The city lights of Manhattan were still glowing when Logan Reed stepped out of the Plaza Hotel. The collar of his tailored coat turned up against the early morning chill. He smelled of champagne and Sabrina’s perfume. A sweet, dangerous scent that still clung to his skin. For a brief moment, he felt invincible.
The deal he had just secured, the woman on his arm, the luxury suite they fed, the illusion that nothing in his life could fall apart. Not tonight. He unlocked his Mercedes S-Class, slid behind the wheel, and started the engine. His iPhone lit up with a dozen missed calls, but he didn’t bother checking. He assumed it was Madison worrying again.
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