Page 3 of Wild Card
That earns me a flicker of something behind her eyes—respect, maybe. Or amusement. Or both. She shifts her weight, then gives a small nod. “Fine. I’ll meet you there. But if this turns into some posturing nonsense, I’m walking out.”
“I’ll be all business,” I say, hand to chest like I’m swearing an oath. “Scout’s honor.”
She gives me one last long look—like she’s reading between every line I’ve spoken—then turns on her heel and walks away.
And hell if I’m not watching her the entire time.
Her navy-blue suit fits like it was sewn directly onto her body. Sharp, clean lines. Confident stride. She’s all control and power, wrapped in elegance and bite.
But I’ll admit it. As she disappears around the corner, I find myself wondering what she’ll wear tonight. I’m hoping it’s something a little less… boardroom. A little more “off the clock.”
Because if we’re going to be stuck together after hours, I’d rather be distracted in the best way possible.
Of course, I’ll never say that out loud. For now, I’ve got a crime to solve and a conference room to reserve.
CHAPTER
TWO
ARIA
I hate the Jade Petal.
It’s flashy in all the wrong ways—gold-plated door handles, velvet carpets that probably cost more than my car, and that obnoxious cologne-pumped air that screamswe’re trying too hard.Just like Presley.
I tap the elevator button with a little too much force and watch the numbers tick up as I ascend to the top floor. Conference Room B. Eight o’clock sharp. The fact that I’m here—on time, no less—already irritates me. And not just because this entire investigation is a logistical nightmare waiting to happen.
No, it’s him. Presley Dane. Security director for the Jade Petal. Smug. Infuriating. Always so sure of himself. He struts around like the Strip was built just to give him a place to lean on with his arms crossed.
And worse? Today, he looked good.
That suit. The way it hugged his shoulders. The way his tie was just a little loosened, like he didn’t have to try. Like he woke up knowing he’d look better than everyone else in the room. It was annoying. Deeply, offensively annoying.
And now, as I step off the elevator and head toward the conference room, I’m even more annoyed… because I chose thisV-neck shirt. It’s subtle. Classy. Just a little lower than what I usually wear. Not unprofessional. But still—noticeable.
I don’t know why I picked it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do know. Part of me wants to know if he’ll notice. And that part of me deserves to be slapped. I shouldn’t care what Presley thinks. He’s a rival. A cocky, arrogant, polished distraction. We’ve spent years in this cold war of one-ups—outmatching surveillance systems, recruiting away each other’s interns, even competing over who caught the blackjack scammer first.
But today… he was different. Focused. Direct. Like he actually cared about getting the jewels back instead of just showing off. He invited me here like it was a strategy session, not a power play.
And I agreed to it.
What is wrong with me?
I reach the door to the Conference Room and pause. My hand rests on the handle for a beat longer than it should. I square my shoulders. Professional, detached and in control.
He’s already here. Of course he is.
The moment I step into the Conference Room, I see Presley leaning over the table like he owns the place. The entire surface is buried under maps, floor plans, and print-outs covered in red ink. Security schematics snake across the paper like a web. He’s got a marker in one hand, coffee in the other, and that trademark smirk just waiting for me.
“Wow,” I say, dropping my folder on the table. “Didn’t realize I was walking into Mission Impossible.”
He glances up, that lazy grin spreading. “I like to be prepared.”
“Prepared? Or overcompensating?” I circle the table, pretending to study his notes but mostly trying not to notice how annoyingly sharp he looks in rolled-up sleeves.
He taps one of the routes with his marker. “This—” he says, ignoring the jab, “—is the most probable path the thief took between the Citadel and the Jade Petal. Service tunnels, blind spots, maintenance elevators. I’ve traced every viable route within a two-mile radius.”
I raise a brow. “And how many hours did it take you to draw all this, Detective Dane?”
