Elena blinked at him.

“I…I’m sorry?” She finally managed to squeak. And then, after another pause, her stare sharpened into a glare. “You must be out of your mind.”

That cold smile he’d threatened the other guys with suddenly brightened and widened and melted into something far more impish. Cade moved behind her, sat down on the couch, and spread his arms out over the back as if he owned the place.

“You heard me.”

Her heart pounded in her ears like the music above their heads. Louder, even.

Up until this point, she’d been laughing and joking with her “customers” over where they wanted to be glitzed and glittered, with every one of them happy to stand still while she worked her magic.

This guy, though?

The audacity to practically invite her to climb onto his lap!

Elena cast a subtle glance around to make sure they were still alone. He seemed to know Vic well enough to cover her new friend’s break, and Vic seemed to trust him enough to leave her alone with him.

Did she trust him?

Absolutely not.

Did she trust herself around him?

…Debatable.

Her hand kept stirring the glittery gel in the mixing bowl. She needed to act as if she felt confident and sure about this. Like she was a professional artist just working with another canvas and not at all the broad, naked chest of the man she’d been secretly fantasizing about ever since he vanished.

Because that’s what he was, right? Just another attractive playboy who only cared about himself and whatever illegal crap got him the most money.

“Do you need more space?” His question came out mocking yet gentle, like he knew the effect he had on her. Lord knew she didn’t have an effect on him. Without another word, he simply worked a few more buttons open and pulled his shirt aside.

Elena swallowed back an embarrassing whimper that suddenly formed in her throat.

She didn’t know what it was. Why his chest…those abs…in particular were making her mouth water. He definitely wasn’t the first—or only—man she’d encountered in the past few hours who looked like the gym was a second job with the way each muscle rippled with every tiny movement.

What was up with her tonight? Elena never drooled over men like this. She hardly glanced at a GQ magazine without blushing and quickly looking away.

Plus, she was mad at Cade.

He owed her an explanation.

And several grand.

Time to remind him.

“That’s perfect,” she murmured breathlessly instead. Before she mentally kicked herself. What?! “I mean, yeah, that’s enough space to work with.”

“Good.” He tilted his chin up the tiniest amount and relaxed into the couch. “I’m all yours.”

God, if only.

She moved carefully and slowly with the first stroke of the brush, opting to trace the sinew of his neck from his jawline down to his collar bone. Like so many guys she grew up with who wished they were “gangsta”, his skin was covered with designs that wrapped over his shoulders and gradually creeped up toward his chiseled jaw.

Unlike any of those guys, however, these weren’t roses or nude pinup girls. They weren’t even the stereotypical flames or tigers popular in the streets.

They were something different. Older. A lot like the runes she studied in school—like the ones she painted on his friend just a few moments ago.

Something in the back of her mind reminded her of how they glowed when he expressed a particular burst of fury. When he was beating the daylights out of a man with black eyes who’d attacked her.

Reason and logic, however, made her quickly shake those imaginings off so she could focus on what was real.

“Like the ink?”

Elena blushed. He caught her staring despite her attempts to focus on the glitter. “Yeah.”

Cade smirked. But it wasn’t mocking, which came as a relief. It seemed more like he was unsure of what to say next. She’d wager he’s never unsure of himself. Ever.

“We need to talk,” he blurted.

Four words that drop a large stone deep into the stomach of anyone who hears them. They made her hand waver and the brush dance a little haphazardly over his sternum.

Elena bit the corner of her lip hard enough to keep her from glancing up into his silver eyes. “Do we?” She replied with her own playful smirk.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d say his hands just gripped the back of that couch tighter. “I don’t like how we left it. How we left things.”

“We?” She dragged the brush down over one pectoral. Tried to remind herself via internal chanting to just stay calm, stay cool, don’t let his voice or his…his everything…make her forget he’s not worth giving an ounce of trust to. “As I recall, ‘we’ didn’t do anything. You left.”

The Adam’s apple in his neck bobbed when he swallowed. “That I did.”

She didn’t say anything more. Why even bother? Words existed for people who cared, people who used them to make promises and then keep them. Elena figured words just bounced right off Cade like quarters off his biceps.

