The bar Cain took me to wasn't a bar.
It was a speakeasy hidden behind a vintage bookstore in the West Village, the kind of place you needed a password to enter and a trust fund to afford. Dark leather booths, dim amber lighting, jazz playing so softly it felt like a secret between you and the piano.
I didn't belong here any more than I'd belonged at that wedding.
"Whiskey," Cain told the bartender without asking what I wanted. "Macallan 25. Neat. Two glasses."
The bartender nodded like he'd been expecting us.
I slid into the booth across from him, suddenly aware of how I must look mascara-streaked face, ratty jeans, leather jacket that had seen better days. Everyone else here looked like they'd stepped out of a fashion magazine.
Cain hadn't taken his eyes off me since we'd walked in.
"So." He leaned back, perfectly relaxed in a way that suggested he owned the place. Maybe he did. "Want to tell me why you really crashed that wedding?"
"I already told you. He called me drunk, confessing his undying love"
"That's what you did. Not why." The whiskey arrived. He pushed one glass toward me. "There's a difference."
I took a long drink, letting the burn ground me. "He broke me. I wanted to break him back."
"And did you?"
"I don't know." I stared into the amber liquid. "I thought I would feel better. Vindicated. But I just feel… empty."
Cain studied me with those dark, unreadable eyes. "Revenge is like that. It promises satisfaction but delivers nothing."
"Speaking from experience?"
His smile was razor-sharp. "Always."
Something in his tone made me look up. Really look. The expensive suit, the casual confidence, the way the bartender had treated him like royalty. The way he held himself like someone used to getting exactly what he wanted.
"What do you do, Cain?"
"I acquire things."
"That's vague."
"It's accurate." He took a drink, never breaking eye contact. "Companies, properties, opportunities. I see something I want, I figure out what it costs, and I take it."
"Sounds lonely."
"It's efficient." He set down his glass. "Emotions complicate transactions. Make people do stupid things. Like crash weddings."
"You said I was brave."
"I said you were brave or insane. Jury's still out."
I should've been offended. Instead, I laughed really laughed for the first time in months. It felt rusty, like I'd forgotten how.
Cain's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "There it is."
"What?"
"The real you. Not the vengeful ex or the broken girl. Just… Raven."
The way he said my name made my stomach flip.
I drained my glass, liquid courage flooding my system. "Why did you really bring me here?"
"Because you're interesting."
"You said that already."
"And I meant it." He leaned forward, close enough that I could smell his cologne something dark and expensive that probably cost more than my monthly rent. "Most people I meet are predictable. They want something from me money, connections, opportunities. But you? You crashed a wedding in ripped jeans and played a voice message that destroyed a man's life without a second thought. You're chaos personified."
"And you like chaos?"
"I like people who aren't afraid to burn bridges." His smile turned predatory. "Question is what are you going to do now?"
"What do you mean?"
"You just made yourself the villain in two hundred people's story. That video is probably already circulating on social media. By tomorrow, you'll be infamous. The Psycho Ex Who Ruined The Sterling Wedding."
My stomach dropped. I hadn't thought about that. Hadn't thought past the satisfaction of exposing Damien's lies.
"I…" My voice came out small. "I don't know."
"Do you have a job?"
"I'm a freelance graphic designer."
"Let me rephrase do you have clients who will still hire you after this?"
The panic must've shown on my face because his expression shifted not quite sympathy, but something close.
"I didn't think so." He signaled the bartender for another round. "Rich people talk, Raven. And the Sterlings? They're connected. Old money, old power. Victoria Sterling will make sure you never work in this city again."
"Why are you telling me this?" Tears pricked my eyes again. "To make me feel worse?"
"To make you an offer."
I blinked. "What?"
Cain reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card. Heavy cardstock, minimalist design. Just a name CAIN MORETTI and a phone number.
"Work for me."
"Doing what?"
"I'm acquiring a company. The CEO is… resistant. Refuses to meet with me, won't return calls, has his assistant screen everything." His smile was all teeth. "But he's getting married in two weeks. Big society wedding. His fiancée is from old money the kind of woman who would be devastated if something disrupted her perfect day."
Understanding dawned cold and terrible. "You want me to crash another wedding."
"I want you to do what you do best create chaos when it's most effective." He pushed the card across the table. "Do this for me, and I'll pay you fifty thousand dollars. Plus, I'll use my connections to make sure the Sterling situation blows over. Money and reputation your two biggest problems solved."
I stared at the card like it might bite me. "You want to hire me as a professional wedding crasher."
"I want to hire you as a disruptor. Someone who isn't afraid to do what others won't." He leaned back. "Think about it. You're already the villain. Might as well get paid for it."
"This is insane."
"You said you were both brave and insane."
His dark eyes glittered. "Prove it."
The rational part of my brain screamed to say no. To walk away. To call this what it was a deal with the devil in a thousand-dollar suit.
But the rational part of my brain hadn't been driving for a while now.
"Fifty thousand?" I heard myself ask.
"Plus expenses. Plus I fix your reputation problem."
"And if I say no?"
"Then you walk out of here and spend the next six months watching your life crumble while Victoria Sterling salts the earth behind you." He shrugged. "Your choice."
It wasn't really a choice at all.
I picked up the card. Turned it over in my fingers. The weight of it felt significant, like I was holding more than just cardstock.
"One wedding," I said.
"One wedding."
"And then we're done."
His smile suggested he knew something I didn't. "If that's what you want."
I should've asked more questions. Should've gotten it in writing. Should've done a dozen things differently.
Instead, I extended my hand across the table. "Deal."
His grip was warm, firm, and absolutely certain.
"Welcome to the dark side, Raven." He lifted his glass. "You're going to fit right in."
We drank, and I tried to ignore the voice in my head screaming that I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life.
But mistakes were kind of my specialty at this point.