Everett called a Town Car when Axel disappeared inside of the restaurant, and the car arrived in less than five minutes.

Everett beats the driver to the chase and opens the back door for us, allowing me to slide in first. I'm careful as I awkwardly shimmy across the slick leather in my tight-as-hell dress. Everett slides right up against me, placing his mouth near my ear. "I have to say, you make that dress look like every other dress in the world should burn with embarrassment.”

Taking his compliment silently, I comb my fingers through my loose curls, not knowing what I should say in return. Everett hasn't been shy with his flirtatious manner, but I’m wondering if it is just his personality, or if there is more going through his head. I believe my answers are slowly rolling in, however.

A groan rumbles from Everett's chest as he breaks the stare I have felt burning against the side of my face.

Spending the first few years of my twenties ignored by most men due to the nature of the business I’ve been associated with, I’ve become accustomed to the dark tunnel of loneliness. This attention is new, and while hard for me to accept, it isn't the most unfortunate situation in the world. Both Axel and Everett are incredibly good-looking men, and almost any woman in my situation would feel like the luckiest lady in the world. However, it's more than a little important to remember why I'm here, and it isn't to be the bachelorette of choice.

We pull up to a tall building with blue and black windows that stretch up to what seems like a mile above us. The building is sleek looking and surrounded by clean, white cement. A doorman in a red suit is standing outside of the revolving front door that flashes with a sparkle bouncing off the interior marbled floors.

The doorman spots us as the car settles into park, and tends to my door first. I feel out of my element as he reaches his gloved hand inside to help me out, but I try to remind myself I'm in a pricey dress that doesn't leave much room for error, and a hand is a lovely gesture at the moment. It’s an odd feeling, living like royalty after I've been responsible for a number of deaths this week and was hungry and homeless just a few days ago. I’m not sure how this has become my life.

I'm escorted around the car and brought up to the revolving doors where Everett is waiting as if he were my husband, or something other than a co-worker, and it’s an odd feeling—one I can see Everett doesn’t mind one bit. The doorman tips his head toward us, and Everett whispers in his direction as he shakes his hand.

This feels wrong. I saw the discontent in Axel's eyes when he was forced to attend dinner alone, and I'm now wondering if this was Everett’s idea all along. In any case, I can assume he doesn’t know that Axel and I screwed earlier, or he wouldn't be layering the charm on so thickly right now.

While escorted into the small, quiet restaurant that’s lined with a row of crystal chandeliers and dark hardwood floors, we’re greeted by the bone-chilling sound of silverware gently tapping against china, and the mouth-watering scents of lemon and ginger. We’re seated almost immediately and brought over to a kitty-cornered booth with a small table in the shape of a half-circle.

"You think Axel is doing okay?" I ask Everett through a whisper. I’m truly curious but also bringing back the reminder that we are not on a date. It feels necessary to make that clear, judging by the ambiance and the other couples surrounding us who all seem to be gazing at one another in trance-like states.

"Of course he’s okay. He's Axel. Axel is always ‘okay,'" he says, curling his fingers into air quotes.

"What does that mean?" I press.

"You never quite know what's going through his head. It's probably one of the reasons he was in the psych ward for so long." I almost forgot Axel mentioned this little tidbit of information before I was sent in to silently convince Shawnda she'd be better off dead.

"Why was he in a psychiatric hospital?" Axel has told me he’s innocent, but I feel like there is more information, though I’m sure Everett won't divulge it.

"It was part of his plea bargain during his trial for homicide." Regardless of having no right to blink at the word homicide, I do so anyway.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Honestly, I'm still not sure." This will be the second time I've pressured Everett for information about Axel, but he's either telling the truth or awfully loyal to him.

"Hmm," is all I can manage to respond with.

"We don't need to talk about Axel tonight," he suggests as his arm wraps around me and picks at my woven bracelet. "You never take this thing off, huh? Must be from someone special.”

Between his words, assumptions, and proximity of his breath tickling the side of my neck, I immediately shrug him away. "Everett," I say, lowering my shoulder out of his hold. "This isn't a good idea."

