“Want to take another walk around now that we have electricity?” I asked, figuring that spending more time with her might reveal more about why she was so secretive. Especially about things as innocuous as cuts on fingers.

“Wow, you really do move fast. Sure,” she said, making her way inside. I hung back, enjoying the view for a second. Without the heels she clearly hated, she had a lot more sway in her hips as she walked. “See, this is why clubs are dark,” she decided when we both moved into the middle of the dance floor. She turned in a circle, nose scrunched up. “It’s kind of bleak.”

“To be fair, it’s filthy,” I said, kicking a random plastic bottle out of my way.

Saff made her way toward the stairs with me a few feet behind.

“Boss,” Gav called.

“Bosses,” I corrected, gesturing up toward Saff.

“Right. Sorry, Miss…”

“Amato,” I supplied.

“Me and my crew are gonna head out. Get the report ready for you. I’ll start ordering supplies. Oh, and the rat guy said he’ll be back tomorrow morning to seal up those couple of entry points he found and catch any rats that might be stuck inside.”

“Sounds good,” I said, giving him a nod. “Thanks for coming in at such short notice.”

“Anytime. Mr. Vale. Miss Amato.” He gave us each an incline of his chin, then headed back out.

Saff said nothing as she turned and made her way back up to the balcony.

“Settling in nicely, I see,” she said, gesturing toward the folding chairs and table.

“We needed somewhere to look over plans. Gav brings ‘em to every project.”

She placed her empty cup down on the table before walking over toward the balcony, resting her hands on the railing.

“Now that I saw the design boards, I can pretty much see it,” she declared.

I put my cup down next to hers and moved up behind her, putting my hands to the outsides of hers. I was close enough to hear the way her breath gasped inward, to feel the way she tensed.

“What do you see?” I asked, stepping closer, my front pressing into her back.

“I…”

“A crowd of people just below?” I asked, leaning down so my lips were close to her ear.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to hold onto the conversation. Even as she melted against me.

“Dancing to the music?” I asked as my hands slid across the railing, over hers, up her arms, over her chest.

“Mmhmm,” she said, leaning her head back against my shoulder, eyes at half-mast.

One of my hands tracked upward, closing around the front of her throat. Not aggressive, just possessive.

The other slid down the center of her stomach, then pressed between her thighs.

A soft whimper escaped her as my fingers rubbed against her through her jeans.

“Do you think anyone would look up, see what I’m doing to you?”