It had been three days since the rooftop. Three days of waiting for the unknown number to light up my phone again.
When it finally did, the message was short:
Him: Hotel ballroom. Third floor. Now.
No details. No room number. Just a location.
I found the place easily a grand hotel in the city center. The lobby was full of guests in evening wear, a wedding party milling near the bar. My heart pounded as I took the elevator to the third floor.
The ballroom doors were open. Inside, tables were set with white linens and champagne glasses. Soft jazz played from a speaker. But what made my stomach flip was that the room wasn’t empty a corporate event was in full swing.
And he was there. Across the room, leaning against the bar, wearing a dark suit that made him look like he belonged. His g