Strong hands wrapped themselves around her hips before pulling her firmly onto his lap. She knew she should protest, push herself off, something. This was too familiar. Too intimate.

Too exactly what she wanted him to do.

“Elena.” He tipped her chin up with a finger and made her meet his silvery gaze. “I didn’t leave because I hate you, or anything like that.”

Hurt flashed in the depths of her eyes and reflected in his own. “Then why?”

Cade didn’t answer. He smoothed his hands along her waist and, much to both their surprise, she shifted and melted into him. Like he was mapping her body for his memory, or testing the waters for something they both wanted to happen.

Except she didn’t.

…Right?

Elena sat up straighter, clearing her throat. She didn’t slide off his lap, but his hands braced warmly on her thighs and prevented her from doing so anyway. “Do you want more?”

His mouth quirked into that wicked smirk she hated loving. “Absolutely.”

“I meant—I mean—the glitter,” she stammered, trying to mentally focus on literally anything but the way he anchored her to him.

Or the way those same hands were now rubbing her thighs. Slow, lazy…and like she belonged to him.

He glanced at the bowl in her hand. The brush in the other. Seemed to get a sudden idea. “Let me see that.”

She wasn’t sure if she handed him the brush as much as he plucked it from her fingers, his eyes glancing between hers and her neck. He dipped the brush into the gel, scraped the excess off on the rim like a practiced painter, and used his other hand to gently nudge the collar of her tunic top aside.

He’s not holding me anymore.

This was her cue to leave.

She could just slide off his lap and leave.

“Hold still.” Another order, this time rolling over her like a caress.

She wondered if shivering still counted as “holding still”.

The brush glided down the curve of her neck, cool and soft and surprisingly comforting. He painted a line along her collarbone, on one side and then the other. When her hair got in the way of his design, he lifted his free hand and gently pushed back the thick curtain over her shoulder.

Then wove those fingers into the base of her scalp.

She whimpered.

She actually freaking whimpered.

“That’s my girl,” he breathed. It’s like he knew exactly what he was doing to her—and he wanted it as much as she did. Like he could feel her whole body thrum with a need she didn’t even know she had until this exact moment. “If you’re going to be around us, you need to look like us.”

Elena had no clue what that meant. Not sure if she cared at that point either.

He continued to paint her, adding a few swirls to the tops of her breasts because of course she had to wear the softest, slinkiest top that’s way too easy for someone like him to tug down. The only relief from this heat he stoked within her was the coolness of the gel as it smeared and dried on her skin.

The only thing keeping her from moaning out loud was her sheer determination to not get fired.

From this gig or her whole dang career.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he suddenly said as if he could read her mind. “I can behave.”

She snorted. “You can?”

His smirk warmed against the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Elena wasn’t entirely sure he needed to be that close to add more glitter. “When I want to.”

“Do you want to?”

Cade leaned back just enough to look her in the eyes. To show her the inferno of lust blazing in his. “Not particularly.”

Cade hated social events.

Despised them, really.

He hated the schmoozing. The flouncing. The fake flattery and tittering laughter that grated inside his head worse than nails on an old chalkboard.

Then again, there was nothing a good drink…or several…couldn’t fix.

“I’m holding you to it, Cade.” Seka wagged her finger in his face with all the confidence of someone who knew he wouldn’t chop it off. For now. “Open bars are expensive as hell. If you stick me with the bill—”

“I said I’m covering it, yeah?” He wrapped his hand around hers and lowered that accusatory finger. But he didn’t let go, not while she insisted on zipping around the place in a frenzy. “I already took care of the first half.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You better. Last year’s debacle ended up with me practically having to sell half my house just for the damage, let alone the consumption! Because where were you? Huh?”

Cade refused to acknowledge the heat rising in his face. “I was…preoccupied. With our guests.” A pair of very limber, very eager, and very beautiful guests. “Tonight will go smooth. Stop worrying. A few drinks, a few games, some loud music—everyone will have a great time! You’ll see.”

“There’s a lot I’d rather not see, thank you.”

He chuckled and finally let go of her hand. After all these years, and how many Midsummer Night parties? Seka knew what to expect, and she was “guilty” of participating in more than a few delectable orgies once the liquor hit her system. But at the same time, Cade couldn’t blame her for not wanting to see the naked asses of people they’d both have to negotiate serious business deals with the next morning.

