Elodie stared at her phone, the ghost of Bianca's smirk still burned into her retina.

She wasn't going to let that slide. She was a Jimenez. She knew how to play games.

She opened her text thread with Bianca.

Lovely bracelet, Elodie typed. Is that the Vanderbilt collection?

She waited a beat.

Bianca replied instantly. Yes, custom made.

Elodie smiled. It was a cold, sharp smile.

She recalled a charity gala two years ago. The Vanderbilt heir had made a drunken speech about how he refused to use clear diamonds for cuffs because they looked like "common ice."

Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe Elodie was just making it up. It didn't matter. Perception was reality.

Funny, Elodie typed. I was with the Vanderbilts at their Aspen retreat last winter when they finalized that design. I thought they decided to keep that specific pavé setting exclusively for the family. It's stunning on you, though.

She added one more line.

Maybe Alden pulled some strings. You should get it authenticated for insurance, just in case. xoxo.

She watched the three dots of Bianca typing appear. Then disappear. Then appear again.

Then nothing.

Elodie put the phone down. A petty victory, but it tasted sweet. It reminded her that she had teeth.

Sofia stumbled over, holding two shot glasses.

Who are you texting? You look evil, Sofia laughed.

Just handling business, Elodie said. She took the shot. Tequila. It mixed with the vodka in her stomach, creating a warm, buzzing shield against the world.

She looked back down at the VIP pit.

The man in the black suit was no longer alone.

A nervous-looking man in a rumpled suit was standing in front of the table. He was sweating. Even from this distance, Elodie could see the sheen on his forehead.

The man in black said something. He didn't shout. He didn't gesture. He just moved his hand slightly, a dismissive flick of his wrist.

Two massive security guards stepped out of the shadows and grabbed the nervous man by the arms. They dragged him away. The nervous man was shouting, but the music swallowed his voice.

The man in black picked up his water glass and took a sip, looking utterly bored.

Elodie's curiosity spiked. This wasn't just a rich guy. This was power.

Sofia, Elodie shouted over the bass. Who is the guy in the black suit downstairs?

Sofia followed her gaze.

Her face went pale. The drunken smile vanished.

Oh, Sofia said. That is the Enforcer.

The Enforcer? Elodie repeated.

Sofia leaned in close, her lips brushing Elodie's ear.

Cassius Chaney. He works for the Randalls.

Sofia looked around nervously, as if saying his name might summon him.

He handles the problems that money cannot fix.

Elodie looked back down. Cassius Chaney.

The name unlocked a door in the back of her mind.

Flashback. Three years ago. New York.

Elodie was twenty. She was sneaking past her father's home office to get to the kitchen for a midnight snack. The heavy oak door was ajar.

She saw a young man standing opposite her father. He looked younger then, rougher around the edges, but the posture was identical. Shoulders back, spine like a steel rod.

Hazen was handing him a thick manila envelope.

Keep the Vegas problem quiet, Hazen had said.

The young man had taken the envelope. He turned to leave. He saw Elodie standing in the hallway, clutching a bag of pretzels.

He didn't say a word. He didn't apologize for being seen. He just winked at her. A cold, knowing wink. And walked past her.

Back in the present, Elodie gripped the railing.

It was him. The man her father paid to bury his secrets.

Her heart began to race. Not from fear, but from opportunity.

If Cassius Chaney handled Hazen's dirty work in Vegas, then Cassius Chaney knew about the trust fund. He might know about Joshuah.

Fate had just dropped the key to her freedom in her lap.

But he was dangerous. Sofia was terrified of him.

Elodie looked at the stairs leading down to the pit. She thought about Kade. She thought about being an "asset."

She made a choice.

I need to talk to him, Elodie said.

Sofia grabbed her arm. Are you crazy? He eats girls like you for breakfast.

I am not hungry, Elodie quips. The adrenaline was masking the fear.

She pulled her arm from Sofia's grip.

She walked toward the stairs. She checked her reflection in a glass pane on the wall. The sequins glittered. Her lipstick was red. She looked like a Vegas party girl.

Perfect camouflage.

Elodie reached the bottom of the stairs. The air here was cooler, smelling of expensive cologne and ozone.

A wall of security guards blocked the entrance to the inner circle.

She walked up to the head of security. He was holding a clipboard.

She didn't have a pass. She didn't have an invite.

She reached into her clutch. She pulled out her roll of emergency cash. She peeled off a hundred-dollar bill and folded it into her palm.

She walked up to the guard.

I am with Mr. Chaney, she said. I am the... entertainment.

The guard looked her up and down. He looked at the sequins. He looked at the desperation in her eyes that she couldn't quite hide.

He didn't order any, the guard grunted.

He didn't know I was coming. Surprise, she said. She tried to smile. She pressed the folded bill into his hand.

The guard looked at the Benjamin. He laughed. It was a cruel sound.

Honey, the cover charge is five grand. Go buy yourself a drink.

Elodie's face burned. Humiliation washed over her. She was Elodie Jimenez. A hundred dollars was tip money. But here, without her name, she was nobody.

She turned to leave, defeated.

Wait.

A voice came from behind the guard.

A massive man with a scar running through his eyebrow stepped forward. Rocco. Cassius's right hand.

Rocco looked at Elodie. He squinted.

Let her in, Rocco said. Boss is bored.

The guard stepped aside immediately.

Elodie walked past him, chin high. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She entered the inner sanctum.

The noise of the club faded here, dampened by acoustic panels.

Cassius was leaning back in his chair. He was swirling his glass of sparkling water.

He was watching her approach. His gaze was heavy. It felt like he was touching her.

He didn't stand up. He didn't offer her a seat.

Elodie stopped at his table.

She waited for him to speak. To ask who she was.

He said nothing. He just stared, forcing her to make the first move.

You have something of mine, Elodie said. Her voice trembled slightly.

It was a terrible opening line.

Cassius raised an eyebrow.

I doubt that.

Information, she corrected. About the Jimenez family.

His eyes narrowed instantly. The temperature at the table seemed to drop ten degrees.

You are Hazen's kid, he stated. It wasn't a question.

Elodie, she said.

He looked her over. From the sequins to the combat boots she had borrowed from Sofia.

Go home, princess, he said. His voice was low, rough. It is past your bedtime.