Chapter 1 - THE ROOM THAT STOPPED LAUGHING
“Why?”
Adrian Moretti’s question was quiet enough that Claire almost wished he had shouted.
Shouting she understood.
Shouting could be laughed off.
The way he looked at her could not.
Claire stood beside his table with sixty people suddenly pretending not to stare at her.
Behind her, the shattered drinking glass still glittered near the bar.
She swallowed.
“Why what?”
“Why did you kiss me?”
Claire pointed weakly toward the birthday table.
“Two hundred dollars.”
Adrian’s eyes moved past her.
Tyler stopped breathing.
Claire immediately regretted pointing.
“It was just a dare.”
“From him?”
“Yes.”
Tyler gave a nervous little wave that somehow made everything worse.
Adrian stood.
Claire had thought he looked intimidating seated.
Standing was different.
He was several inches taller than she was, broad through the shoulders without looking like someone who spent his life trying to prove it, and almost unnervingly calm.
One of the men who had entered approached.
“Mr. Moretti. The car is ready.”
Claire closed her eyes briefly.
Of course.
Of course she had not kissed an accountant named Greg.
She had kissed Adrian Moretti.
Danny Sullivan had once explained the Moretti family to her in exactly eleven words.
“They own half the things smart people don’t ask about.”
Claire had laughed then.
She was not laughing now.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Adrian continued watching her.
“It was stupid.”
“Yes.”
Claire blinked.
“You could pretend to disagree.”
“I could.”
Behind her, Tyler pushed back his chair.
The dark-coated man looked toward him.
Tyler immediately stopped.
Claire saw fear spread across his face.
Real fear.
Not birthday-game fear.
She moved before she could reconsider.
“No.”
The security man looked at her.
Claire stepped between him and Tyler.
Nobody in the tavern seemed to remember how to breathe.
“They didn’t force me,” she said.
Her voice trembled.
She hated that.
She kept talking anyway.
“Tyler’s an idiot, but I walked over here. I kissed you. If you’re angry, be angry at me.”
Adrian’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“You think Victor is going to hurt him?”
Claire glanced at Victor.
Victor looked almost offended.
“I have no idea what Victor does.”
Danny made a sound behind the bar that might have been a cough.
Adrian looked at Claire again.
“You’re defending the person who put you in this position.”
“I put me in this position.”
For the first time, something in Adrian’s expression changed.
Not quite a smile.
Interest.
Then Tyler’s phone vibrated against the wooden table.
Tyler grabbed for it too quickly.
Victor noticed.
So did Adrian.
“What’s wrong?” Claire asked.
“Nothing,” Tyler said.
His voice cracked.
Adrian turned his head.
Across the bar, a man near the jukebox lowered his phone.
No.
Not a phone.
A compact professional camera.
The man saw Adrian looking and immediately moved toward the exit.
Victor spoke into his sleeve.
“South door.”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
Adrian held up one hand.
“No scene.”
Victor stopped.
That command changed Claire’s understanding of him more than anything else had.
Everyone expected Adrian Moretti to create fear.
Instead, he seemed determined not to give the room what it was waiting for.
Adrian looked at Tyler.
“How long have you known that photographer?”
Tyler went pale.
“I don’t.”
“Adrian,” Claire said, “it was seriously just some stupid dare.”
His eyes returned to her.
“Maybe.”
Tyler’s phone vibrated again.
Megan leaned over.
“Tyler?”
He shoved the device into his pocket.
“I need the bathroom.”
“You’ve been drinking for two hours without going once,” Claire said.
Tyler glared at her.
“Thank you, bladder detective.”
Normally Claire would have laughed.
Now she noticed his hands.
They were shaking.
Adrian noticed too.
“Victor.”
Victor did not approach Tyler.
He simply said, “Do you want to leave?”
Tyler stared at him.
“What?”
“You’re free to leave.”
The whole table seemed confused.
Tyler hesitated.
Then grabbed his coat.
