Prologue - Pearl

The phone on my vanity flashes with a message from an unknown number, sending a shiver of excitement trailing down my spine.

Fancy meals and nice cars, on dates with men who scream power, are a welcome reprieve to my otherwise tumultuous life. On the nights I have dates, I'm another person. Anybody I want to be. It's thrilling and distracts me from my harsh reality. A reality, where I can not find peace or rest until the day of revenge, whenever that might be.

Grabbing the phone, I swipe my thumb across the screen.

The car is waiting outside.

After slipping my phone into the little antique gold-colored clutch, I lean closer to the mirror, swiping a deep nude lipstick across my full bottom lip before touching up the smoky eyeshadow framing my mocha eyes.

With sultry makeup and a maroon dress that fits me like a glove, the man I'm meeting tonight will spend our entire dinner eating his heart out. My fingers slip through my chocolate waves, adjusting them one last time before I slip into my stilettos.

This is just another night with another man. It's nothing to be nervous about. You'll talk and laugh, maybe have some fun, and at the end of the night, you'll return to your other life.

Holding my head high, I stride out of my penthouse apartment, nodding to the elevator operator as he presses the button. He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing as the glossy white door slides open to reveal the gilded walls.

His rapid breathing is music to my ears as we descend to the bottom floor. If a man like him is nervous around me, the man I'm meeting tonight is going to fight for power. He's going to want to prove that he's in control, even when we both know I'm the one holding all the cards.

We're going to play my favorite game of cat and mouse.

The door parts, revealing the lobby. The doorman steps out from his position beside one of the deep emerald velvet couches, striding across the white marble floor and pushing open the carved wooden door.

The older man nods to me as I follow him outside, taking a tip from my clutch and pressing it into his hand with a soft smile. Turning, I struggle to keep my mouth closed at the sleek Jaguar in front of me, its limited-edition badge gleaming a polished black beneath the bright lights of New York City at night.

I can see my reflection on the side of the SUV, the paint the same color as amethysts at midnight. It's a stunning car and when the chauffeur steps out and opens the back door, buttery soft black leather awaits me.

The fabric is supple against the back of my legs as I take the driver's hand and get into the car. Mozart's Requiem plays as the man returns to the front seat, the engine a low hum as we pull away from the curb.

Though it's only a short drive to the restaurant, there is enough time to fully enjoy the beautiful music, my eyes drifting shut as I listen. As the last note dies out, the Jaguar stops. The chauffeur says nothing as he helps me out of the car, waiting until I've walked into the building before leaving.

Though the restaurant may not be as nice as several others I've been to, there is something to be said about the climbing florals that chase each other around trellises between the tables. A waiter looks up from the podium, his hair slicked back and the slight gap between his two front teeth showing. "Good evening, miss. Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes. It's under Noah Hearst."

The waiter nods and steps to the side. "Right this way."

He leads the way to a table in the back corner, beside an aquarium filled with exotic fish. Brightly colored fins swirl by as the little creatures chase each other before disappearing into pieces of coral and little rock huts.

Noah Hearst slides out of the rounded booth, one hand smoothing down his mauve silk shirt as he reaches out to take my hand. "It's a pleasure to have you join me tonight, Pearl."

With a slight curve to the corners of my mouth, I allow him to kiss the back of my hand. "I'm glad to join you. I've never seen anything quite like those roses."

The compliment does its job, making his broad and muscled chest puff out with pride.

His hand finds my lower back, fingers flexing when he presses against bare skin, the hem just below his touch. "You look stunning tonight."

"Thank you." I take a seat, moving to the center of the rounded edge. "That color enhances the exotic and mysterious brown hues of your eyes."

Noah slips in beside me, the dim light from above making the gray hair gathering at his temples shine. "Well, I appreciate your keen observation. It looks like I'm going to need to go shopping."

A small and warm laugh is his reward as I reach out to trace my fingers along the visible vein on the back of his hand. "Tell me about yourself."

My dark lashes flutter as I pull my hand away to look through the menu. I already know that I will order the steak and lobster dish, but I need to put a touch of distance between us. Just enough to draw him in and leave him wanting more.

Sure enough, he leans in, his warm breath ghosting over the shell of my ear. "I'd much rather talk about you."

"I'm not that interesting. You on the other hand run the largest tech company on the East Coast right now. The things Hearst Industries is doing in terms of cloud computing are amazing. It's going to revolutionize the way businesses and remote working operate."

