Chapter 16
MAX
I find Cassidy exactly where I thought she’d be after hearing the girls were taste testing the menu items for the upcoming seventies party. As I approach, I locate her near the bar, half-listening to Candice and Fern debate something involving fondue.
I’m more nervous than I’m accustomed. The memory of the look on her face when I snapped at her last night has haunted me. What if I can’t convey my genuine regret?
There’s no way around it. I need to come clean with her about the sensitive nature of my work. As many times as I’ve rehearsed it in my head, I still don’t know how to fully explain without telling her too much about my illegal endeavors.
The part of my agitation related to my attraction to her… well, that will stay buried. Because I need to squash whatever the hell this is before things get any more complicated.
Standing behind her, I clear my throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I have a word, Cassidy?”
She turns, surprise flickering across her face before she schools it into something lifeless. Her features become stiff and guarded.
“Can we… talk?” I stammer. “Somewhere private?”
Her eyes follow my finger as I point to the stairs. The second floor. Hell, I hope she doesn’t think I mean the private rooms higher up. I only wanted to take her to the quiet lounge.
Cassidy checks her watch. “Okay. I’ve got a few minutes before my shift officially starts.”
Relief hits me harder than it should. I extend an arm, instinctively guiding her toward the stairs.
As she climbs, my hand finds the small of her back.
Yet, with barely a touch, the electricity crackling between us nearly knocks the breath from my lungs.
Whatever I’m feeling from her is electric.
That’s the only word for it. I pull my hand away.
It’s like I’ve touched a live wire and run my hand through my hair.
We settle into a quiet corner of the Devil’s Playground overlook, far enough from the pulse of the music to hear each other speak, but close enough to feel it thrum beneath our feet.
This area mimics the VIP section of the main floor.
The seating is indulgent with buttery-soft leather chairs, low and wide, that invite you to sink in, relax, and enjoy yourself.
They’re positioned around small, glossy oval cocktail tables that reflect the ambient light in muted golds and silvers.
The polished stone, brushed metal, and smoked glass surfaces throughout the space gleam without being overly flashy.
It’s the sort of place where people speak in measured tones and sign contracts worth millions.
Cassidy’s gaze bounces around the floor, seeming to take it in from a different perspective.
I watch as she leans to one side to view the activity down below through the second-floor balustrade.
The railing on this level is enclosed by modern half-walls of glass.
Seamless panels curve around the perimeter like a transparent nest. From this vantage point, the entire club unfolds below us.
You can take in the stage, the dance floor, and the slow tide of bodies moving between bars and small groups of seating.
It’s designed for observation without participation.
And for those who want to meet colleagues in a more muted atmosphere while not being completely removed from the energy of the main floor.
I can picture the many deals being made here. Handshakes sealed over crystal tumblers. Smiles that are as fake as a used car salesman’s.
Above us, ornate chandeliers spill warm light upon us, their crystals refracting into soft prisms that shimmer across the walls. Between them, elegant sconces line the perimeter, casting a gentle glow. Everything has been curated to feel extravagant.
And yet… I don’t belong up here. I prefer the more casual comfort of the main floor. Unless I need the quieter atmosphere for a more serious conversation.
Like this one.
A tall brunette I recognize saunters over with a silver tray carrying a crystal tumbler of scotch and a glass of water.
I can’t recall her name, but am fairly certain she’s worked at DPG for as long as I’ve been a member here.
The cocktail servers on the upper floors move differently.
They’re more composed than the ones tending to the main level.
She elegantly dips low enough to deposit the drinks on the table beside us. “Good evening, Mr. Wilde. Cassidy,” she greets coolly. Her reception appears to catch Cassidy off guard. Her shoulders draw up, and her gaze ping pongs about the room warily.
I try to reassure her. “I can let you get back to work if speaking with me is making you uncomfortable.”
“No. It’s okay. I don’t come to the upper floors very often. Wouldn’t want the gossip mill to start after the girls spot me up here with you.”
Many of the servers on the upper floors have been promoted.
They’re veterans of the chaos below who’ve been refined into something more polished.
These women know the members by name, know their drink preferences by heart.
They understand when to linger and when to disappear.
I can’t imagine they’d risk their jobs by resorting to such gossip.
Then again, they’re still human. I’m sure there’s always one troublemaker in every crowd.
Regardless, it seems to me Cassidy still belongs downstairs, where things are louder and less calculated. And not simply because that’s where I prefer to spend my time. I can’t help but hope she never makes it past the second floor.
