The restaurant smelled like garlic and expensive wine, but all I could taste was dread.
Grosthe had a nightlife that never quite went to sleep. At least, it was so outside my estate. At 12:04 A.M, the city was still throbbing with neon veins and late-night laughter, and the exclusive restaurant Janet loved— our spot, as she liked to call it— had a steady hum of well-dressed people pretending to have nothing better to do at midnight as usual.
In my case, I wasn’t pretending.
I got in the elevator, reached the top floor, and slid in through the glass doors, my shirt clinging to my back as my heartbeat became a drumroll.
The stewardess smiled when she saw me. “Table 9, right this way.”
Of course. Janet picked our regular table. And there she was.
Alone. Waiting.
A red silk dress clung
