SLOANE'S POINT OF VIEW.

The music was so loud it felt like the floor itself had a pulse, as it started thrumming up through my heels, and my bones, until it was inside me. Gold lights dripped from the ceiling in thick chains and ribbons, as the entire room smelled like champagne, cigarettes, weed, and the kind of trouble you couldn’t wash off in the morning.

Lucien’s hand was still at the small of my back as we moved, with him guiding me forward through the crush of bodies. ...