I’ve got a good four inches on Carl. I put my glass on the bar, then lean in, staring him down.

“When I want your opinion on my personal life, I’ll ask.”

Carl lifts both hands in surrender. “Cool, man. It was only a suggestion.”

I straighten my suit jacket, then move through the crowd.

Determined to not let Chloe’s alluring presence and her disdain for mine affect me, I set my sights on Fred, who is sitting across the room at a table alone. A rare moment without Frankie. This evening might not be a waste after all.

As I make my way to Fred, I’m stopped countless times, people I don’t know or do know but forgot their names pull me into conversation. Finally, I make it to his table.

“Fred.” I clap him on the shoulder. “How are you?”

Fred turns, a good-natured smile on his face. “Mr. St. Clair, I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

“Dogs are man’s best friend, right?” Even I can feel the sincerity of the evening’s forced niceties wearing thin.

“Exactly. Take a seat. You need a drink?” He motions for a waiter. With his suit jacket open, I can see the buttons on his dress shirt straining. A walk to the bar would probably do him some good.

“I’m good.” I wave him off. “We didn’t have much time to talk at tennis on Thursday and—”

“That was a good time. Except Chloe getting smacked in the head. How’s she doing?” He looks around. “Is she here?”

“Yes, and she’s fine. The bruise faded quickly.”

I should ask about Frankie, but I don’t want to talk about the ladies. I want to get to the fucking point about the acquisition deal I’m trying to put together.

“Oh, good. I didn’t realize I had that much power behind my back hand.”

“It’s okay. She’s recovered. What I wanted to talk—”

“Is that Chloe dancing?” Fred squints over my shoulder.

“I don’t—” I turn in the direction he’s looking and see that it is Chloe dancing with a guy. He spins her once and she laughs. I don’t want to care. I need to talk to Fred. This is the only chance I’ve had alone with him all week. But, when the man Chloe’s dancing with comes into view, my blood starts to boil.

There are many companies in the pursuit of Voltaire, but the only company, aside from SCM, that could come to the table with a lucrative deal would be Shaw & Graham.

“With Ryan Shaw?” Fred’s eyebrows would be lifted to his hairline if he had one.

I fucking hate the vulnerability of this moment. I shouldn’t have to worry about what Chloe’s doing while I’m talking to Fred. What the fuck is she thinking?