The keycard should have opened 1412.

I was exhausted, suitcase rolling behind me, the conference badge still hanging from my neck. The elevator had been packed. The hallway on the fourteenth floor was quiet and carpeted, the kind of expensive silence that made every sound feel too loud. I stopped in front of the door, tapped the card, and watched the light flash green. The lock clicked. I pushed the door open, stepped inside, and let it swing shut behind me.

The room was already occupied.

A man stood near the window with his back to me, shirt half-unbuttoned, phone pressed to his ear. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair. The city...