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here.”
    He lifted his chin and polished off the bubbly. “I seem to recall a young Mage parading around in a T-shirt that said…Oh, bollocks. What was it again? It appears to have slipped my… Oh, right!” he said with a snap of his fingers. “As I recall, it said FUCKING CLASSY.”
    “I was young and stupid,” she said, curling against Logan. “Anyhow, I think you’ve crossed the line with that one.”
    Simon pulled at the ends of his shirt, which said GO BALLS DEEP. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked, pointing at the bowling ball.
    She laughed with a throaty chuckle. “I’d like to know what bowling alley you go to.”
    “You should know, love. Care to stroll down memory lane?”
    Logan nailed him to the floor with his volcanic gaze, so Simon held his tongue and looked away. Colossal mistake. He’d just made eye contact with the Ice Queen, and she was heading their way.
    He hopped off the table and raked back his tousled hair. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, averting his attention to the front door. “Who invited the cat?”
    Levi strode up as if he had a bowling ball of his own between his legs. He was as tall as Logan, only heftier. Levi nudged Logan and nodded toward the lobster table. As they turned, Levi looked over his shoulder and winked at Simon.
    Silver folded her arms. “Why do you always act like an ass around Levi? He likes you.”
    “Therein lies the problem.”
    “That’s not what I meant. And it’s not like he puts his hand on your ass or anything. Well…” She turned her head and laughed quietly.
    Simon furrowed his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    She patted his chest and smiled insincerely. “Nothing, Simon. Never mind. Levi’s a nice guy, and you’re always avoiding him. It’s not because he’s gay, is it?”
    “Maybe I think his jeans are a fashion faux pas. Sorry, I need to mix and mingle with the crowd, love. Hannah’s been molesting me with her beady eyes, and I’m beginning to feel violated.”
    He kissed her on the cheek and then weaved his way through the crowd until he lost sight of Hannah.
    “Simon Hunt, you dirty little scallywag.”
    Mid-step, Simon pivoted on his heel and delivered a counterfeit smile to a Mage he hadn’t seen in over a century—one whose German accent had thinned out over the years to the point that Simon could barely hear it. “Boris Dmitry. Last time I saw you, I believe you were swinging from the gallows. Bloody shame the guillotine had gone out of fashion.”
    Boris wrinkled his sharp nose and turned his mouth to the side. He had an inchworm on his upper lip masquerading as a black mustache. Boris hadn’t changed much in the past century, except maybe his underpants. He looked in his late forties, slicked his hair back with pomade, and Simon was willing to bet he still carried around that tacky cigarette case with the naked woman inside.
    “Still the same old prick you always were.”
    Simon patted Boris’s cheek. “And you’re still impotent, I’m sure. Don’t look so surprised, mate. Your fiancée told me everything right before I took her for a pony ride in the stables.”
    When Boris’s jaw tightened, Simon strode off with a contemptuous swagger, heading directly for the porntastic young ladies who were begging for attention. Unfortunately, they weren’t alone. Three men were circling like lions on a hunt. While the bevy of beautiful women had clearly received instructions to please Simon, one of them had turned her attention toward the men, touching them while engaged in conversation.
    Not that Simon cared really. This was all for show. Still, maybe it pricked his pride just a hair not to be the sole recipient of their constant adulation. They were dolled up in magnificent gowns, sexy stockings, and high heels, breasts of all calibers on display, and legs so oiled up that he wanted to lick them.
    “Gentleman,” he said with an air of authority.
    “Private party,” one replied tersely. “I think these