Stan took the stairs down to the garage, slid into the Huracán, and let the engine's familiar growl settle into his bones before pulling out into the evening traffic.
The drive to Four Seasons Garden was short. The sun was hanging low, painting the western sky in layers of copper and violet, and the city's lights were beginning to flicker on in scattered constellations across the skyline.
He spotted Sophie before he'd fully stopped the car.
She was standing outside the entrance to the Crown Jewel Tower, waiting for him with the particular posture of a woman who had spent considerable time getting ready and was quietly confident in the result. And she had every right to be.
The dress was a tight, glossy maroon halter-neck mini, the fabric catching the evening light with a subtle, liquid sheen that made every curve it clung to look deliberate.
