Page 80 of The Devil of Downtown

My pulse skitters.

Before I can respond, another message lands.

dane

Don’t make me wait long.

Ugh. He’s impossible.

I hesitate, then type—

me

I’ll be at Vice until late, so if this is for an event, I won’t be much use.

The dots appear again.

dane

I think we can stop pretending this is about events.

I stare at my phone, lost for words. I mean, I’m not clueless; I know what this is, and believe me, I have no fancy ideas that I’m special. Even so, I thought I could handle it.

I’m not so sure anymore.

I lock my phone and drop it into my bag.

I don’t answer—

because I don’t know how much longer I can do this without getting hurt.

By the time I muscle my way onto the subway, my pulse has mostly stopped doing gymnastics over Dane’s last text. Mostly.

The ride is mercifully short, and the November air slaps my face awake as I climb the stairs to street level. I start toward Elsie’s bus stop—and freeze.

Sloane is already there, looking perfectly composed among the cluster of waiting parents, the only one in a tailored coat and heels. She waves a gloved hand at me.

“What on earth? Did the universe glitch?” I say, approaching her. “You don’t leave Dane’s office until the streetlights come on.”

She snorts. “He let me go early to make up for Friday night.”

I blink. “Come again?”

She nods, visibly baffled. “He wants me at his father’s engagement party on Friday. More specifically, he wants me there because the Bexleys will be attending, and he wants someone who can ‘anticipate their needs.’ He actually used that phrase. Twice.”

“The Bexleys are in New York?” I ask.

“For meetings. And apparently, this engagement party is turning into the social equivalent of the Avengers assembling. Anyone with power, money, or a private equity firm seems to be invited.” She leans closer. “Honestly? It’s weird. Dane’s in a good mood. Like... good, good.”

A strange little flutter stirs in my stomach.

It’s not because of you. Don’t be stupid.

Before I can answer, a high, delighted shriek cuts through the air.

“AUNTIE IVY! MOM!”

Elsie barrels toward us, her backpack bouncing, curls flying everywhere. She slams into both of us in a hug that knocks the wind out of me.