“That’s shady.”
“Yes.But currently quite legal.I expect those three will have their meeting, maybe dinner, then they’ll hit the clubs.”
She shoots them one last withering look.“And what about them?”
“A lobbyist.Two senators.”
“So again, a meeting they’d just as well remain out of the public eye.”
“A meeting.A friendship.”I point to the bar where two men are sitting further down from Tommy and the models.“That guy is a film director.And the man he’s speaking to, I can’t remember his exact role, but he’s an executive at one of the movie studios.”
“And they’re here?”
“Could be filming.Might be a premiere.There are many reasons one might be in New York.Hell, the director might live here.”
“And you don’t remember their names?”
“No,” I admit with a sigh.“That’s why I have Eddie.”
“What about that couple?”She points to a candlelit table with an attractive man and a woman.
“They’re both actors.”
“Oh.Who are they?”
“American actors,” I say with a shrug.“The woman’s more reality TV.I’m not sure—but I know they’re actors.Could be a first or second date.Or maybe they’re friends and don’t want to attract rumors.”
“It’s fascinating,” she says.
“Is it?”I ask as a group of men with grey-streaked hair in casual business wear enter.Eddie greets them instantly, leading them to a booth.They work nearby in the financial district, and whatever they do, they’re high enough on the totem pole, or perhaps behind the scenes, that they don’t often wear ties.
Dinner fades into the background hum; the jazz drops an octave, silky, sultry.Around us, conversations blur into white noise—deals being made, secrets being shared, the usual symphony of power and desire that fills The Sanctuary each night.But in this shadowed booth, with Brie’s fingers brushing mine, the rest of the world fades.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I whisper.What I mean: something real.Something not for the case, not for the club—just us.
“Hmm.You first,” she says, but her gaze flits across the room, ever watching.
“You want me to go first?Fine.”I catch her hand, press it flat to my chest.
“Every woman since you has been a pale echo of a weekend I couldn’t forget.”
For the first time tonight, vulnerability flickers across her face—quick as lightning.“That’s…dramatic.”
“Maybe not what you want to hear,” I murmur, leaning closer, the air between us charged with heat and risk.“But I don’t play games.I don’t want misunderstandings.I want more.”She doesn’t pull away—but she doesn’t lean in either.And that hesitation tells me everything.
ChapterEighteen
Brie
Leave.Just go.
Every trained reflex screams for distance, but my body betrays me—heat where there should be adrenaline, his touch pulsing through my blood.
A million tiny pins prick my skin, my chest constricts, and while my eyes burn I can’t seem to break away.It’s fear.Clean, bright, humiliating.
Plain and simple.Only cowards succumb to fear.Fear is information.It isn’t a verdict.(My father’s voice.My training.None of it accounts for the ache.)
What exactly do I fear?Getting close to someone who’s willing to risk something—an investment—for me?Someone who looks at me like he’s willing to climb over any wall I erect?Or worse—someone who’ll wait at the gate until I open it.