“I left my check with your office, by the way.” He wandered over to one of the art pieces in the room and touched a finger to the sharp tip of a gold leaf suspended from one of the wall lamps. It wasn’t enough to make him bleed, which was somewhat disappointing.

“I heard. Thank you.” She smoothed out her bodycon dress and cleared her throat. Her thick sable hair was finally starting to grow longer out of the shaved faux hawk fade she’d insisted on getting a few months ago; it gave her overall appearance a sexy-yet-intimidating edge she’d need for the night’s festivities. Paired with her perfectly sculpted brows that arched over dangerously glinting amber eyes, Seka Derringer was more hunter than prey in any given situation.

Cade wondered if it was on purpose.

He often wondered if she, like him, refused to revisit The Old Days of being someone else’s victim.

Seka whipped her attention to one of Cade’s personal picks for guards, Vic, who they both spotted waving at her from down the hall. “Looks like our artist is here. I need to go make her comfortable.”

For the briefest of moments, Cade felt his throat close. He managed to clear it before scratching out, “Artist?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged a casual shoulder and focused on something on her phone. Like she was avoiding his gaze. “You know, entertainment. We’re still fundraising for that charity program, after all. I figured it’d be a good idea to hire someone to sweeten the pot.”

“Mhm.” He narrowed his eyes at her, but couldn’t pick out anything betraying that shenanigans were afoot. “Right.”

“Right. So, be good.” Seka tapped her phone screen off and shot him a warning Look over her shoulder as she went to join Vic. “I mean it, Cade. We’ve got a lot riding on this.”

As if she needed to remind him.

Tonight wasn’t just a celebration of seasonal changes and celestial solstice—although that was the origin of the annual shindig—but rather a giant window of opportunity to gather as much blackmail and bargaining material as humanly…and inhumanly…as possible. The guest list Seka confirmed with him a week ago included three district court judges, two city hall clerks, the police commissioner, and a mayoral candidate whose campaign was in desperate need of a financial benefactor.

All humans.

All completely susceptible to—and unaware of—the kind of fae magic that surged and seeped through the pores of all who felt the solstice’s energy shift.

A few innocent drinks were enough to loosen tongues so secrets would spill into the ears and recorders Cade made sure to set up in every corner of building.

A few more drinks, this time laced with drops of essences not found in the Outworld (but heavily bargained for with a bouncer who traveled between realms often enough) ensured that every word that tumbled from intoxicated lips would only be the truth.

Whatever happened after all the alcohol and soul-spilling was entirely up to the human. In Cade’s experience, they almost always wound up in exceptionally compromising positions that required some considerable detangling the next morning. While not the most pleasant to look at, to Seka’s point, this was the most ideal outcome with the more corrupt politicians who delighted in Cade’s generous hospitality. All he had to do was show them a few choice pictures on his phone whenever they started getting difficult, and suddenly they were more than happy to cooperate.

The one hard and non-negotiable rule of all these events was consent.

Cade Devoy forbade the theft of consent on pain of death.

Sure, there were many potions and essences from the Otherworld constantly smuggled into Chicago, and far be it from him to police it. In many ways, he didn’t outright care. But when it came to things that went on inside his house, his establishments specifically, and under his own nose?

No one dared to play that game. He forbade it, and that was that.

“Cade.” One of his “business associates”, Milo, broke him out of his reverie and greeted him with a strong handshake and a clap on his shoulder. “Good of you to be here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Lies. Cade slid his crafty gaze to the fae with the tiniest of smirks. “And I need to empty a few accounts before tax season.”

Milo shook his head with a good-natured sigh. “I keep telling you, you’re wasting your skills in real estate. You should be consulting with financial investors.”

“And make them wealthier than me? Absolutely not.”

Cade nodded to the waiting DJ to go ahead and start playing music. It was seven o’clock on the dot, and he hated delays.

“Drinks are on me tonight.” He returned the shoulder pat with his own. “I don’t want you sober by the time we’re done.”

He grinned at Cade, the golden lamplight glinting on his sharp incisors. “You got it.”

