Gabe’s heat causes my neck to loosen slightly, but I manage to keep my head upright, locking eyes with Banks over his shoulder. Then Tobias. Neither one of them is moving. Only their eyes, tracking mine and Gabe’s movements on the dancefloor.

“I want to know your story now, Elise.”

That pronouncement from Gabe brings me up short, my steps faltering, but he only holds me tighter and continues to move in a slow, swaying circle. “What do you mean?”

His thumb finds a home in one of the dimples at the small of my back, presses deep, deeper, until my ankles turn to vapor. “I mean…we all want to know you. Everything about you.” He puffs a laugh that sounds more frustrated than anything. “Elise, I’m not going to lie…” His swallow is loud in my ear. “Not knowing every goddamn thing about you is driving us all a little insane. You barely agreed to see us again, so I’m…we’re trying not to push.”

My pulse is starting to race. “I don’t understand.”

“You sell sandwiches? Fine. It’s a respectable job. Except you pretended to be a reporter. You’re chasing this story and you’re not supposed to be. Please don’t get pissed at me for saying this, but you don’t seem like the type to do anything backwards.”

“I have to use the ladies room,” I blurt, disengaging myself from Gabe on the dancefloor. A lot of guests are watching us with avid interest, so I pull him down for a kiss. One. Two of them. “I’ll be right back.”

“Elise…” Gabe curses under his breath. “I pushed too soon.”

“I’ll be back,” I say again, throat dry. And then I’m weaving through a sea of tuxedos with a smile tacked onto my face. Tobias and Banks frown at my departure, pushing off the bar as if to follow me, but I shake my head at them, mouthing the word “bathroom.” Still, they don’t settle, but there is nothing I can do to allay their worries right now.

I’m too busy having an identity crisis.

Men outnumber women ten to one at this party, so the upstairs ladies room is relatively empty. Two older women end their discussion when I walk inside and leave through the still-swinging door. I prop my hands on the sink and meet my own eyes in the mirror, Gabe’s voice echoing in my head. You don’t seem like the type to do anything backwards.

Funny, that’s exactly who I am. These days, anyway. Not always.

I wasn’t always like this.

Two voices reach me through the bathroom door and my chin snaps up, sending my troubling thoughts scattering like picnic goers in a rainstorm. I know those voices. Recognize them well. One of them belongs to Deputy Mayor Alexander. The other is Jameson Crouch. Gabe’s boss, to be specific. Of course, they’re both at this party, but meeting alone on a separate floor at the end of a dark hallway? To say people would find it suspicious is an understatement.