‘I believe it concerns your room charges. If you’ll follow me please.’

Danny shoots his wife a worried look. She shrugs, too weak to protest. ‘What can they do?’

They follow the pit boss across the casino floor to a private door hidden among the satin vermilion drapes.

The hydraulic door hisses open. ‘Up the stairs, please.’

‘What’s up the stairs?’

‘My manager. Now please, ma’am—’

A brass spiral staircase beckons. Sia goes first, her husband right behind her, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Ben Merchant is waiting for them atop the landing, a Cheshire cat smile splitting his pasty complexion. ‘Well, good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz.’ The heavy Louisiana drawl is as cheery as it is false.

‘About the room charges … can you just bill us? I promise we’ll—’

‘Tut-tut … all room charges have already been taken care of.’

Sia looks at Danny, then back at Merchant.

‘The two of you are lucky, very lucky indeed. It seems someone up there likes you.’ Merchant points a manicured finger toward the ceiling. ‘A guardian angel.’

‘I don’t understand,’ says Sia. ‘Who are you?’

‘The name’s Merchant, Benjamin Merchant, but you, dear Sylvia, may call me Ben. I have been and remain the private secretary and personal confidant of Mrs. Lucien Mabus, but for tonight, I’ll be your exclusive escort as you venture upward to Paradise Lost.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Paradise Lost, darlin’. A wondrous place just north of heaven. Come, dear cherubs, your chariot awaits.’ Merchant leads them down a short hall to a private glass elevator. ‘This lift will take you straight to the penthouse. Mrs. Mabus’ll be waiting for you there.’

‘Mrs. Mabus wants to see us?’

‘Nothing to fear, Danny Boy. Like I said, this is your lucky day. All your financial woes are about to disappear.’

Danny looks at Sia, then back to Merchant, who is holding the elevator door open, beckoning them in. The couple enters.

‘Bon voyage.’ The doors close on Merchant’s smile, sealing them in darkness.

‘Danny?’ Sia grabs his arm as the lift races skyward.

The elevator stops before they can exhale. The doors part.

Sparkling before them—the Miami skyline—a tapestry of mirrored skyscrapers blazing in rainbows of neon beneath a clear autumn night. Mesmerized, they step out onto the polished onyx-marble floor.

The elevator door hisses closed behind them.

‘Hello?’ Uncertain, they leave the alcove and enter a living room, the plush carpet the color of sable, the leather furniture and wraparound bar done in various shades of red. Immense bay windows wrap around 360 degrees.

‘I’m Lilith.’

Danny turns to see a woman pouring drinks behind the bar. The vixen’s skin is chocolate, her hair the color of pitch, long and wavy, trailing down her back. ‘Lucien wishes he could be here to greet you, but he’s been sick lately, poor dear.’