As more people came in through the nondescript front door, the overhead lights began to dim and the spinning disco ball descended from a slot in the ceiling. A few of the guests beelined for the bar once they saw the sign green-lighting unlimited imbibing; others stumbled excitedly onto the dance floor to warm up with their partners.

Cade decided this was the time to become antisocial and assume his favorite chair in his favorite booth in the far corner of the venue. No one would bother him with their questions unless he allowed them to. No one would approach him unless he gave the signal that they were allowed.

He wasn’t going to. He was not in the mood.

His gaze kept flicking to the hallway where a set of stairs led to the lower level.

Stop it.

Chicago was filled with artists from all over the world. Seka most likely hired some down-on-their luck savant just to boost their morale and their wallet; she had a soft spot for things like that.

The chances that she—

No.

He rubbed a hand over his face. Let it go. Get a drink.

Gods knew he needed several drinks in order to stop thinking about her.

He couldn’t afford to think about her tonight. He couldn’t juggle the ache in his chest with the heat surging beneath his skin or the plans in place to secure stronger footing within Chicago’s political infrastructure.

One flick of his fingers was all it took for one of the bartenders to approach his booth with a slight bend at the waist. “What can I get for you, sir?”

“Bourbon. Neat.” He drummed his fingers on the table, feeling increasingly unsettled as time ticked forward. “Make it two.”

“Coming right up, sir.”

Cade suspected he might need a keg of the stuff before the night was through.

The first tumbler of bourbon was enough to ease the itch. The second started to numb the edges of the ache in his heart—no, his chest.

“Another,” he told the waiting barkeep. “And keep them coming.”

“Caedon-waydon, won’t you come dance with me?”

He was drunk, but not that drunk.

“Why don’t you dance for me, babydoll?” He smoothed his hand over her hip as she sidled onto his lap. It was difficult to tell which was stronger, the liquor on her breath or the perfume on her neck.

Whatever-her-name-was giggled and purred and slid her bony ass closer. “Mmmm, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“You know it.”

His playful nip at her nose earned him an annoying peal of laughter. Her playful attempt to kiss him was dodged by a smooth sip of his third…ieth…bourbon. When she tried again, he tucked his arm around her and offered the glass tumbler to her lips.

“Good stuff.” He gave her hip a naughty squeeze and weighed the cost benefits of giving in to her ploy for his more intimate affections. He couldn’t remember her name, but he vaguely remembered she’s a hellcat in bed.

It helped she also somewhat resembled—

Nope. Cade immediately sat up straighter and set the fae woman down on the seat next to him.

“You okay?” She furrowed her brow as she pressed her hand to his chest. “You’re acting all jumpy.”

He scoffed and grabbed for his drink. “The hell are you talking about?”

But she was right, now that he focused on it. About as much as his sloshing brain would allow him to. Just when he finally felt that stupid pressure in his chest fade away completely, Whatsherface had to plop down on his lap and flare it up all over again.

Worse than before.

“Maybe we should hit the dance floor.” Whatever he needed to do to take his mind off things. He nuzzled her neck and added a whisper to his offer. “I’ll show you my moves now…and later.”

She took the bait. Believed the lie. Giggled and led him by the hand to the overcrowded dance floor before she was suddenly swept away by her friends, their suspicious stares darting between the woman and their dangerous host.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t a total lie. All things considered, Cade still had needs and desires and probably would want to get his rocks off after his obligations of the evening were said and done. It’d be the perfect distraction from…other things.

Like the memories of a certain lush-lipped artist he swore he’d never see again.

That was his gift to her. Because damn it all, she managed to make him care.

And caring about anyone meant making sure he kept his tainted life far the fuck away from them.

Cade blinked. He’d been making his way through the dance floor, lost in his thoughts, when the disco and strobe lights started sparkling off the guests. Half of them were covered in glitter. Golds, silvers, fuchsias, some with rainbows shimmering down their arms…the disco ball was starting to look dim compared to Seka’s guest list.

He caught the eye of one of the guards. Noticed the silver streaks sparkling along his jaw. “Not you, too?”

Dan smiled sheepishly and shrugged as Cade approached him. “When in Rome, right? Besides, it’s for a good cause.”

