I kissed her.

Why did I do that?

The obvious answer is because it would get her attention. And it did. She agreed to talk to me. Even gave me a time and a place which, suspiciously, she’s late for.

The other, more realistic, answer is that I got a little caught up in the moment and thought it’d be a good idea. And it was. She didn’t slap me and kick me in the nuts but she didn’t kiss me back either. She accepted it and — possibly — enjoyed it?

I tap my feet on the grass to spur a little warmth up my legs. South garden in late autumn. Yes, a good place to agree to meet. Maybe she asked me to meet her out here so she could ghost me and literally leave me out in the cold. She is mafia, after all. Why did I think it would be easy?

I kissed her. Even had a bit of her lipstick on my lips that I wiped off in the bathroom. My face is turning numb but my lips are still very, very warm.

“All right, I’m here.”

I spin around but she’s not there. I glance up quickly to find Beatrix standing on the balcony overlooking the garden. She holds a champagne glass up to her mouth and takes a quick sip as she glares down at me.

“You said ten minutes,” I say.

“I had to slip out without being noticed. That’s not easy when you’re me,” she says.

“You’re alone, then?”

“For now.”

“Are you gonna come down here?” I ask.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“These are awful strange questions to fill your thirty seconds with, Mr. Tyler.”

“Thirty seconds? That’s how much one-hundred buys?”

“My time is very precious,” she says with a shrug.

“You…” I sigh, biting my cheek to stop myself from wasting more time. “I can help you.”

“Are you going to drop the charges against my father?” she asks.

“I can’t,” I answer. “That’s not my call.”

“Then, what the hell can you do for me?”

“I…” I heave in annoyance. “Would you please come down here so I don’t have to shout?”

“No,” she answers.

I walk to the lattice below the left of the balcony. “With your father and uncle out of the picture, someone has to be running things.” I ease my fingers between the thick vines to get a solid grip before pulling myself up.

Her heels move quietly along the concrete balcony, tapping softly in my direction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.

I roll my eyes. Of course, she doesn’t.

“Okay,” I say, grunting as a thorn pricks my thumb. I ignore the pain and continue up a few more feet. “You don’t. But let’s say you do. Let’s say the State’s Attorney’s office does, too.”

I reach the top and look down. Shit, why did I look down? It’s only about ten feet but — shit, why did I look down?

I ease over to the concrete railing along the balcony, coming face-to-face with Beatrix on the other side. I grip the edge to steady myself, though the quick and sudden scent of her perfume nearly knocks me off.

“Is that a threat, Mr. Tyler?” she asks.

“Angelo is facing criminal conspiracy charges,” I say. “That’s twenty-to-life without parole. You help me and I can cut that in half—”

“No deal.”

She spins around.

“Wait — Beatrix.” I reach out, my fingers barely grazing her skin as she slips away.

“I need him out now,” she says, pausing.

“Now?” I grip the rail again, exhaling hard. “I can’t do that. No one can do that.”

“Then, we’re done here.”

I lean forward, briefly losing my sense of balance but I hold on. “Beatrix, you love your father. I can tell. But you know the kind of man he really is. The kind who comes with a debt to society.”

Her pleasant face twists quickly. “What the hell would you know what kind of man my father is?” She rushes at me, pausing just short of the railing. I lean back, nearly slipping. “How dare you imply he’s anything but a fucking saint to the people of this city.”

“I’m not implying, Ms. Argento. I’m stating facts.”

“You’re spewing bullshit is what you’re doing.”

“Why do you need him out now?” I ask.

“None of your damn business.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with your tattoo, would it?” I nod at her inked shoulder and she falls silent. “That’s your family’s marque, right?”

“We’re done here,” she says again, turning away.

I reach for her wrist, successfully taking hold of it. “Beatrix.”

She stops. “Let go of me.”

“I can argue for a reduced sentence for your father,” I say, “but you have to give me something first.”

“I said, let go of me!”

She jerks free, knocking me off my balance completely.

“Whoa—!”

I fall backward and my stomach turns somersaults as I grab for the railing that’s not there.

Beatrix gasps, her hands slapping over her mouth just before she disappears from view completely.

“Lance!”

I brace myself for the pain of impact. I say the quickest prayer to anyone listening as the ground rushes at me. The crash and crunch of tiny branches sound in my ears as the bushes break my fall and thorns prick my legs and back.

“Oh, shit,” Beatrix says on the balcony.

I roll out of the bush, instantly regretting ending up on my back as a few thorns stab into my ass.

“Ouch…” I say.

It doesn’t last. I take a quick inventory as I stare up at the sky, bending and twisting my arms and legs. Everything moves as it should. Nothing is broken. Good.

I slowly ease up onto my elbows as the garden doors fly open. Beatrix runs out, her heels clacking loudly on the concrete before she makes it to the grass.

“Lance!” She drops to her knees beside me. “Lance, are you okay?!”

