My chuckle seems to surprise us both. “You’ve met Danny then.”
“Hard to miss her.”
“I seem to have managed it this evening,” I muse. “Although I can’t complain. Making your acquaintance seems like a more valuable use of my time.”
Cas stares at me for a moment, clearly mulling something over. “You know, she talks a lot about her boyfriend when sheis backstage—the staggeringly handsome Italian billionaire who reserves the VIP table almost every night.”
“Do you agree with her?”
She frowns. “Agree with what?”
“That her ex-boyfriend is staggeringly handsome?” I lean hard on the word “ex” as I speak.
Her tempting mouth drops open, but she’s saved a response by two glasses of whiskey slamming onto the table between us.
“Everything all right here, Cas?” Mia stares at me with murderous intent.
I offer her a shit-eating grin in return. “Miss Cassandra and I were just getting acquainted.”
“I called last orders an hour ago,” she counters.
To her endless list of credits, I add another mark of approval as Cas places a gentle hand on Mia’s arm. “I won’t be too long. Claudio was asking if you had next week’s itinerary yet.”
Finally, Mia looks at her friend. “You call me if you need anything.”
Cas nods, and Mia makes her retreat, shooting daggers over her shoulder at me.
“I’m sorry, Mia can be…protective.” Cas swirls her whiskey around her glass.
“Evidently.”
“She’s right, though. Claudio will want me backstage soon. I won’t be able to stay long.”
I smirk. “I’m sure he’ll make an exception for me.”
She takes a long sip from her glass, and I try not to stare at her throat as she swallows. “I don’t think you understand. He can also be very protective.”
I pretend to weigh this up for a moment. “Well, I suppose that’s the one benefit of owning this place. Everyone here has to do as I say.”
“Mister Moretti?” Her eyes practically bulge from their sockets.
“I see my reputation proceeds me.”
She takes another long drink.
In the silence, something she said catches in the back of my mind. “Tell me, is there a reason my talent manager is so possessive of you?”
Cas doesn’t look me in the eye as she replies. “He…we’re living together.” Then, more firmly, like a dagger to my chest, “He’s my boyfriend.”
Of course, nothing can ever be this easy for someone like me.
I smirk to myself as I circle the rim of my glass with a finger. “He’s a fool, then.”
“Excuse me?”
“For letting you have a drink with a staggeringly handsome Italian billionaire,” I answer simply.
“Mister Moretti…”