Chapter 3

The bass note from the upright piano in the corner of the speakeasy vibrated through the floorboards, traveling up through the soles of my heels and settling deep in my chest. It was a low, rhythmic thrum, mimicking the frantic, syncopated beat of my own heart. I sat perched on the edge of the plush, crimson velvet booth, the fabric cool and soft against the back of my thighs, but the heat in my cheeks had nothing to do with the dim, amber lighting. The air here was thick, heavy with the scent of aged whiskey, expensive tobacco, and the faint, cloying sweetness of vanilla perfume that seemed to cling to every surface. I had come to this event expecting conversation, a few rounds of champagne, and the polite, detached exchange of pleadies with the elite crowd that populated these hidden rooms beneath the city streets. I hadn’t expected *him*. And I certainly hadn’t expected the way the air changed the moment he slid into the booth opposite me, his long legs folding neatly, his eyes locking onto mine with a possessive gravity that made my knees weak. For the last hour, we had been dancing around the subject of