The bass from Club Eden throbbed through the soles of Raven’s heels as she pushed through the velvet entrance curtain. The crowd swallowed her in its heat and perfume, but she felt cold all the way to the bone. Word traveled fast in this city, too fast. Every headline about her article was a blade, but the ones whispering Jaxon’s name cut deepest.
She hadn’t spoken to him since that last explosion of anger, since the look he’d given her, like she was a stranger he wanted to strangle and kiss all at once.
Marco, Jaxon’s ever-watchful lieutenant, was waiting by the stairs to the mezzanine. The dark suit didn’t soften his broad shoulders or the hard set of his jaw.
“Raven,” he said, voice pitched low. “Don’t go up there.”
“I don’t have time for this,” she shot back, not even slowing.
His
