Chapter 2

The champagne flute felt impossibly light in my hand, a delicate shard of crystal that threatened to shatter if I squeezed too hard, though I knew better than to break the illusion of composure I’d curated for the evening. The rooftop of the Meridian Club was bathed in the amber glow of late afternoon, the city skyline sprawling out beneath us like a circuit board of gold and grey, but all I could see was him. Julian. He sat across the low, velvet-upholstered table, his posture relaxed yet commanding, one long leg crossed over the other, the fabric of his charcoal trousers stretching tight over his thigh. He wore a navy suit jacket, unbuttoned, with no tie, the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone to reveal the hollow of his throat. It was a look of casual authority that made my stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with the mimosas. We had moved away from the main crowd as the brunch shifted into late afternoon. The live jazz trio was playing a slow, smoky rendition of *La Vie en Rose*, the saxophone weaving through the air like smoke, but the noise of the