I sighed, knowing there was always a catch with her. "Alright. I'm listening."
Carrie didn't answer. Instead, she gestured toward the woman in black. "You can take it over, Luna."
Luna shifted in her seat, the movement silent and fluid. She fixed her dark eyes on mine, her calm expression never wavering. "I'd like to rent you for an hour, Evan."
The word hung in the air, clashing with the sophisticated music of the string quartet. I blinked, sure I'd misheard. "Rent me? I'm sorry, am I a tuxedo now?"
"Yes," Luna said, her voice calculated and cool.
"For... what, exactly?"
"For a good reason," she replied, her gaze moving slowly over my shoulders as if she were appraising a piece of furniture.
I felt the "Villain" tag prickle at my neck. "Okay? Look, as long as there's no weird shit involved."
Luna tilted her head slightly. "Define 'weird shit,' please."
"No strap-on play. No weird femdom kinks. I have a reputation to maintain, believe it or not."