He clears his throat and straightens his jacket, definitely uncomfortable as he scoots over a few inches to put some space between us. "I'm so, so sorry. I—”

"It's fine, really, no need to be sorry,” I tell him. I need air, and a lot of it.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks. There's something so innocent about the male brain when it comes to women. It's like they have every ounce of confidence a person could have up until the moment they experience rejection, and then the sound of glass smashing against a hard floor echoes deafeningly in the center of their heads. As the heartbreaker in this situation, I can't help feeling a load of guilt for turning him down.

"No, you haven't done anything wrong. I'm just not someone you should want to get involved with." That's honest, but if it were entirely honest, I would also have said the same to Axel.

"I know the truth," he says. "I know who you are and that you're hiding. I get it. We've all been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I find myself staring through Everett as a waitress places a couple glasses of water down in front of us.

"I’ll give you two another few minutes to look over the menu,” she offers with a small smile.

"Thank you,” Everett responds to her.

Once the waitress is out of hearing distance, I respond to Everett’s comment.

"Hiding is temporary," I tell him.

"It doesn't have to be," he argues.

"Yes, it does. For me, it has to be."

Everett remains quiet for longer than he has since the moment I met him. Whether it’s rejection or something else causing the silence, I'm not sure, but it's disconcerting to make him or anyone upset while I'm in the situation I'm currently in. I can’t even fathom what would happen if he were to find out about what went on between Axel and me.

"So, do you two travel a lot?" I ask, remembering I already asked them this question earlier.

"Yes, we told you so earlier," he responds, keeping his answer short, as I expected he would.

"Okay." I open my menu, trying to focus on the list of options, but nothing looks appealing, as I'm not a huge fan of sushi. "I'll have whatever you’re having." My cop-out answer to having no idea what I'd be ordering anyway.

When the waitress returns, Everett places an order in what sounds like Japanese, and I add on the tempura vegetables for safe measure since I'm starving.

As the waitress collects our menus, Everett's phone buzzes from on top of the table, and I naturally glance over with curiosity, but I’m not surprised to see a dark screen hiding whatever had popped up. Figures.

He glances up in thought before nodding his head and typing something into his phone.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"It's Axel."

"That was fast. Is he already done with his meeting?"

"I guess so, but it has been a while since we left him. It took us almost an hour to get through traffic while making our way over to this restaurant." I suppose I didn't account for the travel time, but he's right. Then of course, we've been having an awkward conversation for the past thirty minutes on top of it all.

"He'll be joining us as soon as he can make his way here. He probably has a jet for that too," Everett mutters the last part.

"I'm really sorry, Everett. I hope I didn't do anything to lead you on or—”

"Honestly, it's fine. Axel's probably reeling you in for himself anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"Never mind." Everett hasn't been the type to become angered easily but it seems like he's on the cusp of losing his shit right now.

"Everett, I'm not going to beat around the bush here; I'm getting frustrated and annoyed. I have no idea what the hell you two are doing, what kind of business you are truly running, or why you even wanted me to work with you in the first place, but I need some answers, and I need them now."

"What do you want to know, Harley?"

"How about starting at the beginning."

Everett takes his jacket off and I can't help but wonder if he's feeling the heat from the conversation too.

"Look, it's just not my place, okay?" he says.

"How not? How is it you have no problem sitting here, putting the smooth moves on me, and yet you can't give me answers? Or maybe, you'd only give me answers if I played into your come-on.”

"That's a low blow," he snaps.

"So is this," I retort. "I've officially had it with you two, and I want to go home. I'd rather be homeless on the street than put up with the secrets and the whole torturing bit. I'm over it."

"Harley, just relax a minute," Everett says. His demeanor completely changes as if I said some magic words to change his attitude.

"No, I'm leaving. I'll find a way home, or maybe I'll just roam these streets for a while here."

I slide out of the booth and try my damnedest not to trip in these goddamn, unnecessary heels. Thankfully, I manage to make it outside in one piece and look in both directions without an idea of where to go. Here's a new one—a homeless woman in what must be a three-thousand-dollar dress.

A right turn leads me to a corner, and while balancing on my toes, I jog up a set of steps, finding more streets webbing off the other side of the platform I’m on. I know it's only a matter of time before Everett is back in my tracks, so I need to move quickly.

The short streets I take seem to put a good distance between the restaurant and me, but I can hear a faint shouting of my name in the distance. There are so many buildings that it seems like everything in this city echoes.

Without any other ideas for hiding, I duck into a shady-looking bar, finding it moderately full. At least there are enough people in here that I won't be easily spotted.