“People are both concerned about affordability, but also a luxury feel. They want enough security. Apparently, there are some concerns about the local organized crime activity—you okay?” I asked as Saff made a strange choking sound.

“Here,” Bastian said, making me jolt. I hadn’t even heard him come in. “Have a drink,” he said, passing Saff a coffee mug.

“Thanks,” Saff mumbled, taking a sip.

“Mr. Vale,” Bastian said, passing me a too-heavy stoneware mug.

“Thanks, Bastian.”

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, giving Saff another of those strange, borderline inappropriate looks.

“No,” Saff croaked. Then, stronger, “No. Thanks. You can go.”

There was another silent conversation between their eyes before Bastian finally excused himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you involved with your assistant?” I asked, point-blank. I had no right to demand to know anything about her private life. And as much as I maybe tried to tell myself it was a professional sort of interest, I knew it was pure fucking jealousy on my part.

Bastian was an attractive guy, but in a completely different way than me. There was something undeniably… hard about him. And it wasn’t even just the tattoos sneaking out of the collar of his shirt, and under the sleeves of his jacket. It was how he carried himself, a look in his eyes.

“What? Involved?” Saff asked, brows furrowing.

“Are you fucking him?” I asked.

“What?” she asked, a half-laugh escaping her. “I mean… how is that any of your business?”

“Because, in this case, your personal entanglements could impact the deal,” I said, dressing up an HR violation in a three-piece suit.

Saff watched me for a long moment, brows pinched, thinking her next words through carefully. “What kind of mental gymnastics did you have to do there to disguise your nosiness as due diligence?”

“If I didn’t ask, I was going to be up all night thinking about it,” I admitted before I could stop myself.

“Why?”

My gaze cut to hers. “You know why.”

I swiped at my tablet screen, knowing I needed to get back to the task at hand before I admitted something I was going to regret.

“I’m not fucking Bass,” Saff admitted, surprising me.

“You two have a strange dynamic I can’t put my finger on.”

“Bass is opinionated and… and arrogant enough to think he’s in charge, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. That said, he does occasionally save me from making an idiot of myself. So I keep him around.”

Once again, there seemed to be just enough truth in her words to have someone less observant take her at face value. But there was a false note in there that I couldn’t help but pick up on.

“I hate that,” she said, distracting me.

“Why?” I asked, glancing down at the image she was pointing at.