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“Yeah, it’s…comfortable there,” I said.
“Exactly. Not like this. There’s no place to kick up your boots without worrying you’re staining something. Yuck. Okay, well, have at it.”
“Wait, is there makeup?”
She pointed to the vanity set up on the side. “Whatever you need.”
I walked along the racks, running my hands over every color, every designer imaginable. There was dress after dress in my size. Any style I could imagine was here.
The plan hadn’t been to look good enough to impress anyone. I was going to dress just well enough to get by, maybe be slightly dowdy, but there was no way I could resist some of these dresses.
I slipped on a slinky silver number. It was long, with a slit up the side. Nothing would be displayed, but it followed every curve of my body. After the dress, it was hard not to wear a decent pair of heels, and then I had to accessorize. By the time I realized I’d put in too much effort, it was too late to scale it back.
Connor let out a low whistle as I walked back into the lounge.
Cookie nodded. “Not my style, but you wear it well.”
“She does do that,” Dice said.
Kaden approached from the hall, dressed in a black suit, looking so handsome that it was hard not to stare.
He was silent when he saw me, but his perusal was slow enough to make my skin flush.
He stopped in front of the door beside me, flipping the switch. “For some reason, I was expecting you to be wearing sweatpants when I arrived,”
“You did say it was a cocktail party.” Sweatpants had been a possibility, not that he’d be informed.
He hummed. “You got sucked in by the closet,” he said.
“Maybe.”
The light over the door was green as he opened it. We stepped out onto the bridge, but we weren’t in Florida anymore. The New York City skyline glittered to the right, as Hank, the toll bridge guy, nodded to us.
“How did Hank get here?” After Nowhere, showing up in New York didn’t shock me at all, but how was the same toll guy here? Did he work every bridge? Did he get advanced warning?
“That’s not Hank. That’s Frank.” Kaden opened the passenger door of the Lamborghini parked along the side.
I wondered what these people saw instead of this car that they merged around it, no one blowing their horn.
“They see construction,” Kaden said.
I belatedly realized I’d thought aloud.
“Where are we going?” I asked once we were on our way.
“A party not far from here. There’s a gentleman there that needs some tinkering, and there’s not much time left to do it,” he said. “Some cases are more difficult than others. Not all tinkers are compatible with different subjects. Trying to narrow down if you have a specific niche.”
“I thought my aptitude was spying?”
He looked at me as if to silently ask,Is this how the night is going to go?
I replied with a noncommittal shrug, a silentWe’d see.
Kaden turned off the highway, slowing the car down as my heart started racing. Did I still have a heart? Something was pounding in my chest, even if it didn’t serve a purpose.
Were we really going here? It was clearly a private event.
Kaden pulled the car to the curb, and the valet opened my door.
