Back in the pit, Adam's head spins—with gin, with something else. He pulls away from her slightly, putting a few millimetres between them. He suddenly feels a little nauseous, a little sick. He pulls away a little more. Her face is blurry, but he can tell it's pretty. He wants to lean in again—he wants her to do that thing with his hair she was doing before—but he knows he's gone too far. He knows he's drank too much.

Her expression is watchful and smooth. "Oh, now you must be heavy on the gin, Adam," she whispers to him.

"I've—I think I've had too much," Adam mumbles. "I need to—" He pulls away more, touching his jacket for his keys. "I need to go home."

"You're drunk, Adam. Let me drive you."

Adam is shaking his head, making himself dizzy. "You drive like a maniac."

"I drive like a maniac when you're chasing me," she replies. "If you stay in the passenger seat, we won't have a problem."

Adam gets to his feet, stumbling a little. "I don't need you to know where I live," he mumbles.

"Where? Guises Apartment complex on forty-third street? Apartment twenty-two?"

Adam scrunches his face. He's pretty sure that's where he lives. The coffee table in front of him has four empty glasses of gin. Not gin and tonic, but gin.

"You can't drive, Adam."

"I'll—call a cab," he says, reaching for his phone. "What's—what's the number?"

She places a hand on his shoulder, leading him to the stairs. "I'll get you one. Watch the stairs, Adam."

He stumbles over the first step, and she steadies him. He swallows, holding the rail for balance. Once he makes it up the stairs, she guides him out into the foyer and hands him off to the hostess. "Get him into a cab," she says. "He's going to the south end. Forty-third street."

Adam turns to tell her something—that she can't tell anyone what just happened, that it would hurt his career—but she's gone before he turns. The hostess helps him into the back of a waiting cab, letting the driver know the address.

Eris takes the stairs back to the pit, passing by Peter on the way, who drops the keys into her hand. She takes the back exit, getting into the Maserati and starting it up. She watches the cab leave, waits ten minutes, then drives to the south end.

She beats the cab to the complex, unsurprisingly. She does drive like a maniac. But she wouldn't have with him.

She waits outside the complex, across the street, covered by darkness. The cab pulls up, stops outside the complex, and Adam gets out. He's walking better now, but he's still stumbling.

He gets to the front door of the complex as the cab drives away. He reaches into his jacket pocket for his keys, fumbles around a little, but can't find them.

Eris watches him carefully. He knocks on the apartment door, but no one answers. It's the south end, after all, and it's nearly one in the morning. After a moment, he puts his back to the door and takes a long, deep breath.

In defeat, he pulls out his phone. He could call Sarah, but he's too mad about her bailing. He could call Carlos or any of his friends from work, but then he'd have to explain why he needed a ride back to Nyx, why he was at Nyx, and on and on.

He searches up the number for Nyx. He calls, presses three for the pit—where she'll most likely be still—and asks for Eris.

The girl on the phone, Kayla, informs Adam that she'll notify the boss. Then, she calls Eris on her personal phone, who answers immediately from the car across the street, and puts the phones next to each other.

"Adam?" Eris says.

She watches him breathe a sigh of relief. "I think I left my keys there—do you see them?"

Eris makes a show of scuffling and mumbles to the nonexistent person in the passenger seat if there's been any found keys. "There's no keys here, Adam," she says into the phone.

Adam closes his eyes, his head still spinning.

"Look, Adam," Eris says. "I'll send you a cab. Come back to Nyx, look for them yourself. If you can't find them, we'll assume you left them in the cab."

"That could've been any cab in the city," Adam groans.

It's not any cab in the city. The driver is Minx, who works valet for Nyx. He absolutely despises the amount of cab driving Eris has him doing these days, but he does like the money.

"I'll call the cab company and ask whoever it was to come back to Nyx so you can look," Eris says. "There's a cab going down Burlap near you right now. I'll send him your way."

"Thank you," Adam breathes into the phone.

Eris hangs up and waits. The cab pulls in front of the complex, and Adam gets in. This driver is Misha, who has been instructed to take every wrong turn she can on the way back to Nyx. When the car has disappeared down the road, Eris gets out of the Maserati and crosses the street.

She waves Adam's tag in front of the scanner, and it lets her in. She takes the stairs one at a time, not in any rush. She inserts the key into apartment twenty-two and opens the door.

It doesn't look like a place he would live. Adam himself is always presentable, his hair combed and his stubble trimmed. He wears his uniform perfectly, but one wouldn't know it from looking at his apartment. Everything is minimalistic and strewn.

Eris tries the little corner of the living room that he appears to be using as an office. There's a bunch of papers in there, but she can't find her file anywhere. It should be here—the cop she has on Adam said he planned to bring it home this weekend, but it's not there. Eris knows he has a buy coming up in the next few days, but she doesn't know which day it is or which buyer it is. She has nearly five sells this weekend. She either has to cancel them all, or cross her fingers and hope she can pick the cops out when they show up.

