Chapter 6

The jazz had died down to a low, humming drone, barely audible over the thrum of blood in my ears, but the city skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling glass remained sharp and glittering, a sprawling grid of electric gold and neon blue that felt distant, like a world I wasn’t part of anymore. We had escaped the main ballroom, shedding the pretense of polite conversation and clinking champagne flutes for the semi-darkness of the private back room. It was a velvet-cushioned nook, secluded behind heavy drapes, where the air smelled of expensive leather, stale tobacco, and the metallic tang of anticipation. I sat on the edge of a low, plush sofa, my spine pressed against the softness, waiting. He stood there, tall and imposing, his tuxedo jacket discarded, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal the strong forearms that had pinned me here earlier. His tie was loose, a question mark of desire hanging from his collar. He looked at me with that heavy, predatory gaze that made my knees weak before he even touched me. I was wearing a silk slip dress that had ridden up my thighs, leaving me exposed and vulnerable, a baby girl in a grown woman’s world.