Her voice slides into the room before she does—low, honeyed, a little breathless. She steps inside, shutting the door with her hip, and the dim hallway light catches the edges of her silhouette. Long black hair, loose and tousled. Black jacket, expensive, splattered with something darker in the creases.

She tilts her head, lips curving into that slow, knowing smile. The one that makes the whole world nervous. The one that makes you melt. She's already moving toward you, shedding her jacket like a second skin, tossing it onto the armchair without looking.