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Vince lowers himself into his seat. “I knew you were a little spitfire.” He points a finger, grinning. “The moment I saw you, I knew.”

My stomach does that little drop again. “When did you see me?”

But he doesn’t answer that. He just looks over my head, tipping it slightly.

The slight man in a suit who appears next to the table holds a bottle of wine stiffly against him. He looks like a career server. The kind of person who’d bend over backward to ensure you had the best dining experience of your life. Only he must be forgetting his customer service training, because he doesn’t meet either of our eyes as he upturns our wine glasses and fills them, then lays the menu cards before us.

“Madam, sir. I’ll leave this with you to decide—”

“She’ll decide now,” Vincent says. “You can wait.”

My skin prickles. I smile at the server. “I’ll actually need a minute, thank you.”

The man freezes, looking between Vince and me. It’s only then I notice his forehead is beaded with sweat, the wine jiggling in the bottle.

Fuck.

I look to Vince, who’s fixing the man with a stone-cold stare.

And suddenly, my blood runs cold. The hostess wasn’t intimidated. She was nervous, like this server.

Just like Sam.

My date isn’t just a creep. He’s someone people are scared of.

“I won’t be long,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. I pick up the menu, pretending to study it.

My mind races.

Those newspaper articles they keep printing about my brother—I don’t ignore them like my parents, who act like theNew York Timesis some trashy tabloid. I’ve read them all. Thinly veiled allegations that Senator Macklin doesn’t vote in an unbiased manner. Suggestions that he’s accepting bribes. That he funded his campaign with dirty money.

I didn’t want to believe that he’s in deep with the wrong people. But how can I deny it anymore when he’s associating with people like Vince?

I grab the glass of water next to my menu and slowly sip it, stalling. Off the balcony and across the street, the sushi place sparkles just out of reach. People there eat and laugh. They’re going about their lives, having fun, unaware someone’s in trouble only a hundred feet away.

I glance briefly at the man before me, my heart beating hard in my chest. The server clutches the wine bottle next to me like it’s a life ring. He wants me to set him free.

Vince. Where do I know someone with that name? I try to run through the articles.

Vince.

Lines from the articles run across my mind like ticker tape.Preferential deals…connections to criminal organizations…a man known to police, questioned for his involvement in sex-trafficking allegations—Vincent Creelman.

Vincent.

Vince.

I choke, water threatening to slip out between my lips.

Vincent slides my napkin toward me.

Panic wraps a hand around my throat, but I take the cloth, dabbing at my mouth. “Just went down the wrong way.”

The server refills my water with a shaky hand.

My brother set me up with a criminal.

Sam knew what he was doing. Anger stokes a fire in my chest, distracting me from my breaking heart.