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“No sex,” he stated, and I could barely hear him.

“Why?” I asked, being as quiet as he was. “You got a problem doing it without the roof on?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I have a problem doing it here at all. Imagine how much surveillance there is.”

He’d lost me.

“There’s got to be video surveillance, and audio,” he educated me, more mouthing the words now than anything else. “Any sex we have here is being recorded. That’s why I wanted to do you on the plane or in the car. You think I was ready to go three days without you when I just got you back? I mean, yes, I understand, we’re here to get the bad guy, but … I needed to get laid.”

His words finally sank in.

“Wait, you’re not planning to fuck me until we leave here?”

He smirked at me.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“This is serious, Detective,” he said under his breath. “We’re undercover.”

I so enjoyed being placated.

We spent the day doing random activities like everyone else. There was tennis, which I sucked at, but Aaron had godlike skills on the court; skeet shooting that I should have been able to dust him at, but he was better at firing a rifle; and finally horseback riding that was a complete blowout. I fell off during a canter, and the man of my dreams laughed so hard that tears rolled down his face. It was not romantic in the least, and I never knew that horses pissed and shit while they walked. Lots of delusions shattered all at once.

That evening, we went for drinks in the Red Room, so named because of the color of the walls, the sheer curtains, and the mood lighting. The tables, marble floor, and low couches where everyone reclined were all the same color. It was like Satan’s living room.

Clay Wells was thrilled to see us and sat Aaron at his right. As clothing went, I realized I was overdressed in my jeans and short-sleeved silk shirt. Most of the other people sporting collars had barely anything on.

“What can we get you to drink?”

Aaron got a scotch and water, and I got some bourbon to sip.

“It’s amazing, you know,” Clay said after a few minutes.

“What’s that?” Aaron inquired.

His eyes flicked to me and then back to my man. “How many people requested a scene with Duncan until they learned who he belonged to.”

Aaron’s smile was absolutely sinful. “No one’s stupid enough to touch something of mine.”

“Oh no?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I have hit men on my payroll, after all.”

And that was crap. I knew it was, but Clay Wells didn’t, and neither did anyone else sitting close. They made sure to not even glance my way.

“I’m a billionaire. I make people disappear at will.” He snapped his fingers.

I slid my hand over his thigh because he needed to control his inner alpha. When I leaned sideways to whisper in his ear, he cupped the back of my head.

“Don’t have to go all possessive right here in front of everyone,” I reminded him.

“Yes, I do,” he whispered back.

“We want him to approach me,” I said under my breath.

His growl was evidence that the very idea was not boding well.

“Be good so we can go home.”