can clean up. I can look like a girl. I could attract a guy’s attention.”
Troy opened his mouth, about to tell her she’d knock any guy with a pulse off his feet. He caught Vegas’s knowing smirk in his peripheral vision.
“Okay,” he said instead.
The answer seemed to take her by surprise. But she quickly recovered. “Give me ten minutes.” She headed back to Kassidy’s room.
* * *
Mila felt conspicuous dressed in Kassidy’s short kilt skirt. It was deep blue and green tones, pleated and flirty, barely falling to her midthighs. She’d paired it with a cropped black angora sweater, the sleeves pushed up above her elbows.
Kassidy had layered on some dramatic makeup while Mila had brushed out her hair. It was wavy now and looked slightly disheveled from the earlier French braid. She’d never attempted heels this high, but judging by the lingering looks coming her way, the outfit was working.
She hadn’t spotted the blazer guy yet. But she’d had three offers of drinks from other men. Through her discreet earpiece, Vegas surprised her with his sense of humor in response to the pickup lines. Troy seemed less than amused, warning her away from the men. As if she was about to get swept off her feet by: “Hey, girl. This is your lucky day.”
She camouflaged her lips with her hand. “I’ve done this before, Troy.”
“Been picked up in bars?”
Vegas jumped in. “She means been hit on in bars.”
Charlie coughed out a laugh before he obviously switched off his mic.
“That’s what I meant,” she confirmed.
“You go into bars alone?” asked Troy.
“Sure.”
“Dressed like that?”
“It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.”
“Guys are easy,” said Vegas.
“Guys are hound dogs,” said Troy.
“Nice to hear one of you admit it,” said Mila.
“Your two o’clock,” said Vegas, his tone turning serious.
She glanced toward the front door, confirming blazer guy’s location before letting her gaze move onward, pretending to scan for the restroom.
“That’s him,” she said. “How long until Kassidy comes out?”
“Ten minutes,” said Troy.
Mila watched while the blazer guy made his way to the bar. He spoke to the bartender, who poured him an ice water.
“Going in,” she muttered.
“Go get ’im,” said Charlie.
“Enough commentary,” said Troy, his tone clipped.
Mila wanted to tell him to lighten up, but she was pretty sure that would only make matters worse.
She sidled her way up to the bar, setting down her clutch purse and leaning forward. She didn’t have a lot of cleavage, but by strategically placing her arms and letting the V neck of the sweater gape, she made the most of what she had.
The bartender was there in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, blazer guy barely glanced her way.
“Get you something?” asked the bartender.
“Neapolitan martini.”
“Vodka?”
“Yes.”
“Preference on the brand?”
“Give me your best.”
“You got it.” The man smiled as he withdrew.
Mila turned her attention to the blazer guy, staring openly at his profile, waiting for him to turn her way.
He slanted her a glance but didn’t turn, instead taking a sip of his ice water.
She slipped onto the bar stool, watching the bartender work and toying with a cardboard coaster.
“Eight minutes,” said Troy.
“I don’t think that’s helpful,” said Vegas.
“Ask him about his jacket,” offered Charlie. “The designer or whatever.”
Mila inwardly rolled her eyes. She moved her elbow and knocked her purse to the ground. It landed with a clatter, the contents spilling out.
That got his attention.
“My phone,” she cried, clambering down, pretending to stumble and leaning into him.
He quickly grasped her arms, steadying her.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “It’s these heels.”