What?” Low gaped at Chance. They stood just inside Chance’s apartment staring at each other. Low had come over like they’d planned, but he’d known as soon as he walked through the door to find Chance all dressed up that their plans were about to change.

He just hadn’t expected to hear Chance suggest they go out. To a club.

What club?

Whose club?

Three motherfucking guesses.

“We never go out.”

Good God. They’d discussed that already. “Chance, you know why.”

“Yes, but we can go to a club. Can’t we?” Chance touched his face, which made Low think about Renzo touching his face.

Shit.

“Listen—” Chance stepped closer to him. “I’ve been to Club Ȇxtase a few times. You’ll like it, and if you don’t we can leave. But please…” He was cute when he pouted. Low liked that about him, always have.

They weren’t boyfriends, not really. Low wasn’t sleeping with anybody else, but Chance could if he wanted to. He didn’t know if Chance ever took advantage of that option, and he didn’t care. They didn’t go out on dates. Chance knew the score. He knew Low wasn’t out to his family, and that anything they did would be conducted indoors. Chance had accepted that, except now he was changing the rules.

A week since Low’s run-in with Renzo at the coffee shop. Didn’t feel like it’d been that long, though. He still heard Renzo’s voice in his head.

We are wanting…

Fuck him. “Okay.” He nodded, and when Chance pumped a fist and whooped, Low found himself chuckling. “But I’ll have to go home and change.” He glanced down at his jeans and t-shirt. “I’m not dressed for clubbing.”

An hour later, he was inside Renzo Vega’s club, keeping his head down. The last thing he wanted was to buck up on Renzo on his turf. Chance and his friend—Avery or Emery, something like that. Low didn’t stan’ for the name—went to the bar to get them drinks and Low parked his ass at one of tables surrounding the dance floor.

Why was he even here?

Loud music, people slow grinding on each other, and all he could think of was Renzo touching him. His thumb on Low’s wrist, burning him up. He tugged on his collar with a muttered curse. Coming here was the worst fucking idea.

He looked up, gaze lifting over the dance area to the floor above, he spotted Renzo.

Watching him.

Renzo’s gaze was on Low.

Mudda ass.

He ducked his head and shrank back in his chair, but yeah. It was already too late, wasn’t it? His pulse raced, and Low understood then.

Why he’d come.

He got it.

He’d come for the heat that clawed at his belly. The leap of his heart into his throat when his gaze collided with Renzo’s. He’d come for that. Too late to lie. Too far gone to hide.

Chance and his friend appeared with their drinks, and Low snatched up the beer Chance placed in front of him.

“You okay?” Chance asked at his ear.

Low nodded. “Yeah.” He lifted his voice over the music as a woman dressed in a tight silver dress stopped at their table. One of the club’s servers.

“Hey guys, can you follow me, please?” She smiled at them with the brightest smile.

Low sat up.

Chance frowned. “What? Why?”

“Oh.” She waved a hand at their confusion. “You’re fine, Mr. Vega just wanted to upgrade you to VIP.”

“Oh shit! Really?” Chance grinned at her. His friend immediately jumped to his feet. And Low?

He was damn near throttling the beer bottle in his grip.

“Come on, babe.” Chance gripped Low’s shoulder urging him to his feet.

Low went, grudgingly, looking around for Renzo who was now suspiciously M.IA. Of course. They followed the woman up a flight of stairs to the second level of the club, the entrance blocked by armed security who stepped aside when they approached. She led them to a semi-private booth area and motioned for them to settle in.

“Thank you.” Chance took a seat and tugged Low down beside him.

“My pleasure.” God, it was like she didn’t ever stop smiling. “Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.” Then she disappeared.

Chance and his friend looked at each other and started laughing. Low didn’t see anything funny about the situation, so he gulped his beer and tapped his foot along to Cardi B’s Bodack Yellow.

“Thank you for coming with me.” Chance kissed his cheek and slid his hand into Low’s.

“Of course.” He made himself smile at Chance because honestly, the guy deserved this. A shadow fell over their booth and Low looked away from Chance.

Into Renzo Vega’s smugly smiling face.

Fuck, man. Low picked up Chance’s shot glass and brought it to his lips. Time for the harder stuff.

“Gentlemen.” Renzo addressed all three of them, but his gaze rested on Low who glowered at him over the rim of the shot glass.

He looked different here, in his element. Close fitting dark suit and white shirt—no tie—opened at the throat, one hand in his pocket as he stood there. In this space, Renzo loomed larger. In stature. In presence. Shiny black hair neatly combed away from his angular face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the nose with the small bump on the bridge. On anybody else, the suit he wore would be just that. But on this man, even the clothes he wore seemed to be some kind of armor that appeared custom-made. He was untouchable. Hell, the gray hair at his temples gave him an edge he didn’t even fucking need.

The sight of him tugged at Low, twisting up his insides with heat and guilt and shit he couldn’t deal with right now.

“Mr. Vega.” Avery/Emery shot to his feet. The skinny blond regarded Renzo with wide blue eyes, pink lips all wet and swollen.

Low bit back a scowl.

“Thank you for upgrading our table,” Chance said.

Renzo ignored them both. “Low. Good to see you again.”

Low narrowed his gaze. He knew what he was doing, watching Low with all that smug promise in his eyes, saying his name the way he did. Making it sound like more. Like Low’s name held secrets.

“You know him?” Chance nudged Low.

“Oh, yes.” Renzo sank into the empty fourth chair at the table, mocking eyes daring Low to look away. “Low and I…know each other.”

Jesus. That pause, Low fucking tasted it. He couldn’t have been the only one who heard what Renzo didn’t say. That son of a bitch.

The table went silent, and Low struggled to fill up the suddenly tense void. “He’s a friend of a friend.” His voice rose above the thrum of the music and myriad voices around them.

“That’s right.” Renzo grinned. “Friend of a friend.” He stood and waved over one of the passing servers. When the young lady came up to him, Renzo told her, “Please treat my guests to whatever they desire tonight.” He turned back to the table. “Tonight’s pleasures are on me.”

Low’s face tightened as the others offered up their thanks.

Renzo waved away their gratitude. “Enjoy.” He strode away and even as Low quietly seethed he couldn’t stop himself from staring at Renzo’s ass.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew Renzo Vega?” Chance asked.

“Yeah, dude. Why?” his friend piped up. “And did you see him, looking like a snack in that suit?” His eyes glowed as he clasped his hands together. “Daddy as fuck, am I right?”

Yeah, no. Low got to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Chance frowned up at him.

“I’m—” He kept his eyes on Renzo’s retreating back as he disappeared into a side door. “I’ll be right back, okay?” He left without waiting for Chance’s response. Not that it mattered. By the time he made his way down the corridor where he’d last seen Renzo, he’d disappeared. He pushed the door open and stopped.

Two huge, burly men stood in an empty corridor with guns and ear pieces. Oh shit. He swallowed. “Uh, I need to see Renzo.” Their blank expressions didn’t change. It was as if they hadn’t even heard him. “Hey,” he spoke louder. “Please tell Renzo I need to see him.”

One of them turned away, giving Low his back as he whispered into his wrist. Shit, Low was all caught up in the feelings Renzo evoked in him, and he was forgetting who the man was. A criminal. He’d forgotten about Kenton. About his aunt’s grief.

“Follow,” the shorter of the two armed men barked.

Low followed them down the empty corridor, onto an elevator that took them to another floor. The men escorted him to a locked door.

“Mr. Vega is waiting for you in there.”