I flicked a sideways glance at Drio, busy flirting with some woman on the fringe of the group. The flash of wariness as he met my eyes for an instant clarified nothing.

“I’ll take you, Poppy, if Rohan doesn’t want you.” Samson grinned at her. Her answering smile was faint.

I wasn’t sure if I was more insulted on her behalf or mine.

“Here’s to women,” Rohan toasted. “May they ever flow.” He held up his empty glass at a passing server, who replaced it with a full one like he had orders to keep ’em coming. “So, Lolita meeting your needs?”

Meeting his needs? I was hard-pressed not to laugh. Or punch him. I lay a hand on Samson’s shoulder. “It’s mutual satisfaction.”

Samson covered my hand with his. “I foresee a very beneficial professional relationship with her.”

Rohan snorted. “Professional, right. Like me and Evelyn.”

Samson tensed at her name. Why was Rohan implying he’d had a relationship with Samson’s former make-up artist? Why admit to any connection at all with the demon?

I took a gin and tonic from a server circulating with a tray, searching for any sign that the others at this table sensed the same undercurrent of danger at whatever was playing out, but everyone else was oblivious.

Except Drio, who edged closer to Rohan.

Samson lowered his cigar. “Didn’t realize you knew her.”

Rohan blinked at that. “Really?” He scratched his chin. “I thought she was another one of your gifts.” He slung an arm around Poppy’s waist.

Samson’s fingers picked at the golden band on his cigar. “Did you now?”

Poppy tucked herself into Rohan’s side. She either didn’t know or didn’t care that she’d been pushed into his path in the first place.

“Guess Evelyn just wanted me for me.” Rohan held up his glass in cheers before drinking. Five other guys laughed along with him like Rohan was the greatest wit in the world.

“Logan sure thought she came pretty willingly,” Drio said.

Samson glared across the room at his buddy smoking a cigar, but he shut that expression down in a blink, back to his easy grin. This was why he hated Rohan. Logan must have seen Evelyn leave with Drio and assumed the minion was there at his rock star overlord’s bidding. I wondered how fast he’d gone running back to Samson with the gossip.

Samson exhaled, blowing smoke directly toward Rohan. “Or you were just the next in a very long line up.”

Rohan played with the lighter, making it dance over his knuckles. “The next and best. Then again, she has talents worth keeping her around for.” He put his own lit cigar out with a grimace. “This tastes like ass. Drio, get us another flavor.”

Drio trotted off like an obedient little flunky.

I swirled my ice in my drink, floored that Rohan would imply Evelyn was still with him. Between me, Poppy, and Evelyn, Snowflake had a regular harem going on. Imaginary harem since Evelyn was dead and he hadn’t slept with Poppy. Had he? Before Prague, I would have said with absolute certainty that Rohan wouldn’t risk the mission getting entangled like that, but after this afternoon? I hadn’t anticipated how far Rohan would go for the mission.

Rohan’s fingers drifted up to play with Poppy’s hair.

Or maybe I hadn’t anticipated how far Rohan would go, period. I itched to take the half-drunk glass of water on the table and toss it at him to sober him up.

Samson stubbed out his cigar with a forceful jab, believing Rohan’s prolific sexual activity. “Lolita told me a fascinating piece of trivia.”

The straw bent at the bottom as I jabbed my ice.

“Oh yeah?” Rohan didn’t seem to care too much.

“Apparently she’s lightning girl? You wrote ‘Toccata and Fugue’ about her?”

Rohan’s hand fell away from Poppy’s hair. “She said that, huh?”

Under other circumstances, I’d have relished Poppy’s shocked look, but I was too busy trying to decipher Rohan’s shuttered expression. All the booze I’d had wasn’t helping.

Samson tilted his head. “It’s not true?”

“It’s true,” Rohan said. I made sure not to exhale in relief at his confirmation of my lie. “Why?”

Samson pulled me onto his lap. “She’s signing with me. We’re working on cleaning up her backstory.”

