The rain had already begun by the time Shane closed the curtains, the low hum of the city muffled into a distant, steady hiss.

The suite was warm, scented faintly of expensive cologne and the lingering trace of my perfume.

I sat curled in the armchair by the coffee table, still in the ridiculous wig from earlier, makeup smudged from a long day of pretending to be someone else.

Shane’s eyes followed me from the desk where he was setting down his laptop, his gaze a strange mix of amusement ...