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Layla has moved. Not far, but she's making her way through the crowd with purpose now.

Looking for someone.

Looking for me.

I should leave.

There's a private exit behind the stage, and security could have me in a car before she ever realizes I was here. Myrna and legal can handle the rest. By morning, I'll know what Layla is investigating and exactly how much damage she can do.

Clean.

Efficient.

Smart.

But I don't move. Layla pauses to let a group pass. Her hand smooths down the side of her dress in that nervous gesture I've already noticed.

Then she takes a breath.

Shoulders back.

Chin up.

And that brief vulnerability, that uncertainty, just vanishes.

The woman who replaces it is focused.

Determined.

Ready.

My mouth curves despite myself.

There you are.

Whatever made her uncomfortable a moment ago, she's shoved it aside and gotten back to business.

I understand that. Maybe that's why I can't stop watching her. Or maybe I'm full of shit and I just want another look at those hazel eyes.

Either possibility annoys me.

“Tell me something, Myrna.”

Her expression turns suspicious.

“That sentence never ends well.”

“If someone wants information from you, what's the fastest way to find out how much they already know?”

She goes still.

“No.”

“I haven't said anything.”

“You've got that look.”

“What look?”