“Yeah. Fine.”
He moved quickly toward the front door.
Megan called after him.
He ignored her.
Claire watched him disappear into the Chicago night.
“That was weird.”
Adrian picked up his sparkling water.
“You’re observant.”
“I’m a waitress.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I know when somebody’s trying to leave before the check comes.”
That earned her the smallest smile.
Claire felt an absurd rush of triumph.
Then remembered who he was.
“Are you going to have me murdered now?”
Victor actually coughed.
Adrian stared at her.
Claire winced.
“That sounded funnier in my head.”
“I imagine many things do.”
“Frequently.”
He reached for his coat.
Claire stepped back.
“Again, I’m sorry.”
Adrian put on the coat.
“Don’t kiss strangers for money.”
“Excellent advice.”
“And collect your two hundred.”
Claire laughed despite herself.
“There’s no chance Tyler pays me now.”
Adrian looked toward the door Tyler had used.
Something in his face hardened again.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
He left with Victor.
Only after the doors closed did sound return to Sullivan’s.
Everyone started speaking at once.
Megan grabbed Claire.
“What is wrong with you?”
“I could ask you the same thing. It’s your family.”
Danny came around the bar.
“You kissed Adrian Moretti.”
“I’ve received that update.”
“Claire.”
“Danny, if you're going to lecture me, can I at least get fries?”
Danny didn’t smile.
“That photographer wasn’t normal.”
Claire glanced toward the jukebox.
“You noticed him too?”
“He came in twenty minutes before Moretti.”
“So?”
“He didn’t order.”
“What kind of monster comes into a bar and doesn’t order?”
“Claire.”
She stopped joking.
Danny wiped his hands on a towel.
“He asked which table had the best view of the back corner.”
Claire looked toward Adrian’s empty seat.
Her stomach turned.
Megan whispered, “Maybe press?”
“Maybe.”
Claire picked up her coat.
“I’m going home.”
Megan offered to come.
Claire refused.
Outside, cold Chicago air sobered her instantly.
The street shone from an earlier rain.
She had walked half a block when a black sedan slowed beside her.
Claire’s pulse jumped.
The window lowered.
Victor sat inside.
“Ms. Bennett.”
“Nope.”
He blinked.
“Nope?”
“I’m not getting into that car.”
“I wasn't asking you to.”
“Oh.”
Victor held something through the open window.
A folded twenty-dollar bill?
No.
An envelope.
Claire did not take it.
“What is that?”
“Your friend dropped it beneath his chair.”
“Tyler?”
“Yes.”
Claire finally accepted it.
Inside was cash.
Ten crisp hundred-dollar bills.
Her mouth went dry.
“This isn't mine.”
“No.”
“What is it?”
“We don't know.”
Victor nodded toward the envelope.
“Mr. Moretti thought you should see what your two-hundred-dollar dare was apparently worth to somebody else.”
Claire stared.
“One thousand dollars?”
Victor nodded.
“Tyler left before collecting his coat from the checkroom.”
“So?”
“People usually remember their coat in Chicago.”
The window began rising.
“Wait.”
Victor paused.
“Am I in danger?”
His answer took half a second too long.
“We don't know.”
Then he drove away.
Claire stood alone beneath a streetlight holding a thousand dollars that did not belong to her.
The next morning, her phone contained forty-seven missed calls.
Her face was on three local entertainment sites.
One headline called her Adrian Moretti’s mystery woman.
Another called her a drunken stranger.
Her diner manager had texted:
DO NOT COME IN UNTIL WE TALK.
And buried beneath everything was a message from Tyler.
Claire opened it.
One photograph.
His phone screen.
A payment notification for ten thousand dollars from a company called Lakeshore Civic Strategies.
Below it was a text from an unknown number.
MAKE HIM REACT.
CAMERAS WILL BE READY.
Claire stared at the words.
Then another message arrived.
May you like
Tyler:
Claire, the dare wasn’t my idea.
