Thankfully they’re too tipsy to have noticed I was the fresh fruit in the center of a double-layered cake moments before that, and as Dax, Scott, and a few others slip up beside us, the entire interaction is forgotten.

I dance with Scott for several more songs, and when his hands fall to my hips, my eyes close. Suddenly, it’s not Scott’s hands on me at all, but larger, rougher ones.

Or so my mind plays tricks.

It also convinces me not to spoil the sight until everyone decides they’re ready to eat, and the time comes to leave.

We head straight out of the building, stumbling along the sidewalk and toward Cali’s driver’s car.

A loud revved engine demands attention, and several of us search the late-night fog.

Jules and Amy push me aside to slide in, the others following, but I stand there, gripping the edge of the door, the man waiting to shut it inching it closer in hopes that I’ll soon climb inside.

Since my vision fails me, I join them in the back, and not two minutes down the one-way street, we’re walking barefoot up the iron spiral walkway that leads to the entrance of Ocean’s Pasa, a restaurant on the coastline that stayed open strictly for our service tonight.

The guys head straight for the private, dome-encased balcony and drop into our seats right as the chef comes out to say her hellos, but we girls hang back outside a moment longer.

They’re perched and ready for a full-on photo op, duck lips, ass pops and all, as they prepare to bribe the busboy to be their cameraman, but I offer to be the one behind the lens instead. Of course, no one protests.

I snap a few shots, quickly passing back their phones and they slip inside, Cali’s hand grabbing mine to tow me along, but once again, the roar of an engine purrs my name.

I pull free, glancing down the street, and this time, I find its culprit.

A sleek little sports car, matte black in color, rolls by me.

Tucked behind the wheel is Arsen, Beretta in the passenger seat, and when I look into the back, Ransom.

Ransom by his lonesome.

It’s dark, but I swear all three sets of eyes flick up, finding mine through the darkness.

“Jameson, come on!” Cali calls.

I cut a quick glance her way, and when I look back to the street, it’s empty.

With a low rasped laugh, I let go of the railing and make my way inside. Scott pulls the chair at his side out for me, so I round the table and lower myself into it.

He leans forward, grabbing the drink he must have ordered for me, and places it in my hand.