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“That again?” she whispers.

I nod, unable to find the words to explain how much pain I still carry from her loss.

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry.”

Alisa’s hand runs comfortingly down my back.

They both know what happened. Everyone in our inner circle does. But to the outside world, my mom had a nervous breakdown and killed herself.

I had to play along. There was no choice. But everything in me wants to scream the truth, to let the world know what that monster did to her.

“I’m fine now, guys.” I force the biggest grin I can muster, even though pretending the way I am is choking me. “Let’s go check out the rest of the place.”

The last thing I want to do today is remember how badly I failed her. I do that enough already.

They loop their arms through mine, guiding me down another hallway until we stop in front of the last door on the right. A woman stands in front of a group of maybe twenty people, her confident stance commanding the room.

“What do you think’s going to happen in here?” Alisa whispers behind me, the sound of her curiosity mixing with the beat of the music.

“I don’t know,” I answer just as the woman’s voice cuts through the air.

“Welcome to the art of touch, where you will be paired at random and learn to explore each other’s bodies.”

Whoa.

A wave of nervous energy washes over me as I step forward, crossing the threshold into the room.

“You’ll each be given items to use in whatever way you wish,” she adds as she gestures toward a table filled with black string bags.

“This sounds intense,” Natalia murmurs in my ear.

“Excuse me?” the woman calls out, her face hidden behind an intricate red-and-gold lace mask. “Will you be joining us before we close the doors?”

I freeze, unsure of what I’m stepping into.

“Do it!” Alisa urges. “We’ll wait by the bar.”

She pushes me forward, and as she does, my gaze lands on the man walking right toward me.

Not just any man.

Cillian.

He’s here.

My stomach tightens, air catching in my throat. He locks eyes with me, that signature smirk tugging at his lips, and my heart skips a beat.

His approach is slow, deliberate, and with every step, every inch of me becomes more aware. It’s like he’s got a hold on me, pulling me toward him with every movement.

“She’ll stay.” His tone is deep and commanding, leaving no space for argument.

And in this moment, there’s no place I’d rather be.

I can barely focus on anything else, the weight of his presence consuming me as he stops right in front of me. My body goes weak, like it recognizes him before I do.

“Glad you decided to join us. Please shut the door,” the woman tells me, but I can’t tear my gaze away from Cillian.

He shuts it for me before taking my hand, dragging me toward the corner of the room, guiding me behind a crowd of people. His arm slides around my hips, pressing me into his side.