“Please tell me the others—”

The question was both cut off and answered by the guffawing of three of Cade’s other men. Cillian, Eric, and Sid knocked back a round of beers and jostled for their wallets as they shuffled toward the top of the stairs. One of Seka’s assistants negotiated the bidding war; they all laughed and played along until a price was agreed upon, and then they stuffed cash into the lock box without hesitation.

It’s Cade who felt hesitant.

No.

Protective.

…Of what?

“What’s downstairs?” He asked Dan. Something deep down warned him that the correct word was who.

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Elena checked the address in the text again.

No, she did get it right.

But how? Seka said the event was at The Solarium Hotel, 7 p.m. and across the street from Luca’s Coffee. Elena frowned as she glanced across that very street where, sure enough, Luca’s was closing up shop for the day.

The building her navigation app pinged just didn’t look like a hotel.…

Read more

• Tensions build and heat rises after an exhilarating escape

• She starts figuring out…he really, truly, undeniably isn’t…human

The numbers on the pages didn’t mean shit to him, no matter how many times he flipped the leaflet back and forth. “Fine. Do it.”

His Right Hand straightened her shoulders. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. No. Fuck.” Cade ran a hand through his hair and considered pulling it all out. Or using the grip to slam his forehead into the nearest brick wall. “I don’t fucking care. Just do it.”

Seka Derringer pressed her lips together, the only other sign of her disagreement with his decision. The fisted hand on her hip was the first tell. “I told you, you should have sent one of my guys in. Hell, one of yours.”

“And I told you, I don’t delegate personal favors.” He shoved himself away from the table and grabbed his mug for another swig of beer, only to frown when he discovered it’d been replaced by a mug of coffee. “Where’s my porter?”

“Where’s your watch? It’s ten o’clock in the morning!”

Cade considered dumping the lukewarm coffee on her head, but there existed the strong probability she’d just throat punch him with the mug. “Whatever.” He chugged the rest of it and made a mental note to stop by the nearest pub for a shot of whiskey to wash it down. “I have errands to run. Shit to do.” Hearts to shatter.

That coffee wasn’t sitting well in his stomach.

“Does any of this happen to involve a certain Latina goddess?” Seka didn’t wait for his response because she already knew the answer. “I told you once and I’m going to keep saying it until you listen to me: You. Are. Making. A. HUGE. Mistake.”

“It won’t be that bad!” Cade threw his hands up in the air, mindful not to chuck the mug through the front window of the restaurant. Yet. “What makes her different from any of the others?”

“For starters?” Seka gave him a quick once-over and smirked. “No one else ever got you riled like this.”

“You do a perfectly fine job crawling under my skin.”

“That’s just it, though. That’s my job. I’m the very loud and irritating voice that keeps you headed in the direction that gets us what we want.”

Cade glanced around and waited for the underlings to clear more boxes out of the room before he lowered his voice and dipped his head to her. “What happens when I don’t know what I want?”

Read more

• They managed to successfully break into the top secret archives beneath the lake

• So did someone—or rather, something—else

“Elena.”

The cool night air filled her lungs and made tears of relief spring to her eyes. They were out. They made it out.

No thanks to whatever, whoever, the hell that was.

“Here.” She shrugged off her sweater and wrapped it around the astrolabe before thrusting it at the man trying to keep up with her furious pace away from him. “Take it. I did my job. I’m done.”

“Elena.”

She spun around to yell at him, scream at him, maybe even kick him in the shins.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

In the darkness of the quiet lake shore, where they’d managed to slip out of the facility undetected and dodge the security lights of both museums, it was easier to see who Cade really was.

No.

What he really was.

Read more

• He gave her a glimpse into his old life—and where he actually comes from (hint: it’s not Chicago)

• He also gave a glimpse into the reality that he might, maybe, possibly have something resembling a heart. Maybe.

• Their museum heist shifted from “grab it and run” to something a bit more complicated—and buried beneath the lake

Son of a bitch.

He actually did it.

That son of a bitch actually did it.

“I’ll have you know, my mother was a lovely woman.” Cade wrinkled his nose at her but kept his hand firmly on her back to push her further into the dark corridor. “So you can stop muttering such horrible things about her.”

