Twenty-four hours and no sign of my Bronco, and Elijah says it hasn’t shown up in any chop shop in town that he knows. He’s still looking, and so are the cops. I’ve left three more messages on my brother’s phone—which never rings before kicking me to voice mail—and sent him a dozen texts. I’ve gotten zero replies.

It’s not unusual for him to go radio silent for a few days every once in a while, but he always tells me first and then gets back to me as soon as he can. My gut says this is different. Bad different. Or maybe that’s just my stomach churning from the fact someone stole my damn Bronco.

Keira kept her promise to Mount and never called work today, and I decided to wait until Monday to tell her about my car.

Surely, I’ll find it before then, right? I sure as hell hope so.

When I climb into a taxi on Friday night, part of me wants to go straight to the club and wait until my appointed time and let my stranger help me forget this shitty end of my week.

But I’m not doing it.

I can’t keep meeting a guy whose name I don’t know. That’s definitely not going to end with me having a man who looks at me like Rix does at Valentina.

If I can’t call him for help, then he doesn’t deserve to be part of my life. Simple enough.

And since I don’t have any way to contact him, in addition to not having his name, my decision is made.

It’s over.

As I ride back to my place, I can’t help but wonder if he’ll find someone else to play with when I don’t show up.

Stop thinking about him.

My phone rings as I toss my purse on the counter. Valentina’s name is on the screen, and hope rushes through me.

“Valentina? Did they find my car?”

“Oh, honey, sorry, no. They didn’t.”

That hope instantly deflates. “Oh.”

“But I was wondering . . . do you have plans tonight?”

I look around all five hundred square feet of my apartment—from the living area to the kitchenette and to the doorway to the bedroom—as though searching for an excuse, which is my knee-jerk reaction. Then I remind myself that I need plans tonight, because that may be the only way I keep my promise to myself not to go to Haven.

“No.”

“Good. Well, maybe not good for you, but good for us because I’m having some friends over for a girls’ night tonight. I was telling a few of them about you, and we thought you might want to join us.”

Girls’ night? That’s one of those things that I’ve seen in movies and read about in books but haven’t actually ever done. Not even in college, because I was working three jobs just to pay tuition and rent.

“Uh, sure?” My answer comes out as a question, and I clear my throat. “I mean, I’d love to.”

“Great. I’ll text you my address.” She pauses, and I can practically feel her wince at reminding me of the fact that I don’t have a way to get there. “Wait, never mind that. I can have someone pick you up.”

“I can get there. It’s no big deal. What time?”

She fills me in on the rest of the details, and when I hang up, I force myself to smile.

Now I won’t be tempted to go to the club.

* * *

I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into. None at all.

First, Valentina’s place is a beautiful house in the Garden District that I guarantee costs more than I’ll probably ever make in my entire life. Property here isn’t cheap, especially when it’s perfectly restored like hers.

Keira would probably feel comfortable here, but I feel insanely out of place. I wipe my heels three times on the doormat out of old habit to avoid tracking mud inside onto the hardwood floors and expensive-looking rugs. Canvases of gorgeous nudes, which I recognize as Valentina’s own work from the gallery, decorate the walls.

They’re incredible. It’s even more incredible to think that she makes her living from art and it can pay for this life of hers. Or at least I assume, considering her husband is a cop. Then again, I probably shouldn’t assume anything about anything.

“Welcome,” Valentina says, giving me a quick hug. “I’m so glad you could make it.” She follows my gaze to the paintings on the walls. “Yes, those are mine too. Rix insists that I showcase them here. He’s actually the one who made me finally take the leap to sell them. He changed everything for me. I would’ve kept them hidden in my studio for the rest of my life if it’d been left up to me to find the courage. You get me, I know.”

I swallow, thinking about what a crazy leap of faith that must have been, because I’m still having trouble comprehending it. “Clearly, you made the right choice.”

She smiles. “You are too. I promise. I have instincts for art, and I know yours is going to sell. It’s unique and raw and beautiful. People are going to die for it. You just wait.”

I’m still soaking up her compliments when she points toward the living room. “Come on. I can’t wait to introduce you to everyone.”

Valentina leads me into a beautiful room and introduces me to a trio of women so quickly, I don’t catch a single one of their names. They’re all ridiculously gorgeous and look like they could rule the world as a hobby.

I sit down and stay quiet, listening to them chatter about their husbands and boyfriends and what sounds like amazing lives.

One of them is literally married to a billionaire. A freaking billionaire. She’s also wearing the cutest purple vintage cocktail dress I’ve ever seen.

“Temperance works at Seven Sinners,” Valentina informs them as part of my introduction.

“They have incredible whiskey cocktails,” the gorgeous redhead says, wearing leggings and an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt that says Revenge of the Nerds on it. “Rhett took me on a date there.”

I’m trying to remember her name and failing, but I latch onto the one thing I can actually talk about and not sound like an idiot—whiskey. “We do. Even if you’re not a whiskey drinker, they’re pretty delicious cocktails.”

The redhead must realize I can’t remember her name. “I’m Ariel, by the way. And before you ask, yes, I’m named after The Little Mermaid. I’ve got thingamabobs aplenty, and I always want more.” She winks.

“She means laptops aplenty so she can hack into government databases,” Valentina says.