His eyebrows raise, clearly impressed. "I didn't know you had any interest in tech."

I reach for the shimmering glass of white wine, fingers twining around the thin stem as I take a sip, savoring the citrus notes. "I would be a fool not to be. Advances in technology are the way of the future. Even if we ignore the cloud computing you focus on and take a look at the human capital management systems you've created, they're outstanding."

The lines at the corners of his eyes crease, interest sparking in his gaze. "Alright, let's say I'm having a problem with an aspect of that particular software. I think that the percentages may be skewing higher on an employee's profile, making them seem more profitable than they are. What would be your first step to fix this?"

"Assuming the calculations your program runs are correct?"

"Yes. Say, for example, Maxim Orlov is using my software to maintain the productivity of his blackjack dealers."

My spine stiffens, my body drawing tense at the mention of Maxim Orlov, but I brush it off by leaning closer, pretending to be deeply invested in the topic at hand, waiting for Noah to finish his scenario.

He pauses long enough for the waiter to take our orders before looking back at me. "Where was I?"

"We were talking about the productivity of blackjack dealers."

"Yes." He steeples his fingers beneath his chin, watching me intently. His eyes dart around my face and body like he can't quite decide where to look before he settles on my eyes. "We've checked the calculation, and they seem to be right, so why do you think the percentages are skewed?"

"Someone found a flaw in the system. If, say, they were reporting their numbers, it would be easy enough to change say thirty wins for the house to ten wins for the player to thirty-one and nine. Or I would think that you could have someone on the backend altering numbers after the fact, especially, if there are bonuses given based on performance."

Noah's hands drop and he reaches for his glass of red, swirling the deep berry liquid around before taking a sip. "You may be right about that."

"That's only given that there are two determining factors, but if the numbers are right, then it's usually human interference."

"And what do you think of the use of such a program in say a medical field?"

"Efficient medical care is lacking. If you were to start tracking numbers like that, say, patients, condition, and how long it takes to triage and treat that condition upon admittance, then you may be able to create an efficient hospital while still providing proper healthcare."

"I have to admit," he says, his tone low and slow, the glance he gives me appraising. "You're not what I expected from a dinner companion . I've gone on several outings in the last couple of weeks, and none were as outspoken with their ideas or as receptive to hypotheticals."

My lips curve along the rim of my glass in a secretive look that only the two of us share.

"If I were you, I would keep that fact to yourself. Demand for my time is already high. If other powerful men knew I was intelligent, I would have to beat them off with a stick just to get some time with you."

He's playing right into the palm of my hand as our food appears in front of us. "I'll be sure to keep your secret then. I wouldn't want anyone to jeopardize our time together."

I take a small piece of the garlic butter lobster, letting the flavors melt on my tongue, before following it with a thin slice of the rosemary-infused steak.

Noah swipes one of his scallops through the creamy lemon sauce on his plate. "How is the food?"

"This has to be one of the best dinners I've had in a long time." I reach for my napkin and dab the corner of my mouth. "I hope you didn't have to go to too much trouble to get us a reservation for tonight. I know it was rather last-minute."

He shakes his head, swirling another morsel of food around on his plate. "I'm the owner."

"And here I thought your talents were only in tech."

His warm chuckle and the gleam in his eyes have me thinking that his mind has moved past dinner and gone solely to what might come after it, should he play his cards right.

Noah leans closer, spearing a scallop and holding it out to me. "You must try this. It's divine."

Slowly, I open my mouth and wrap my lips around the fork. His gaze flares with desire, his body moving closer to mine as I take my time sliding the bite off the end of the fork.

"I don't think I'm ready for this night to end," he says, returning to his food and finishing it off. "I've barely begun to scratch the surface with you."

It's a subtle hint, but the meaning is there.

The corner of my mouth curves as I down the last sip of wine in my glass. "I'm afraid I have to meet a friend early in the morning."

His face smooths into an unreadable mask—the disappointment hidden before I could fully register it. "Well then, I better see you home. Perhaps another night?"

"Perhaps."

He leaves a generous tip for the waiters and leads me out of the restaurant to the waiting car, his fingers laced with mine as he waves the chauffeur off and opens the back door. I slide across the leather seats, silently wondering how much the Jaguar cost him.

The drive back to my apartment is short and sweet, and it's as I pass the doorman that my phone dings with a notification.

Noah Hearst has sent you $5,000.

Be free and black-tie ready on Friday night .