“Sorry.” Elena quickly shook her head. “No, I mean, I was talking about you.” Maybe. She didn’t remember saying anything out loud. To be fair, though, the man had her in a state of semi-shock and awe. Her cognition was a little fried at the moment.

It started with their “casual stroll” out into the night air and down the observatory walkway that connected to the natural history museum’s tiered gardens. Cade followed her lead up to a point, letting her steer their direction but insisting on holding her close to his side. They laughed over meaningless quips and smiled, waved, nodded, et cetera to passersby and outdoor security guards alike.

They were a picture of the perfect downtown couple.

Until Elena spotted the “employees only” signs over a door tucked behind some bushes but definitely leading to the underbelly of the history museum. That was when Cade told her to stay quiet, hold on to him tight, and trust him enough to keep her eyes closed.

She did.

They kept walking.

And they walked right past a group of guards, through the door, and into the first sectional hallway of the museum storage facility.

No one said a word. No alarms went off.

It was like they didn’t even exist.

That’s around the time Elena started muttering to herself. Cade didn’t break his stride, or hers, a mask of determination etched on his face—at least until he scolded her for insulting his mother.

“I just don’t get it,” Elena whispered. She glanced around his arm to see if anyone had spotted them or followed them in. “That guy was, like, three feet away. I could smell his cologne.”

“Dogs with head colds could smell that. Don’t worry about it.”

She moved to pull away from him, unsure of whether it was a good idea to keep walking so attached to this weirdo. Sure, he was sexy and funny and oozed charm when he allowed himself to relax out of “Mob Boss Mode”, but there was just something about him. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on that had some alarm bells tinkling in the back of her mind.

Okay, so they were small alarm bells. Not foghorns, thank goodness.

More the kind that whispered the most ridiculous and insane ideas she shooed out of her brain the second they formed.

“Best stick with me,” he muttered when he felt her pull away. “It’ll be easier to make an escape if we need to.”

“How?”

“Just trust me. Yeah?”

Elena gave him the most skeptical Look she could muster. “Trust. You.”

He pressed his free hand over his chest and feigned a gasp of hurt. “Ouch. You’re making it sound like I’ve done anything at all to break your trust.”

“Oh, you haven’t. It’s just, hmm, let’s see.” She held up a hand to count the points with her fingers. “Organized crime boss, right? Full mafia. Not just a loan shark.”

The firm line of his mouth answered that question.

“Right. Who had God-knows-what done to some guy—”

“A thief.”

“Okay, but you couldn’t call the cops because otherwise you would have. Which means you’re definitely a criminal of some sort. See Item One. Next, there’s the fact that you’re totally okay with stealing an artifact from a museum, breaking into a highly secured facility—”

Cade scoffed as he looked around. “Not that secure.”

“Semantics. It just goes to show you’ve done this before and who knows how many times? Not to mention some of the weird shit you’ve been saying and telling me about that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever unless you’re some crazy person and oh my god, I’m on a museum heist with a crazy person.”

“Need to sit down? Process that for a moment?”

She shot him a glare. “No. What I need is a tranquilizer gun.”

“Oh, calm down.” He nodded at the door they were quickly approaching. “We’re here.”

Before she could shove the metal door open, he tucked her tighter to him and whispered the order for her to close her eyes again. When she didn’t obey right away, he gave her a little shake.

“Hey. I’m serious. Some of my ‘weird shit’ you keep panicking about is more than you can handle.”

Elena’s glare only deepened. “You know what? Fuck you! I can handle—”

He pulled her through the door.

Not like a normal person. Not the way that regular people use door handles or push on handlebars and lean their body weight against the wood or metal slab to enter the next section of the building.

Nope.

Cade pulled her through the door.

The very locked, very secure, very much not open door.

“You’re right,” he said with a proud smirk at her stunned silence. “I have done this before. Many times. It’s a specialty of mine.” He gestured to the open space of the huge bunker they now stood inside. “Not here, though. This is a first for me. You?”

She shook her head. Tottled forward. This time he let her, with a quick pat on her shoulder and a not-so-stifled chuckle as he left her there to go look for the compass.

