GlassDoor Gourmet was quiet in that expensive, deliberate way. Low jazz, candlelight flickering across dark tables, waiters gliding like they were part of the decor. I had booked the corner window table: city lights glittering outside, private enough that no one would overhear us, visible enough that I could watch the entrance.

That was what Isabella wanted. Well, that was what she would want Val's drama at the other one.

"Sweet heaven"

I saw her the second she stepped inside.

Isabella looked like sin wrapped in red silk. I haven't seen this dress before. It clung to every curve, slit high on one thigh, neckline dipping low enough to make...