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there to defend it. It was his memory, his work, all that he’d
collectively amounted to, that she held in her hands. She
couldn’t afford to be careless.
Still. She found her hand slowly resuming its movements,
and found her eyes locked to her phone until her alarm went
off, reminding her that she had a workshop in twenty minutes
she had to be prepared for.
Chapter 6
Cassia
The glow of the city’s lights, even far from the Strip,
infiltrated the tinted windows to the backseat of the cab.
Cassia was wrecked by her nerves. She kept clenching and
unclenching her hands. Her palms were damp. A muscle in her
left thigh kept twitching and it made her leg jump up and
down every so slightly. The cab driver, an older man with salt
and pepper hair, never looked back at her.
When Stu called that afternoon and asked if she’d consider
having a woman as a client, she said yes. She didn’t let him
hear how excited she was when she thought about the
mysterious woman who’d sat down and had a drink with her
two nights ago. She’d wondered if it was her long before Stu
had called her back and told her that she’d meet at eleven at a
small hotel lounge off the Strip. Then he’d given her the name.
Adalynn Arnaud.
Cassia hadn’t detected even the slightest bit of a French
accent, but then she realized it was likely her married name.
She was a widow. She’d said that. And she’d shrugged, but
that shrug had been too carefully practiced; it gave away the
pain it was meant to hide.
When the driver pulled up at a beautifully constructed