This was a lot for her to digest. Visually, internally, situationally…the whole…everything. Around her sat potentially millions of artifacts spanning cultures and languages and entire civilizations of hundreds, maybe even thousands of years across the globe. Things the general public had not seen yet or didn’t know existed. Things she was forbidden to see or touch or share oxygen with because she just didn’t have that kind of clearance. No one did.

And standing in the middle of it all, rifling through provenance records and flipping over item tags, was a man who shouldn’t be able to do half the impossible things he’d done right before her very eyes.

“Who are you?”

Cade glanced up from a pottery tag to blink at her. “Me?”

Elena rolled her eyes, threw her hands in the air, and sighed. “No. The other guy I came here with. Yes, you!”

“First of all.”

A mixture of danger and excitement swirled low in her belly with every long stride he took toward her. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes glowed in the low light with a heat she didn’t want to believe was for her. Because it couldn’t be.

“I’m not loving this idea of you coming here, or going anywhere, with some ‘other guy’.” Cade filled her space once more, too close and too overwhelming and too…intoxicating. His voice dropped low, sending shivers through her spine and straight to the ache deep inside her. “Don’t get me wrong, ælfscíene, I have no illusions of exclusivity between us.” He lifted his hand to toy with the ends of her curls that tumbled over her shoulder. “But I think you should know just how much I find myself hating that thought.”

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. “What thought?”

“You.” His face dipped lower. Closer. “With some other guy. Another man. Not me.”

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Thick. Dry. Needing him. “Why?” She breathed.

“Fuck if I know.”

His lips came so dangerously close to hers. Another inch, another sigh, and they’d be tasting each other exactly the way something inside her begged and pleaded for her to enjoy.

“Second of all…” Cade gazed at her mouth as if he were deciding on whether to go for it or hold back. The fact that he seemed to be debating it made her pulse race. “You’re asking all the wrong questions.”

“What?”

“Exactly.”

Just like before, he quickly stepped away and left her to stew in the heat he created but refused to tamper. “We need to find this thing,” he called over his shoulder. “Any idea where it could be?”

She’d be lucky if she could string two words together.

“Ah! Never mind!” Cade grinned and pointed at a sign. “Maritime! That sounds right.” He waved her over. “Come on. Let’s go. We don’t have all night.”

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• Tensions—and heat—began to rise between the artist and the soon-to-be art thief

• Ticket prices at the museum were insane! But so was the way he held her close, stole a kiss, and made her forget it’s “just pretend”

It shouldn’t have taken her longer than ten minutes to circulate through the east wing. There was only what, three short halls and a veranda overlooking some star charts?

Yet between a scout troop, three young families, and a marvelous selection of medieval art, Elena ended up taking more than twenty minutes to get through the section. Without spotting a single astrolabe or anything remotely resembling a compass, of course.

She didn’t exactly beat feet through the museum to rejoin her frustrating companion, but it was a fair speed-walk that wound her through the main foyer, down a hall she didn’t recognize from earlier, and finally the west wing.

Of course it was the “cooler” side of the observatory.

Cade just had to have everything go his way, even when she was the one calling the shots.

This section of the museum was plastered in neon backlit posters of nebulas, multicolored planetary rings, and galaxies that spun in slow, glittery spirals depending on the angle the viewer looked at them. Displays portraying Chicago’s “true sky” and future projects to minimize light pollution filled the main area with interactive exhibits and open invitations to support each innovative measure. Central to this space was “the old planet dome thingie”, a huge metal sphere with holes meticulously punched in patterns meant to replicate the constellations.

Next to the planetarium—the actual term—was the entrance to another exhibit: some governor family-sponsored, full-bodied view into the continuously expanding universe.

This is where she found him, standing at the entrance as if he wanted to go inside but feared whatever lay within. She almost didn’t approach him, not wanting to interrupt whatever it was running through his mind that made him seem so…so…lost.

Something tugged at her heartstrings. It didn’t feel right to just walk away. Not with the way his face softened and the artificial starlight glistened in his silvery eyes as if he were truly gazing out over the galaxies with heartfelt wonder.

“Nothing over there,” she casually remarked when she finally approached. “Find anything here?”

Cade blinked. Swallowed. Not once did he look away from that long, dark hall. “Yeah.”

He didn’t elaborate.

