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Her smile widened, and she pressed her face against my chest. “I believe you.”

We stayed like that until the lamp burned low and the theater began to wake around us. When she finally got dressed and slipped out of my room, I watched her go and told myself it didn’t matter.

That it was just sex.

That I could walk away anytime.

But I was already lying to myself.

Because I’d felt something when I was inside her. Something that went deeper than pleasure or desire. A connection that scared the hell out of me because it made me want to stay.

And staying meant giving up everything I’d planned.

But I’d made her a promise.

And I meant it.

At least, I thought I did.

Six months later, Evangeline made her offer.

She found me alone in the prop room, counting receipts from the night’s performance. The audience had been larger than usual. Louder and more demanding.

“The theater’s changing,” she said.

I looked up. “I know.”

“Do you know why?”

“Because you’re letting the audience do whatever they want.”

“Because the audience wants permission.” She stepped closer. “They want someone to tell them it’s acceptable to stop pretending they’re civilized. And I’m going to give it to them.”

“How?”

“By making a bargain.” She pulled a folded contract from her coat and set it on the table. “I’m going to offer the theater something it can’t refuse. In return, it’s going to give me everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“What does the theater want?”

“Witnesses. Participants. People who’ll come back again and again because they can’t get what they need anywhere else.” She tapped the contract. “But I need help managing what comes next. Someone I can trust to bring people in and make sure they stay.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re ambitious. Because you’re smart. Because you understand that power doesn’t come from being good.” Her smile widened. “And because you want more than this.”

She wasn’t wrong.

I’d spent months working backstage, watching men in expensive suits pay to see women humiliated on stage, watching performers take their money and pretend it didn’t destroy them. I’d told myself I was different. That I was just passing through. That I’d leave as soon as I’d saved enough.

But I hadn’t left.

Because I wanted what Evangeline was offering.

“What’s the price?” I asked.

“You help me finish the bargain. You give my niece the ring I’m about to give you and make her believe you’re taking her away from here. Then you come to my room and seal the contract with me.” She paused. “The theater needs proof that you’re willing to choose power over love. That’s the final witness.”

“And Zinnia?”