Page 27 of Steel Beauty

Fuck, he gives me the ick.

As I suffered through it, my mind kept drifting back to Caesar and his invitation.

I’ll be at the Rabbit Hole again tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. It’s Retro Rhythms night. A throwback to’70s and’80s music. There’ll be dancing in the back room. Come. Wear your dancing shoes.

His words have been stuck in my head all day, looping like a broken record.

It would be foolish to go. Seeing him again isn’t worth risking everything I’ve worked for. I’ve invested too much of myself in this job to throw it all away on a man I just met, no matter how much he pulls me in. These are the things I keep telling myself.

Violet’s words echo in my mind.This guy’s a client, Mags. And he’s been matched with someone else. You’re playing with fire here.

By the time dinner ends, I feel resolute. I can’t see him again. I won’t. It’s the only right choice if I want to keep my life intact.

Back at the hotel, I kick off my shoes and strip away the day, slipping out of my clothes so I can throw on pajamas and call it a night. But when I open the closet, my eyes catch on a dress—the shimmering one I packed on a whim.

Under the soft light, its metallic tones shift between champagne and gold, the fabric practically glowing. The sleek high neckline gives it a modern edge, while the sleeveless cut and mini length hint at both disco and new wave vibes. It would be ideal for Retro Rhythms Night at the Rabbit Hole.

I pull it out and hold it up in front of me, facing the mirror. I can already imagine it with platform shoes, bold red lipstick, and smoky eyes—blending eras, exactly like the theme of the night.

The shimmer catches the light just right as I smooth my hands over the fabric. “What a shame to let a dress like this go to waste.”

I slip the dress back into the closet and sit on the edge of the bed, my thoughts swirling. Ghosting Caesar wouldn’t be right—not after he invited me. That’s not who I am. A small voice in my head insists I owe him at least that much.

I’ll go––just for a little while––so I can explain. I’ll make it clear that it isn’t right to see him while he’s matched with Cleopatra. She paid as much as he did. And no matter how much I want to explore what’s between us, I can’t.

Yes, that’s the plan.

The gold dress glides over my skin, a shimmering second layer that catches the low hotel light in all the right places. It hugs my curves perfectly—just tight enough to show them off but with a high neckline that adds a touch of class, balancing the boldness of the hemline. I step into my platform heels, their height making my legs look impossibly long.

With a smoky eye, my gaze takes on a sultry, intense allure. A bold red lipstick makes my lips look even fuller. I tilt my head, studying the effect in the mirror. It’s been a long time since I felt this sexy. The confidence I feel is the kind that straightens your spine and tells you that, tonight, all eyes will be on you.

I check the time—eleven p.m. Perfect. The later, the better. With any luck, Sophie, Whitney, and Elijah are already settled in for the night. I’m not in the mood to explain myself, or worse, weave a lie about where I’m headed.

With one last look in the mirror, I grab my clutch and take a steadying breath before opening the door.Just one night,I remind myself.One night won’t hurt.

The Rabbit Hole is as dark and seductive as I remember, but unease creeps in the moment I step inside. I’m much later than planned, and a thought tugs at me—maybe Caesar has already left, assuming I wasn’t coming.

I weave through the dimly lit space, my heels clicking softly against the worn wood floors. I find no familiar broad shoulders, no dark waves of hair, no rugged figure leaning at the bar waiting for me.

Maybe he never came at all because he thought better of it.

The disappointment hits sharper than I expected, a twist in my chest that surprises me. Why do I care this much?

The bass thumps from the back of the speakeasy, vibrating through the air, and I follow the rhythm, clinging to a sliver of hope that I’ll spot him on the dance floor. But as I push through the curtain into the back room, he’s nowhere in sight.

The lights pulse with the music, casting shadows over the swaying crowd. But only strangers are moving to the beat of retro rhythms.

A man steps out of the crowd, flashing me a smile as he leans in. “Fancy a dance, love?”

“Sorry. Not tonight,” I say with a polite smile, stepping back without another word. I don’t have the energy to fake it tonight.

The urge to leave sweeps over me. What am I even doing here? I feel foolish, going through all the effort to dress up, letting my hopes build, only to end the night alone.

I turn toward the door, heading back to the hotel. Disappointment settles heavy in my chest, and I can’t shake the feeling that coming here was a mistake.

A hand wraps gently around my wrist—firm but not forceful. My breath catches as I turn, heart racing… and there he is.

Caesar.

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