Chapter 4

The air in the corner of the grand hall was thick, heavy with the residual humidity of a hundred bodies that had moved on to other pursuits. The main ballroom was a distant memory now, a blur of fading jazz and clinking glasses, but here, in the shadows of the private nook, the world had narrowed down to just us. I had dragged him back from the lingering crowd, finding him standing near the exit, loosening his tie, that familiar, predatory stillness settling over his frame as he watched the room empty. He hadn’t said a word, just a sharp nod of his head, a silent command to follow, and I had obeyed without hesitation. Now, we were alone. The space was an afterthought, a tucked-away alcove where the carnival game booths had been set up for the evening’s festivities, now abandoned and dim. It smelled of stale popcorn, metallic dust, and the sharp, sweet scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something darker, like aged whiskey. In the center of this cramped, shadowed corner stood a vintage photo booth, a relic from a bygone era, its wooden frame painted a chipped, peeling black that spoke of decades of use. The glass