Only then did she accept it, feigning reluctance.
Three days later, I was dragged out of the detention cell in a daze.
They brought me straight to a private lounge at a club.
I pushed the door open. There on the sofa, dead center, Blake and Fiona were sharing a grape between their lips.
The grape slipped. They fell into a deep, tangled kiss.
The hooting and whistling from the men and women around them was loud enough to bring the ceiling down.
I didn't know how long I stood there before Blake finally noticed me in the doorway.
His eyes locked on my gaunt, colorless face. His expression darkened instantly. "What happened? Did someone give you trouble in there?"
Before I could say a word, Fiona let out a sharp little laugh.
"You really know how to play a man's heartstrings, Miss Sullivan. With your history with Blake, who would dare lay a finger on you? That sickly makeup is incredibly realistic, by the way. Must've taken you ages."
Blake had been about to stand. At her words, he settled back down.
He tapped out a cigarette, leaned into the lighter Fiona held up for him, and lit it.