“I owe you an apology,” I start. “For last night. I was out of line.”
Her brows knit together. “You don’t have to—”
“I do,” I interrupt gently. “You caught me off guard. And instead of handling that like a professional, I snapped.”
She studies me, remaining silent.
The truth swells within my chest, needing to get out. I lower my voice. “The work I do when I’m here isn’t part of Secure Sphere.”
Her head tilts. “I don’t understand.”
“These are pro bono cases I accept on occasion. Some from people who can’t afford help any other way. Others who can afford the help, but haven’t gotten answers through the usual channels.”
“Through the police, you mean?” her tone sounds clipped. Almost defensive.
“Yes, sometimes. Some have hired private investigators without any resolution to their problem. And other clients have contacted me who know they’re crossing into unconventional territory yet don’t see any other viable option.”
Her face pales slightly.
“These cases are sensitive,” I reiterate. “And risky. If I’m discovered by the subjects I’m investigating, it doesn’t just affect me. It affects every individual connected to me.”
She shifts in her seat, keeping her tone low. “If you’re using unconventional means to investigate… what happens if law enforcement catches wind of it?”
I swallow hard, deciding to go all in. “Not sure. I consider each call that comes my way on a case-by-case basis. For the ones I take on, it doesn’t even feel like an option.
It’s a necessity.” I pause, hoping she understands the seriousness of the matter.
“It’s a risk I feel is worth taking. I’m not, however, willing to put anyone else in harm’s way.
I need to keep a fine line between this and Secure Sphere, my employees, and my family. ”
I catch sight of Anthony walking away from one of his men and do a double take.
This conversation is clearly making me jumpy.
Security is hidden everywhere here. Men in dark suits stand in shadowed corners, so still they almost blend into the architecture.
Each wears a discreet mic in one ear, fingers occasionally brushing their cuffs or lapels in quiet communication.
Nothing about them is aggressive. They’re a silent reminder that nothing truly escapes notice in Gianni’s club.
Her voice, softer now, brings me back to our conversation. “Knowing the risks involved, you still do it?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate. “Because most of them are desperate. And I don’t want to be another door slammed in their face.” I know this feeling better than anyone. But this is not something I’m sharing with her.
She shifts closer in her chair, not even realizing she’s done it. The movement eases something in my neck and shoulders I hadn’t realized was wound so tight.
“This is why I work here, at DPG,” I add. “Gianni’s security is unmatched. It keeps these projects separate from my company. Protects my people. And my clients.”
She nods slowly, absorbing everything.
“I’m sorry I became so testy with you last night. I wasn’t prepared for your questions.” I run my palm down my face. “No one here has been able to relate to what I do except Gianni and Anthony. And even they wouldn’t appreciate the complexities like you probably can.”
A timid smile curls the corner of her mouth.
“I can’t share details,” I say. “Especially not with you.”
Her gaze drops to her hands, looking a bit defeated.
“I won’t put you in danger.” I lean forward without thinking. “This isn’t about your ability. I have no idea what you’re capable of. But if you’re as skilled as you say…”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine.
“I’d happily let you take over the phone forensics,” I admit.
“It’s my least favorite thing to sort through.
It’s monotonous. I waste too much time staring at all of the repetitive numbers, reading the same lines of code over and over.
” Then I detach, and my mind wanders to things unrelated to my task.
Places I need to keep locked shut. But again, this isn’t intel I’m prepared to share with her. Now or ever.
She laughs softly. A happy tinkle of understanding, which is like a salve to my tense soul. “I could lose hours fixated on that stuff,” she says. “It’s like my own version of Sudoku. Or a Rubik’s Cube. Everything connects if you stare long enough.”
Shaking my head, I let out a chuckle at our shared geek speak. “The dark web is that way for me. I get lost there. The chatter rooms start my gears turning. I become so caught up in it, the only things that give me pause are my bladder and my alarm clock.”
Cassidy flashes another beautiful grin in my direction. It brings a calm I can’t put into words.
“Please know, if there’s a way to see what you can do without compromising your safety, I’d seriously consider it,” I add with a half-smile. “You’d be saving me from the most mind-numbing part of my job.” I wink before I can stop myself.
She blushes, a warm pink staining her cheeks before her lashes lower. My mind immediately goes to places it shouldn’t. All the other ways I’d like to make her blush. One thing is crystal clear.
This may be more dangerous than anything we’re working on.