I made my way up the steps that I thought were possibly the dumbest thing you could put in a place that served liquor. Save for maybe a chapel.

I mean, the liability alone of allowing drunk people to stumble up and then potentially fall to their deaths or disfigurement sounded like a headache I’d rather avoid entirely.

That said, it was kind of a great view.

I leaned on the railing, looking down at the floor below, picturing a sought-after DJ on the stage, hands dancing back and forth on the turntables as the crowd threw up their hands and moved their bodies against strangers.

Honestly, it was a shame Renzo sat on this place as long as he had. The neighborhood could use a decent club.

Once I was sure I’d seen all there was to see, I made my way back out and walked down to the closest pharmacy, grumbling at the hair dye aisle.

Until I found it.

Semi-permanent dye.

I could just… dye it each time I needed to see this Soren guy, then shampoo it out right after.

I could keep my promise to Renzo while not compromising my identity.

Feeling lighter, I made my way back to my apartment in one of the largest buildings in the area. I liked the hustle and bustle. The more neighbors you had, the less I found they gave a shit about what you did or when you came and went.

I didn’t have to water anybody’s plants or sign for their packages. And I didn’t have to feel one iota of embarrassment sitting in the laundry room reading a book with a shirtless man on the cover with a title like Railed by the Rival Warlord while eating my spicy chips and drinking a chocolate milk. Because I didn’t give a damn who saw me and what they thought.

That said, my apartment was absolutely my little slice of paradise in a loud, busy, often ugly and dirty city.

Don’t get me wrong; I loved the loud, busy, ugly, and dirtiness of it. But I’d spent my entire life not having a place to call my own. So once I got grown-up money and could get an apartment, I spent months decorating it just how I wanted. Did it mean I also gave building rules and my security the middle finger? Absolutely. But I didn’t regret it for a second.

I was met immediately with the scent of my place.

Strawberry sweet cream.

It was the same scent I washed my body with and slathered all over my skin afterward. But only at night before bed. Because make no mistake, if I showed up to work smelling like strawberry sweet cream, one of the guys would have something to say about it.