Mary’s POV

The elevator doors whispered open, releasing a faint breath of perfumed air from the private penthouse suite above the hotel. The carpets were soft, the hallway dim, and the silence tasted like danger. I stepped out, my heels sinking into the plush runner as I reached the door Henry always used when we met like this. Not Henry Prescott. Not the mayor. Not the perfect gentleman the town adored. Here he was someone else entirely. A man with a false ID, a false life, and a very real ...