“Really.” Rohan’s eyes hadn’t left my face, but the shutters had dropped, leaving me helpless against the onslaught of a gaze that was too gold. Too blazing.

I slid my arms around Samson’s neck, refusing to duck away from his stare. “Really.”

Drio returned with more cigars. “Sorry ’bout that, man.” He held them out to Rohan, but Snowflake didn’t take them.

Drio jerked his thumb subtly at Samson, his eyes flicking to the bar.

I ran my finger around the rim of Samson’s now-empty drink, then licked it off. “Get me another one?” I said, picking up on Drio’s silent direction. “Whatever you’re drinking.”

Samson squeezed my side before standing up. “Definitely. After all, this is a celebration.”

“Best day I’ve had in a long time,” I purred.

Grinning, hands in pockets, Samson strode away.

“I’d say so,” Poppy gushed at me. “All that time you’ll get to spend with Samson.” Her implied “and not Rohan” wasn’t even subtle. I hoped she was a demon, too.

“I’ll be sure not to forget my old friends,” I said.

Rohan watched Samson go, his expression still annoyingly inscrutable.

“Ro? Cigar?” Drio asked.

Rohan took it, then launched into some anecdote about a tour mishap, using expressive gestures to punctuate the story. Everyone was so busy lapping up his every word that no one noticed Drio slip the stub of Samson’s cigar into his pocket.

Drio winked at me.

All that business about Evelyn had all been a calculated performance, then? But why not tell me? I turned away and headed into the bathroom. As an armchair celebrity enthusiast, I knew that those in closest orbit to a star tended to indulge any and all bad behavior. What amazed me now, witnessing Rohan’s little performance back there was that everyone had taken him seriously. They expected this ridiculous assholery from someone like him and found it acceptable. No wonder Rohan hated who he’d become back in the day.

I couldn’t reconcile this version of him with the man I’d gotten to know. Though I couldn’t reconcile anything I’d seen of him today with that man either, so what did I know?

A couple of women entered the bathroom, chatting in rapid Czech and snapping me out of my reverie. I reapplied my lipstick and got out of there.

Rohan was coming out of the men’s room. The sight of him rocked a fresh wave of anger through me. I planted myself in front of him. “Congratulations, Snowflake. Really became the finest version of yourself back there.”

“I can’t take all the credit, sweetheart. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.” His glittering eyes were at odds with his smirk.

I frowned. That jab was deliberately fired. “Right. Because rock stars are exempt from any personal responsibility.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were your feelings hurt?” He ran his finger along my bare skin between my bandeau and the pencil skirt. This close in, I could smell the alcohol on him. Warm whiskey spice.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You chose your role. Play it.”

I lifted his hand off me. “I have no problem playing it. But you seem to be forgetting where the act stops and respecting your team member begins.”

He looked vaguely uneasy at that. “What about you respecting my personal history, lightning girl?”

Now it was my turn to squirm. “I did what I had to for the mission.”

“Is that all it was?”

“Can’t imagine anything else it would be about.”

The Latin jazz that had been playing smoothed out into a bump and grind bassline under a woman’s voice singing about retribution in six-eight time. My kind of lady. I stepped past Rohan but he blocked my hip with his.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Samson.” To have Brickie take me back to my hotel.

“He’s a demon, sorry, alleged demon, who doesn’t give a shit about you.”

I white-knuckled my clutch. “Like you do?”

“As a rock star? I’m not supposed to. As Rasha?” He turned away, jaw tight, as if annoyed I even had to ask.

What about as a person? “Then show it and don’t play games with your team members.”

He braced a hand on the wall by my head. “I’m not the one playing games.”

“You’ve been playing games since day one. I’m the one constantly trying to keep things clear between us.” I smacked him once in the chest with my clutch.

“This from the girl who has no idea what she wants.”

I blinked at that comment.

“No. Idea.”

The groupie/rock star dynamic was abhorrent enough, yet I dealt with the public humiliation because of the mission. But this? This had gotten personal and I refused to become Rohan’s personal build-up/tear-down culture.

