Chapter 4

The air in the penthouse game room had grown thick, heavy with the scent of aged whiskey, expensive cigars, and the lingering humidity of a dozen bodies pressed together over four hours of high-stakes play. The initial clamor of the larger group had faded, leaving only the low, rhythmic clinking of ice in crystal glasses and the soft shuffle of cards being stacked. I sat on the plush, velvet-upholstered bench seat that lined the far wall of the private nook, my legs crossed, a half-empty glass of Macallan resting on my knee. The city lights of Manhattan sprawled out behind me through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glittering grid of gold and white that usually fascinated me, but tonight, my focus was entirely consumed by the man sitting across from me. Julian. He looked devastatingly composed, as he always did. His tuxedo jacket was discarded on the back of his chair, revealing a crisp white shirt with the top two buttons undone, the fabric stretching slightly over the broad expanse of his chest. He was watching me. Not with the predatory gaze of a lover seeking conquest, but with the analytical, intense scrutiny of a man assessing a rare find. The