“I think that’s a good idea. It’s likely to alarm him when he sees his own damnation coming for him.” Plus, Zee could glamour everyone around him. Ursula pulled her pen from her purse, ready to charm the pants off Hugo.

Zee open the door, and Ursula lingered in the doorway, keeping in the shadows—just like a good hellhound.

“Oh hi, Zee!” Virginie trilled, throwing her arms in the air. “I didn’t know you were going to be at the Opera tonight.”

“Hi, Virginie.” Zee’s glamour was utterly convincing. Too bad Hugo wasn’t there.

Zee’s hand flew to her chest. “Where’s your gorgeous date?”

“He went to the little boy’s room.”

Ursula began to slip away. Of course. That’s where I have all my traumatic encounters with pop stars.

The theater’s lights flickered, signaling the end of intermission. Show time, Ursula. She turned, hurrying through the hall, the bone-colored pen clutched tight in her fist.

A few stragglers rushed back to their seats in the corridor. At the end of the hall, Ursula spied a door labeled Men in gold lettering. No bodyguards—good. That would simplify things.

Ursula swallowed hard, trying not to think about fire. She glanced behind her to make sure no one was around, then slipped inside.

Gilded moldings and pictures of famous opera singers decorated the walls.

“Hello?” she called out in her most soothing voice. “Hugo, darling?”

Only the sound of dripping water greeted her, and the faint swell of violins from the orchestra. Shit.

Ursula’s mind raced through the possibilities. If he’d returned to his box, she would have seen him in the corridor. He wouldn’t have just left Virginie alone at the opera while he went somewhere else, would he?

Actually, that did seem like something he’d do. This was a guy who’d dumped his girlfriend for wearing the wrong swimsuit.

But, no—his jacket had been hanging on the back of his chair in the box. He had to be here.

Maybe he’d gone out for a smoke? She turned, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her auburn hair was piled on her head in a glamorous up-do, a few tendrils cascading over her pale shoulders. If she couldn’t lure Hugo into his own damnation looking like this, she’d never get anyone to sign.

She turned, eyeing the stalls. The doors reached the floor, so she couldn’t peer under them. Instead, she began pushing them open, one by one. The doors creaked as she opened them. “Hugo, my love. I’ve been wanting to see you again.” Creak. “I thought perhaps I could explain things better.” Creak. “Maybe over some wine—”

From the furthest stall, a sucking sound interrupted her investigation. What the hell?

“Hugo, darling?” she said in her most soothing voice. “Is that you?”