Cool air rushes in as a door opens. I can hear footsteps going both directions, then the door swings shut. Gooseflesh rises on my arms. No one has spoken or made a sound but I sense that I'm not alone. Suddenly, I feel near to naked in my flimsy dress. Considering my lack of bra and panties, I'm as close to the definition as one can get. But it's more than that. A shiver runs through me as a feeling of not just being watched but scrutinized from head to toe washes over me.

Then a sound, the slightest movement followed by the feel of warm breath on my shoulder. "Did you enjoy the food?" His voice is smooth, clean and hard, like a shot of strong whiskey. My mind dashes back to the picture Clark handed me in his office, the picture of the possible mastermind of the Lace Underground. I try to match the voice with the striking face and blue eyes in the picture. I can remember staring at the photo, thinking the man staring back at me sure as hell didn't look like a brainy chemist who concocts pharmaceuticals.

"It was delicious. Thank you," I say, and am shocked at how politely supplicant I sound.

"I noticed you were enjoying the champagne." His smooth hard liquor sound swirls around me. I want badly to find it harsh and unpleasant, but the sound of it is too soothing, too confident, too damn seductive.

"It was delicious too," I say.

"Good, I've brought you some more."

A glass presses against my lips, and the sweet smell of champagne tickles my nose. I lean my face back and pull in my lips but not before drawing my tongue across my bottom lip to lick the tiny droplets left behind by the effervescent liquid.

"I might drip the champagne on your lips just to watch you lick it off." There should be a joking, teasing laugh with the suggestion but none follows. A serious quiet falls over the room. I shuffle my sandals around on the cement floor.

"Don't you want another drink?"

I shake my head. "I think I've had enough."

A phone beeps, startling me. "Yes, we're through here, Rowan."

"No wait," I say, realizing I have blown my only chance of getting into the Lace Underground. Every other girl found in a dumpster with her neck slit would be my fault. "I hesitated only because it made me dizzy."

"One of the side effects but that goes away after awhile."

The door opens. "Out." He orders. I hear nothing but can only assume it's Rowan. The door shuts sharply. It seems I'm alone with him again.

He moves so quietly, I don't realize he's lifted the champagne to my lips until the glass touches them. I take a few good sips before he removes the glass. Instantly, the liquid buzz goes to my head. Whatever it is, it's some powerful shit.

I hear the glass clink lightly as it's put down somewhere in the room. His movements are so stealthily quiet, I have no idea where he is. I nearly jump out of my sandals when fingers touch the top button on the dress.

"I'm not here to hurt you, just to see if you fill all the qualifications." He's undone two buttons before he finishes. I should be tense with resistance since it seems he is undressing me, but the sip of the drink has softened that instinct to defend myself. I feel myself bending both mentally and physically to the notion of being stripped naked. He is an utter stranger, who is by all accounts a murderer, yet I stand perfectly still as he unbuttons my dress. I breathe in a hint of something pleasant, a cologne or aftershave. The masculine fragrance mixed with his own natural scent sends a surge of heat through me. At the same time cool air brushes across the skin between my breasts. The bodice of the dress is open.

A deep, quiet groan rolls through the room as his fingers part the dress. He takes care not to touch me. I suddenly grit my teeth for a different reason. I want to feel his hands on me. My pussy clenches at the thought of him rubbing his thumb over my erect nipples.

Without warning, his hands lift the skirt of my dress. All the while, I can do nothing except stand and submit to his visual examination. In the darkness of my blindfold, I imagine his eyes surveying my naked body. It makes my pussy surge with moisture.

"It seems you are cinnamon everywhere." His deep, seductive drawl laps at my senses. "Sweet, sweet cinnamon." The silky fabric of the dress slides back down my thighs. I falter forward slightly at the disappointment of not being touched. "And you react so quickly to the drink. That only adds to your perfection." His tone is tighter, less relaxed as if he is straining against his own wave of desire. It only serves to make me hotter.

I feel his finger drag over my shoulder, the heat of it leaves a trail on my skin. With my hands secure behind my back, the spaghetti strap slips down to my elbow. He does the same to the other side. In seconds, I'm standing naked from the waist up. I feel him circling behind me. Any earlier tension in my body is gone. I'm relaxed but at the same time desperate to be satisfied. The throbbing need between my legs only intensifies as his hot breath brushes along my shoulder. I gasp as his fingers barely touch my skin to push my hair aside. His mouth presses against the back of my neck, and his tongue leaves a hot, wet trail behind. I feel vulnerable yet not in danger. A warm, comforting sense of being wanted, being desired fills my chest. It's as if every invisible binding I have to keep me tethered to my real life is being cut and thrown away. I have no idea who I am, but my mind is telling me I want to be his. The rumor about Kane Freestone is true. He's a mad genius, a mad fucking genius.

He gently lifts the straps back up to my shoulders, and with the same patient care, buttons the dress. "Tell me yes or no, my sweet sin."

I'm in such a heightened state of arousal, I'm ready to say yes to anything he asks. The blindfold helps me refocus and find some shred of reality. "How do I say yes, when there's no question?"

"Yes or no," he repeats. "You can walk away from here, return to your life on the street and this will go no further. It's your choice."

The blindfold, the cryptic words, it's no wonder so little is known about the Lace Underground.

"If you wish, I will call Rowan in to untie you. He'll arrange a ride back to the drop off point. And you can put this behind you. Or you can say yes and your life will start afresh. No more sidewalk tents or grimy park bathrooms." He sweeps his finger alongside my cheek to brush the hair off my face. "I need an answer."

This was my assignment. Go undercover and find a way into the Lace Underground. It seemed an impossible task, a long shot and yet the opportunity is right in front of me. I could bring this whole thing down on my own, without men like Clark or Maddox to stand behind me. Or I could walk away and go back to the park and back to the precinct as Detective Tennyson. But then I would have failed.

His phone beeps. "Have my car brought around, Rowan. I think we're done here."

"Yes." The word blips off my lips in a quick succession of letters. "Yes," I say again.

"Good choice." The door opens and shuts. It seems the room is empty.

I take a deep breath and try to process the intensity of the last few minutes but I can't.