Friday night brought Nocturne's most glamorous crowd. Celebrities seeking privacy, hedge fund managers celebrating closings, power brokers conducting business away from prying eyes. The music pulsed slightly louder, the lighting dimmed a shade darker, creating an atmosphere of exclusive intimacy.

  Tatiana had been on shift for two hours.

  She noticed the shift in energy immediately, the subtle immediate way the security personnel straightened to attention and the subtle nods coming from staff. She knew that could only mean one thing, that Massimiliano had arrived.

  But tonight, he wasn’t.

  The woman on his arm was stunning—perfect skin, tall, willowy, with long blonde hair and a dress that cost more than most people's monthly rent. She moved with the grace of a model, perfectly matching Massimiliano's confident stride.

  Tatiana maintained her neutral expression as they made their way to his usual booth, his hand possessively placed at the small of the woman's back.

  She had prepared for this eventuality, of course he had women.

  Men like Massimiliano always have women circling him. He collected beautiful things like other people collected art.

  It shouldn't bother her. It didn't bother her.

  Until it did.

  The waitress approached their table immediately, but Massimiliano raised his hand in a casual gesture that sent her away. Instead, his eyes found Tatiana's across the bar. He made a subtle gesture with his hand.

  A summons.

  She took her time reaching for his whiskey and two glasses. This time she had reached for the Macallan instead of the Yamazaki. The choice was strategic, a subtle power play masked as professionalism.

  His usual Yamazaki whiskey was rare and exclusive, and meant to be savoured. But the Macallan, especially the standard bottle, was more suited as staple luxury for everyday consumption.

  If he’s going to bring an ornament to his table, then he would be served a drink to match. Nothing special. Just another basic expensive thing to put on display, she thought.

  "Mr. De Luca." She placed the glasses down, beginning to pour. "Your usual."

  "Thank you, Tatiana." He emphasized her name slightly, noting her choice of whiskey for the night. "This is Sophia."

  The blonde woman’s eyes scanned her from top to bottom before offering a perfectly manicured hand, and a fake smile. "Charmed."

  "Likewise." Tatiana completed the social ritual, pretending to be unbothered. "Can I get you something else? Perhaps champagne?"

  "Darling?" Sophia turned to Massimiliano, trailing fingertips along his jaw in a gesture of intimate possession. "Champagne sounds divine."

  "Bring the Krug," he instructed, eyes never leaving Tatiana's face. "The 2008 vintage."

  "Right away." She turned to leave, feeling his gaze follow her retreating form.

  Her hand tightened around the whiskey bottle, fingers pressing into the glass as she tried to calm herself down.

  He had kissed her at the club the last night, had shown mild interest. And now he’s parading his companion for the night in front of her. What exactly is his game?

  He’s testing me, she thought.

  As soon as she felt her anger surfacing through, she reminded herself, He kissed you because he wanted you to let your guards down, don't be stupid, Tatiana. Focus on the mission.

  Throughout the next hour, Tatiana maintained her professional facade while being acutely aware of the display unfolding in his corner booth. From her periphery she saw Sophia draping herself around Massimiliano like a living accessory.

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  Her movements were intentionally exaggerated, as if to make a statement—touching his arm when speaking, leaning unnecessarily close, laughing a tad bit way too hard at his comments.

  She was seductive. Alluring. Highly irritating.

  Tatiana continued to discreetly observe as he reciprocated her gestures with casual possessiveness. His hand rested on her thigh while another occasionally brushing hair from her face.

  And if that wasn’t enough he would sometimes press closer to her ear whispering comments that made her giggle.

  Dog, she thought.

  Suddenly she saw Massimiliano leaned in closer to Sophia as his lips closing in on her with a deep lingering kiss that belonged more in a bedroom rather than a public venue.

  Distracted by the scene in front of her, Tatiana accidentally dropped the cocktail shaker that she had been holding, the metallic clang momentarily drawing attention throughout the bar.

  "Slippery tonight?" Franco appeared beside her, brow raised in amusement.

  "Sorry." She retrieved the shaker, grateful that the contents hadn't spilled. "Distracted."

  Franco's eyes followed her previous line of sight, understanding dawning in his expression. "Ah. The boss and his...entertainment."

  "Not my business," she said firmly, more to herself than to Franco.

  "Sophia. She's his favorite of the current rotation." Franco shrugged, arranging glasses on a tray.

  "Rotation?" The word escaped before she could stop it.

  "You know how these men are." Franco lowered his voice conspiratorially. "He keeps a few beautiful women on call. Sophia's been around longest, almost six months now. That's practically marriage in Massimiliano's world."

  The information shouldn't matter. Shouldn't register as anything more than intelligence on a target. And yet, Tatiana felt uneasy knot in her stomach.

  Disgusting pig, she thought, channeling her unexpected feeling into disgust.

  "He rarely brings them here, though," Franco continued, oblivious to her internal struggle. "Nocturne is usually his business space, not his playground. Must be making some kind of point."

  A point indeed, Tatiana thought, catching Massimiliano's gaze across the room. The subtle smirk playing at the corner of his mouth confirmed her suspicion, this was a test.

  A provocation.

  When Sophia excused herself to the restroom, Massimiliano approached the bar directly. He leaned against the polished surface with casual elegance, watching Tatiana mix a drinkl for another patron.

  "Another whiskey?" she asked without looking up.

  "Please." He studied her face, searching for reactions. "You seem tense tonight."

  "Busy night." She reached for his Macallan, her movements slightly sharper than usual. "Your date seems lovely." She said before she could stop herself.

  "Sophia? Yeah, she's quite... accommodating." He said as he tilted his head at the insinuation.

  "I'm sure she is." Tatiana placed his drink before him with enough force to splash a drop onto the bar. "Enjoy."

  His eyebrows rose at her behavior. There it is. The first genuine crack in her professional facade. "Problem?"

  Massimiliano wanted to see her break. Just once. Tatiana always appeared too controlled, but when he kissed her last night she hadn’t pulled away immediately.

  That intrigued him more. If she wasn’t affected by him, if he was just another body in the room, then it shouldn’t matter if he touched someone else.

  It shouldn’t matter if he kissed Sophia in plain view.

  But yet, here she is…seething.

  "None whatsoever." She wiped the spilled whiskey with unnecessary vigor. "Your personal life is none of my business, Mr. De Luca."

  "And yet you seem bothered." A slow smile spread across his face. "I wonder why."

  The provocation was so obvious it bordered on insulting.

  "The only thing bothering me is the inappropriate public display in my workspace." She met his gaze directly. "Some of us are trying to maintain professional standards." The last two words came out in a choke, as she barely believed them herself.

  "Professional standards." He repeated the words slowly, amusement dancing in his eyes. "From the woman who jumped out of my moving car."

  "That was different."

  "Was it?" He leaned closer, his voice dropped low and seductive. "Or are you simply upset that my attention is elsewhere tonight?"

  The accusation. It was so accurate, it stung so much that it pushed her into genuine irritation. "Your attention can go wherever you want it to go. Preferably far away from my station."

  Instead of offended, her response seemed to delight him. His smile widened.

  "There she is." He spoke softly, almost to himself. "The real woman behind the mask. I was beginning to think she didn't exist."

  Just as Tatiana opened her mouth to respond, his hand shot across the bar. His fingers curling around her wrist in a gentle but firm grip.

  She furrowed her brows, suspicion flickering in her eyes as she wondered what move he’d make next.