“I’m okay,” I say, trying to banish the pain from my voice. “I just need a minute…”

“Thank fuck!” She heaves a thick breath. “I thought I killed you.”

“No, I’m all right…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m…”

I look up into her brown eyes, so big and full of concern. Not the expression I’d expect… if I ever in a million years pictured something like this happening.

“Beatrix, it’s only going to get worse,” I say. “For your father and your family… and for you. Please, let me help you.”

She looks at me, those big eyes growing softer every second. There’s a piece of her that knows I’m right. I just have to pull it out... and keep it out.

“What would I have to do?” she finally asks.

I push up onto my hands, coming face-to-face with her again. I expect her to lean away but she doesn’t. She lingers there, her warm, panicked breath barely grazing my cheek. Her pulse rattles her eyes and her plump, painted lips quiver slightly.

I lean closer. “We—”

“Trix.”

She flinches away from me, her face dropping with the sound of his voice behind her. I look over her shoulder at the man standing in the garden doorway.

Marcus Donner.

He steps closer to us, each stomp of his shoes bringing darker shadows over her eyes.

“What’s going on out here?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she says quickly. She pushes off her knees to stand and extends her hand to me. “Just enjoying some fresh air.”

“On the ground?”

I reach up to take her hand but Marcus bumps her out of the way, forcing me to take his hand instead. He yanks me up with a sloppy jerk of his arm and I slip free of him as soon as my balance takes over.

“I was just admiring some of that wonderful flora, that’s all,” I say, flashing a smile.

“Is that right?” he asks.

“Beatrix was telling me about how these flowers were imported all the way from Venice. Pretty fascinating, if you ask me.”

He turns to her. “Get back inside.”

She looks at me with hesitation. “Actually, Mr. Tyler and I are in the middle of a conversation—”

“Now, Trix.”

“Ms. Argento,” she corrects him. Her back straightens as she takes a quick step forward, once again extending her hand toward me. “It was nice chatting with you, Mr. Tyler. We should talk again soon.”

I take her hand and she shakes with a hard determination. It’s not to intimidate me, obviously.

It’s to piss him off.

“Perhaps somewhere a bit more private,” she adds.

Marcus flexes his jaw hard. It’s definitely working.

“Absolutely. It was a pleasure, Ms. Argento,” I say.

She smiles. “You can call me Trix.”

Her hand falls away and she walks off, leaving me a little breathless and him more than a little enraged. Usually, I’m not too keen on being used but when it comes to this prick, I don’t seem to mind it much at all.

Marcus glares at me for a few seconds before following her through the garden doors. I want to trail along behind them, maybe even stop the inevitable confrontation that’s bound to go down between them but something tells me Beatrix can hold her own against him.

Or Trix, as she insisted.

We should talk again soon.

I did it. I got through to her, even if just for a moment. I showed her the silver lining around the edge of the black cloud hanging over her whole family. If Marcus hadn’t have shown up when he did…

I need to see her again. Soon, before someone has a chance to intervene. Somewhere more private, as she said, but that might not be easy with the bodyguard hovering over her shoulder.

But I’ve done all I can, for now. We can’t meet up here again tonight without drawing suspicion.

I brush the dirt and leaves off my pants before I head back into the warm hall. The auctioneer’s voice echoes throughout the room, speaking quickly to keep up with all the bids on some priceless work of art from Angelo’s personal collection. Giving back to the community, as Trix claims he does. She’s not wrong, obviously. There’s just more to it than that.

I glance around, trying unsuccessfully to find her one last time, before heading for the exit. I’ll try and contact her again on Monday.

I step outside and reach into my wallet for my parking stub. I pass it off to the valet and wait on the curb, crossing my arms to block out a quick gust of wind as it blows in from around the corner.

“Excuse me, sir.”

I turn to find a man standing behind me in a black suit and bright pink bowtie. The breeze pushes his shaggy, brown hair to the side and he smiles at me.

“I believe you dropped this,” he says, elongating his words to show hidden meaning.

He gives a large, obvious wink and holds up his hand, along with a folded dollar bill pinched between his fingers.

“Uh...” I say slowly. He gives me another wink. “Look, buddy, whatever you’re asking me for, I’m not into it. But thanks.”

He cocks his head. “Trust me, you are.”

“I’m really not.”

“Dude, just take it. It’s from Trix.”

I look at the bill in his hand again. “Oh...”

He slaps the money into my open palm and shakes his head in disappointment. “That could have gone down way cooler, man.”

He spins around and walks back inside.

I squint in confusion and look around for wandering eyes and listening ears before unfolding the dollar, quickly realizing it’s the same one-hundred-dollars I gave her earlier, but now there’s something written on it with dark red ink.

You have a confession? St. Peter’s church. Noon tomorrow.

I smile and glance up at the building. My eyes lock on a figure in gold in the window above. She vanishes out of sight as the curtain sways in her place.

Damn, she’s good.