It takes me a moment to realize what Darian is looking at.

In a small alcove that must be the VIP area stands a familiar broad-shouldered figure.

It’s Nero, his face frightening—yet surprisingly sexy—in its fury.

Now I understand.

Darian must’ve just had a vision of the future where Nero rips him a new one—or whatever it is about my boss that scares this grown man so much.

I realize my hands are suddenly empty, but like a deer staring at deadly headlights, I find it hard to wrench my gaze away from Nero’s wrath.

By the time I do look back at my dance partner, he’s not there.

Scanning the dance floor, I fail to find Darian anywhere.

I rub my eyes.

Still no Darian.

How did he disappear so quickly?

Is he using his power to help with this ninja stunt? If he can foresee where I’d look, he can theoretically make sure not to be there in that moment. Of course, that kind of control of his seer abilities would—

I’m distracted when my gaze lands on Nero’s angular face again.

Crap. Harper’s machinations are definitely coloring my perceptions of my boss.

I’ve never wanted to strip in front of Nero and jump his bones so badly. I mean, ever.

Tearing my gaze away, I catch a glimpse of the VIP alcove where Nero came from. There’s a gaggle of modelesque floozies he was clearly sharing that tiny table with.

What a jerk.

I’m not going to jump him now.

What am I saying? I was never going to jump Nero.

Was I?

He gets closer, his expression morphing from angry to concerned.

Aww. Is he worried about me? A warm, melting sensation fills my chest.

Oh no. I frantically think about boogers, then crusty remnants of mascara and that hair-like gunk on used pore strips, but none of those things are gross enough to silence the sudden barrage of X-rated images of Nero that flit though my stupid brain.

Ariel stops humping Gaius long enough to notice Nero approach, and by the time my boss is halfway to my location, Ariel is standing shoulder to shoulder with me.

If she knew what I was just thinking about, she’d want to Purell that shoulder.

“What the hell is Nero doing here?” I ask Ariel, shoving aside all the warm melties. “I had so many more questions for Darian, and he spooked him.”

“Nero owns this club,” Ariel replies over the music. “And your conversation with Darian could’ve been misconstrued as Darian trying to steal you from Nero… as a Mentee.”

Of course. I should’ve freaking guessed Nero owns this place. What doesn’t he own?

This explains the reaction of the bouncer orc when Ariel name-dropped Nero. It also might explain—

Nero gestures with his hand, and the music comes to a screeching halt.

The people around us sense something off and move out of Nero’s way, allowing him to reach me in a couple of a long-legged, predatory strides.

“Sasha.” His deep voice oozes sex appeal—something I’m sure I’ve never noticed before.

Probably because I’ve never had incubus cooties in my system around my boss before.

“Nero.” I try my best not to stutter.

He’s standing within kissing distance.

Scratch that, he’s standing within slapping distance.

Inhaling the air as though he’s sniffing me, he gives me a thorough onceover before capturing my gaze.

The limbal ring in his eyes is extra thick today, and his skintight blue shirt highlights every muscle on his powerful body. The color brings out the blue in his blue-gray eyes, reminding me of a stormy ocean.

He wets his lips.

His clean, woodsy scent hits my nostrils, and I wonder if he, too, is an incubus.

It’s either that, or Harper’s mojo is out of control.

I want to bite those lips, then grab him, push him to the floor, and jump on top.

He leans in.