I glance up.
It's Audrey Vance.
And she looks like she's been through a war.
Her usually immaculate dark hair is half-fallen out of its bun. Her designer blazer is wrinkled. There's a coffee stain on her white blouse that looks like it's been there since approximately 2 PM. And her shoulders are so tense they're practically touching her ears.
"Oh honey," I say.
"No."
"I didn't even—"
"Whatever you're about to say, the answer is no," Audrey says, but she's already moving toward the private massage suite. "I'm not here. This isn't happening. I'm hallucinating from stress and caffeine deprivation."
I follow her, already mentally shifting into therapist mode.
"How much coffee have you had today?"
"I don't know. Seven? Eight? I stopped counting after the fourth espresso."
"Jesus."
"I know."
She collapses onto the massage table like her strings have been cut, face-down, still wearing her blazer.
I grab a heated blanket and drape it over her, then start working my fingers into the base of her skull.
She groans.
It's a sound of pure suffering.
"Okay," I say. "Talk to me. What happened?"
"I landed a contract," she says into the table. "A big one. Forensic audit for a cryptocurrency holdings firm. Massive portfolio. Completely opaque financial structure. The kind of job that could make my entire career if I pull it off."
"That sounds amazing."
"It would be," Audrey says, "if my client wasn't a literal cryptid."
I pause.
My hands still against her shoulders.
"What?"
"Not literally," she amends quickly. "I mean, probably not literally. But heactslike he's a cryptid. His name is Valerius. He's some kind of reclusive billionaire who made his fortune in crypto and now apparently spends all his time hoarding his money like it's a physical treasure chest he needs to personally guard."
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
"He's refusing to cooperate with standard audit protocols," Audrey continues, her voice getting more frantic. "He won't provide access to his offshore accounts. He won't return my emails. He had his security team physically escort me out of his office building yesterday. And when I tried to reschedule, his assistant told me—and I quote—'Mr. Valerius does not appreciate being questioned about his financial holdings.'"
"Sounds like a charmer," I say dryly.
"He's a nightmare," Audrey groans. "Everyone at the firm warned me about him. They said he has a 'draconic temper.' That he's 'notoriously territorial.' That he treats his financial records like they're state secrets."
I work my thumbs into the knots along her spine.