Elena rocked on her heels. Ooookkaaayyyy… “So, yeah. What do you want to do now?”

When he finally turned his head to look at her, she felt her breath catch.

Were those…tears?

Cade held his hand out to her but didn’t force her to take it.

He didn’t need to.

Something just felt…right…when she slipped her hand into his. Even better when he laced their fingers together and held her like he didn’t want to let her go.

“I want to show you something.”

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• A deal was struck. A date was set.

• A “date” was also requested…

The man kept his pensive gaze transfixed on everything passing by outside the window, not once bothering to glance in her direction. Which normally would be fine if he were a total stranger who just happened to sit in the train seat facing her.

Not someone who was paying her thirty thousand dollars to go on a date.

“Like what you see?” He asked without turning his head.

Actually, yes. A little too much for Elena’s comfort. Not that she ever had anything against tattoos, or neck tattoos, but usually those were dramatic roses and statement pieces wrapped in thorns and rosary beads on guys who thought way too much of themselves. The tattoos on this guy, though?

She had no clue what they were. All she knew was they looked old, some of them followed what looked like a scar, and they made him look hot.

Insanely hot.

“I’m trying to figure you out.”

That got him to finally look at her. His luscious mouth twitched upwards. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Elena hugged her sweater around her waist, regretting leaving her bag back in her tiny apartment. Since the museums all had strict policies on bags, however, she felt it best to stick her cards in her pocket and pray her digital wallet worked. “You’re…interesting.”

“Oh?” That twitch turned into a smirk. Which turned into a silent invitation for her to keep going.

“Well, yeah. For starters, you’re this—” she stopped herself before she publicly announced you’re a mobster to the whole freaking train. “Um, guy. Who probably owns a car. And yet you wanted to take the train.”

“Disappointed I didn’t pick you up in my Maserati?”

“No.” She folded her arms and stared at his reflection in the window so it would look like she preferred watching the cityscape. “I’m more of a Ferrari kind of girl.”

He pretended to be insulted by her choice in luxury vehicles, but she caught the wink he gave her. “I promise I’ll do better next time.”

Next time. Those words made something in her stomach flutter that she instantly stamped down with a heavy dose of reality. There would be no “next time” after this.

“If you’re wondering why I prefer public transit over the convenience of custom leather seats and a sunroof, well…” He leaned back with a shrug. “There’s nothing convenient about parking.”

It was irritating how easily he made her giggle. Elena Martin was not that kind of girl to simper and giggle over gorgeous men like…like… “By the way.” Now she looked directly at him, wondering to herself how the hell he got her to go this far without filling in a few important blanks. “I just realized. I gave you my name, but you never gave me yours.”

“And I never will, ælfscíene. But you can call me Cade.”

Elena opened her mouth to point out the contradiction he just threw at her, but she didn’t quite have the right words for it. How could someone seem crazy and sane at the exact same time? So she shook her head and focused on the other puzzle at hand. “What does that even mean? ‘Elf sheen’?”

Cade slowly shook his head. “Nope. You’re asking for too many secrets.”

“Not my fault you have too many to keep.”

He began to retort with something witty wrapped in a smirk, but they were interrupted by the intercom announcing the next stop as theirs. So instead of responding, Cade motioned for her to slide out of the seat and stood behind her.

Did he—

Did he just touch her ass?!

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• There’s someone arguably shadier than the mob boss trying to make a deal—and he’s got nothing to lose

• A college student realizes that whether it’s to a loan shark or the federal government, she’s going to owe someone a ton of money, so…

Thank the gods he hadn’t chosen that moment to take another sip of absinthe.

He damn near sp…

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• An impossible invoice threatened a struggling art student’s housing

• Borscht became the recommended entrée while a small mob gathered to “juice a client” for long-overdue debts

• A silver-eyed loan shark emerged as an arguably more attractive way to fund college tuition

“I’ve been told that before.” Ewan Markis chuckled under his …

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Welcome to The White City.

This episode begins the adventure, intrigue, and romance of the series—make sure to subscribe so you don’t miss the next installment.

The buzz in her hand did not promise good things.

When had it ever?

Elena glanced down at her phone and sighed. Just as expected, the notification showed the institute’s logo, her full name, and the…

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