“Shhh. Don’t tell her all my secrets yet. I save those for the second date,” Ariel replies with a laugh.

One of the women, an intimidating blonde named Vanessa, waves her off good-naturedly. “We’re talking whiskey first, not hacking. I need to buy a case of that Phoenix label. Con loves it, and I want to surprise him. If you could hook me up, I would be a very grateful woman.”

Her question actually makes me feel useful here, which is nice. “I’m happy to.”

“Fabulous. I’m holding you to it. What’s your number?”

When I tell her, she puts it in her phone and fires off a text to me so I have hers. I’m making friends. It’s a little astonishing, but totally cool.

“Now, how about we stop badgering her for booze and drink some of our own. After all, y’all have designated drivers tonight, right?”

The wine and other drinks are refilled, and I’m three glasses into some very delicious red wine before I realize it.

“I overheard the craziest conversation at the shop today. You won’t even believe it,” the woman married to the billionaire says. I believe her name is Yve.

Valentina fills me in. “Yve owns Dirty Dog, and she just opened a brand-new lingerie store attached to it. You have to check it out.”

“And the gossip in Pretty Kitty is the best,” Yve says.

“So, spill,” Valentina says. The chatter in the room hushes.

“I heard about a sex club. Outside of town. Super fancy and expensive. The kind that I can’t believe Lucas wouldn’t already know about. No one’s supposed to talk about it, but this woman accidentally let it slip while she was trying on corsets.”

“I bet she gets her membership yanked. They’re not supposed to talk about it,” I say before catching myself. Every eye in the room focuses on me. “I mean, I assume that’s how those places work.”

Yve’s eyebrows go up. “You’ve been there. Haven’t you?”

As I open my mouth to deny it, Valentina refills my glass. “She’s a terrible liar, for the record.”

“Hey! That’s not fair.”

Valentina rolls her eyes. “Seriously? Trying to pretend that wasn’t your artwork the night of the auction? Pshh. You need to work on those skills if you want to lie worth a damn.”

I take a rather unladylike swig of wine. “I am not a bad liar. I’m a great liar.”

Yve smirks. “Then prove it. Two truths and a lie. You’re up.”

I freeze, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. To buy time, I drain the glass, which probably isn’t the smartest move.

“I’ve never seen an uncircumcised penis. My middle name is Aurelia. It’s been six years since I committed a felony.” They spill out of me quicker than I was able to down the wine.

Mouths around the room drop open.

“She’s a terrible liar.”

“And a felon.”

Valentina bursts out laughing. “Only if she got caught. I have a feeling Temperance is too smart for that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Yve, the shop owner, pipes up. “Sure thing, Temperance who hasn’t seen enough penises in her life. Now, tell us about the club. If I can rustle up more business catering to these ladies, I need to know.”

I bite down on my lip, but the wine has loosened my tongue. “I can’t. It’s against the rules. You don’t talk about it.”

The blonde, Vanessa, reaches for the wine. “Wait, so it’s like fight club?”

“No, it’s . . . probably way more dangerous than fight club.”

“So, who’d you bang? How many?” This question comes from Yve.

“Just one guy. I don’t know his name.”

“You whore. I think I love you,” Vanessa says and turns to Valentina. “She’s in the girl gang, by the way. We needed an actual rule-breaker instead of a pretend rule-breaker like you. Who knows when we might need to commit a felony and not get caught. But I vote that Temperance doesn’t talk to the cops. You get to do that.”

The women all nod, and a wave of acceptance engulfs me, but I know I shouldn’t get used to it.

“He was at the auction,” I tell Valentina. “That was the only time I ever saw him outside the club.”

Her eyes sparkle with interest. “What did he look like?”

“Besides gorgeous in a suit? Dark hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders.”

“The asshole who outbid me on your piece? Are you joking?”

My mouth drops open this time. “What? He did not.”

She nods. “Dark gray pinstripe three-piece suit. Light blue shirt that made his eyes pop. Uh, yeah. That was him. I contemplated sketching him for Rix so I could track him down to buy it from him.”

The knowledge sends me reeling. My stranger bought my artwork?

“That’s . . . no way.”

“Yes. I swear.”

“Then I have his company name somewhere. I wonder . . .”

Ariel pipes up. “If you have the company name, I can track him down in less than five minutes.”

“Ari, I’m pretty sure Rhett told you no more hacking.” This comes from Valentina.

“This is barely hacking. It’s for the sisterhood. Shouldn’t she at least know the name of the guy she fucked? I mean . . . what if she got pregnant or something. It’s practically required.”

“I’m definitely not pregnant.” I look down at my wineglass. “I don’t think. I hope. No, definitely not.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Ariel says. I can practically see her fingers twitching, like she wants a keyboard in front of her. “So, what’s the company name?”

My mind goes blank as I try to remember it, but all I can picture is his glacier-blue eyes. “I don’t remember.”

“Get it for me tomorrow and I’ll go digging.” She glances at Valentina. “This one doesn’t like it when I bring my computer, so I left it at home.”

“Do you have any idea how much trouble we could get in if you brought it with? I am married to a cop.”

That’s when I decide girls’ night is basically the best invention ever. Right behind multiple orgasms. And men with no names who won’t be able to hide for long.