The black Maybach slid to a stop under Eden’s private awning just after nine. Flashbulbs snapped from the public entrance out front, paparazzi hoping in vain to get a glimpse of the Don and the woman no one could name. Tonight they would see nothing: Jaxon had them routed through the employee ramp, hidden from every lens in the city.
Inside the service corridor, the bass line of Eden’s heartbeat throbbed through concrete. Raven followed one step behind him, her silk dress whispering around her knees. She had slept maybe two hours since their fight. When she looked in the mirror she saw a small crescent bruise where his teeth had grazed her collarbone, a private brand no one here would notice, but she felt it, the echo of last night’s brutal honesty pulsing beneath her skin like a second h
