I told myself I wouldn’t go back.

I told myself a hundred times while I washed the last of the glasses, while I helped the rest of the staff finish for the night, while Joana’s laughter floated down the stairs and finally disappeared behind her bedroom door.

I still ended up standing outside the billiard room at 11:47 p.m. with my heart trying to climb out of my throat.

The door was already open.

Damien stood by the window, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a glass of something amber in his hand. Dominic sat on the edge of the billiard table, sleeves rolled, watching the doorway like he’d been waiting...