I tapped his heart tattoo. “Should have made it larger. A big blazing emblem of what you so capably embody.”

“Ro-oo.” I grit my teeth as Poppy sidled in under his arm. “Everyone was wondering where you got to.” She didn’t dignify my presence.

I made a show of straightening my skirt and fixing my hair. “Be gentle with him, sugar,” I said. “Poor boy is spent.” Yeah, now she noticed me, eyes darting between Rohan and myself. I leaned into him as if I was going to kiss him. His eyes widened slightly. Right before my lips brushed his, I turned my cheek, pushing past him with a, “Thanks for the ride, baby.”

I swaggered off.

I really thought I’d picked an easy lay. Hot boy. Good sex. Players have fun playing. Instead he’d shot my finely honed plans to hell with prophetic-sounding song lyrics, a connection that gave the finger to our casual hook-up, and game playing at the championship level that had morphed into mutual anger and hurt. To make matters worse, our personal mess was leaching into our professional lives.

I took a moment to compose myself before approaching Samson. Deep in conversation with some couple, he wasn’t ready to leave but didn’t seem to care much one way or the other what I did. Guess I’d served my payback purpose.

Drio offered to cab back to the hotel with me, claiming that five more minutes and he’d unleash his inner psychopath. A level of self-awareness I had no idea he possessed.

I asked the driver to turn up the music, pretending to love the rock ballad playing. Then I lay my head on Drio’s shoulder so I could speak quietly to him. “What was with the cigar?”

“Once we get King’s true name, there’s a ritual we can do to force his demon form. We needed his DNA in prep and tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity to get it.”

“How does the ritual work? Do you take him out right then and there? If we’re right about him?”

“Sì. Once we force his demon form, we use the ritual blade to kill him.”

“What about the production? Won’t they wonder why their lead has gone missing?”

The driver eyed us in the rearview mirror. Drio slung his arm around my shoulder, like a conscientious boyfriend. “Those party photos may prove useful,” Drio said. “We could stage an OD.”

“Without a body?” There’d be nothing left of Samson once we killed him.

“Morrison’s body was never seen,” Drio said. “Not that he was a demon,” he added at my wide-eyed stare. “Just that there’s precedence. Besides, Samson’s death will probably boost the box office when Hard Knock Strife gets released. It’s a shitty film.”

Drio pressed the button to roll down his window, sending a hint of cool air into the stuffy backseat. Passing streetlights sent slivers of light over us.

“Wrap is Tuesday,” he said. “We could wait the three days. Less of a freak out from production than if they still have to shoot. One less item to manage.”

“I can make sure Samson gets trashed at the cast party,” I said. “That could help keep him off guard when we lure him to his doom.”

“You can’t be anywhere near his death.” Drio was dead serious. “Not even a hint of it. The media will be asking enough questions about the mystery women in those photos and we don’t want you caught up in the scandal.”

I opened my mouth to protest but Drio stopped me. “Don’t give Mandelbaum more ammunition.”

Him having my back like this was a huge step forward between us.

The cab pulled up to the hotel. I pulled out my wallet to pay but Drio waved me off, so I got out. “Thank you. For everything.” I shut the door.

Drio immediately rolled down the window. “Rohan had to get drunk tonight. He knew Samson would show up.”

“Part of his performance. Big deal.”

Drio shook his head. “The only way he’d be able to behave like his old self again.”

“Really? Seemed like he fell right into it.” I dropped my eyes under the chastising look Drio shot me.

He was quieter when he spoke this time. Musing. “I think it was also the only way he could pretend he wasn’t attached.”

When I looked up with a harsh laugh, Drio was watching me, his steady green-eyed gaze unnerving. “It’s not attachment.” I fiddled with my clutch. “It’s chemistry and fucked-up power games.”

“He has your back.”

“I know, but that’s not the same.” Not like he meant.

“Okay.” He rolled up the window, capitulating so easily that I knew he was humoring me.