Somehow, I forced myself to saunter back the way I’d come instead of running like I really wanted to. I didn’t know what bothered me more. The fact Mab Monroe had considered taking me up on my fake offer to fuck her or the fact I’d left the Fire elemental in her own bathroom with a dead body in the tub. Either way, things were starting to get out of hand. I needed to get Tobias Dawson alone—now—or get out. Saving my own skin tonight—and Finn’s and Roslyn’s—came first. Even before the job I’d promised to do for Warren Fox.

I’d just rounded the corner that led back to the main hallway when someone moved in the shadows off to my left. I palmed one of my knives.

“That was quite a performance you put on back there in the bathroom,” a male voice murmured. “Very entertaining.”

Owen Grayson stepped out of the shadows. Like every other man on the premises, he wore a tuxedo. Once again, I was struck by how compact, sturdy, and strong his frame was. Almost dwarven, except for his six-foot-one height.

His violet eyes glittered in the low light, even as his blueblack hair disappeared into the shadows. The white slash of a scar under his lips offset the crooked quirk of his nose, adding that much more character to his chiseled features.

First Jake McAllister, then Mab Monroe, and now Owen Grayson. Terrific.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” I tightened my grip on my knife.

Instead of answering me, Owen Grayson’s eyes trailed down my body, one slow inch at a time. Breasts, stomach, thighs, legs. He took it all in. A smile spread across his face.

“You know, Ms. Blanco,” he said, purposefully using my name. “The dress is lovely, but I think I like the apron and jeans better. Seems more like the real you.”

Fuck. Despite the blond wig, Owen Grayson had recognized me. Even worse, he’d somehow heard me proposition Mab Monroe in the bathroom. I wondered if he’d seen me with Jake McAllister as well—and realized the other man had never come out of the room.

“And what would you know about the real me?” I asked in a soft tone.

Owen’s smile deepened. “I know you have a silverstone knife in your hand right now.”

There was no way he could have seen me palm the knife. So how did he know I even had one? I stared at him closer and realized the reason his violet eyes were so bright was because they were glowing—with magic. A faint trace, barely noticeable, but I felt it. A cool caress, not unlike my own Stone magic. Which could only mean one thing.

“You have an elemental talent for metal.”

“Guilty as charged, I’m afraid,” Owen said. “It’s a small skill.”