Eris thumbs through the files, trying to find anything that hints which buyer it is. She's guessing it's the Caughes buyer on Friday, since he's always been sketchy, but she's not sure. Playing this by ear would be dangerous as hell.

Eris gets a text from Misha saying they're nearing Nyx. Calmly, Eris continues through the files. It's not here. The cop she has on Adam clearly got something wrong.

Instead, Eris goes to Adam's bedroom. She looks under the bed, through the nightstand. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Eris has never panicked a day in her life, and she doesn't bother with it now. She'll play the buys by ear. Sure, she has no clue which ones are the cops. But she's never been wrong before. Plus, she has Adam's key now, so she can come here and plant a wire at a later date.

She goes back out into the living room. The couches are brand-new, and the only thing that has a dent is the armchair. It looks like he never even lives here. His bed isn't made, exactly, but the covers are thrown over it as if he tried to make it look nice. For a moment, Eris leans against the frame.

She wonders—which is a dangerous game for her—what it would be like if she'd been a defence attorney or a doctor. Well, she would never make it as a doctor, but if she'd been a NASA engineer like Adam suggested. Maybe then she would be invited here instead of breaking in. Maybe she would've been the first girl to dent that couch that's never been sat on. It was just as likely, however, that any conventional career would've bored his unconventional mind.

Eris leaves the room exactly as she found it. She locks it behind her, then gets in the black Maserati. She tastes straight gin on her lips.

She pulls back into her parking spot at Nyx forty-five seconds after Misha pulls up front with Adam. Eris doesn't hurry or rush, so she takes large, sweeping steps back through the back entrance. She hands off the keys to Peter, who runs back around the building to the front entrance and tosses the keys through the window to Minx, who pulls up in his cab moments after Misha. Minx tosses the keys on the floor of the passenger side and pulls up to the entrance just as Adam gets to the foyer of Nyx. His hands are sweaty and he needs to close his eyes. He knows this whole situation is sketchy, but he also knows that coincidence is just coincidence. How much did he have? Two at the table, that one at the bar—was it three in the lounge? Or four?

Adam goes to speak with the hostess, but then he spots Eris, coming up the stairs from the pit. Her face is ethereal, her skin sensual. Adam can feel her lips on hers, the way her hands slid down his shirt.

She makes her way over, graceful steps and all. Her voice is simple, "The cab that took you home is outside. You can have a look."

She places her hand on his back as they head back outside, and Adam can feel the points of those nails through his jacket. She's artistry, every action, every step, every word. She's Eris, con artist to end all con artists.

Adam stumbles to the cab and opens the passenger door. He fumbles below the seat and—there it is, his keys. He stands again, facing Eris.

"I'll drive you home, Adam," she says. Maybe it won't have worn off by the time they get to the complex. Maybe he'll invite her inside.

Adam fights with his mind. She's so alluring, so magnifying. Her eyes are gemstones, her skin is golden. She's the symbol of pleasure—she knows exactly what to do and when to do it.

Adam shakes his head. He says nothing else to her. Not a thank you for the drinks she paid for or the cabs she sent whirling about the city. Not for finding his keys, not for being kind. He just gets into the cab again and shuts the door.

Eris watches the cab sail away. She spins on her heel and heads back down to the pit.

Nikolas, Peter and Kayla wait next to the bar for her. When he sees her, Nikolas lets out a snort.

"Gullible little fucker," he says.

"Don't be mean to Adam," Eris says, leaning against the counter and imagining him pulling aside the messy covers of his bed.

"He's stupid as hell," Nikolas says. "You talk all the time about this sneaky little cop. He looked nothing but starstruck to me."

"I'd say the eight aphrodisiacs probably assisted with that," Peter says with a slight grin.

Kayla is smiling, too. "I'm not sure," she says. "You see her tonight?" She nods her head to Eris. "I don't think he needed them."

Eris is very still. "He needed them," she says. She glances at Nikolas. "You spike drinks like it's an announcement. Be more careful."

Nikolas points to her. "Funny woman, telling me to be more careful."

Eris pushes off the counter. Nikolas has that look in his eye, and so does Peter. "Get that key copied tomorrow morning," she tells Peter, and she leaves. Back up the stairs, up the hall, up to the penthouse.

Kayla watches her leave. "I wish I was her," she says.

Nikolas is rolling his eyes again, and Peter is following Eris up the stairs. He knocks on the door to the penthouse, but she never answers.

Inside, Eris tosses her phone on the kitchen counter. The city view is lit up like a fair outside, gleaming through the penthouse. That entire city, glittering and shining. That entire city, so beautiful, so promising.

Eris pulls the blinds.