Chapter 4

The air in the private nook was thick, heavy with the scent of aged whiskey, expensive tobacco, and the lingering musk of a crowd that had finally dispersed. We were buried in the back corner of the speakeasy, a space carved out by high-backed velvet booths upholstered in a deep, bruised purple that seemed to swallow the low, amber light filtering down from the brass fixtures. The jazz band had slowed their tempo, the saxophone player leaning into the microphone with a lazy, sensual croon that vibrated in my chest, but I hadn’t heard a word of it for the last twenty minutes. My entire world had narrowed down to the man sitting across from me, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room, his eyes dark and predatory as they tracked the pulse jumping in my throat. I had spent the evening playing the part of the elegant hostess, smiling politely, accepting drinks, nodding at the right moments. But now, with the last of the guests shuffling out into the cool night air, the mask had slipped. My silk dress, which had felt so constricting during the day, now felt like a second skin, clinging to every