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took away the empty shot glasses on the table, giving me a brief distraction from the dominating presence across the booth from me. “So, you’re a business man then?” I asked once she’d disappeared again.
    “Yes. I own a few establishments here in Manhattan. What do you do?”
    “I’m a writer—well, kind of. I work for Social She. I write the Contents section,” I said dismissively, not wanting to elaborate.
    Goliath nodded, seeming to be sincerely interested, which was flattering.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Florence Randall. Yours?”
    “Graham Stone.” Memories of seeing the name Stone on a box outside my neighbor’s door rushed back in, and I cocked my head at him.
    “You don’t sell insurance in Queens, do you?”
    “No. I can’t say that I’ve ever been involved in the insurance business.”
    “Probably a smart move on your part. I think you’re doing okay here,” I said, nodding my head as my eyes admired our surroundings.
    “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He flashed that gorgeous smile once more and my belly warmed again, but not because of the tequila in my system. Something told me that this goliath was going to end up being equally, if not more intoxicating, than my favorite tequila. I’d hoped that I was right.
    “Where do you live?” I probed on.
    “The upper eastside.”
    “Oh.”
    I had wanted to say, “Of course you do! You’re obviously loaded! I know the type.” But I’d bit my tongue.
    “What’d I miss?” Matt asked, gliding back over to the booth. I made a mental note to thank him later. Being caught in Graham’s presence alone for too long felt heady and unnerving all at once.
    “We were going to get some fresh air. Wanna come with?”
    “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”
     

Flor
     
    Eta Carinae
     
    I barely noticed our third wheel as we piled into the elevator, Graham’s presence being what it was consumed my attention.
    Not just his body and the sheer size of him, but this… energy he put off. One of mystery and mischief and pure unadulterated lust. Even just standing there staring straight ahead and me and Matt stealing glances at him, he seemed like this great big shiny red button that practically begged to be pressed.
    Matt cleared his voice, reining my attention back to him. He widened his eyes in that oh my god fashion and I widened mine in that I know fashion. Like any decent best friends, we had honed the art of silent communication.
    The elevator hummed subtly as we ascended floor after floor, heading to what I assumed would be a private area. The elevator halted with only the smallest of jolts and the doors slid open.
    I stole another glance at the goliath beside me and caught his eye. There was a twinkle there. In that moment, he didn’t look like the expensive suit clad behemoth that he was, but instead a young boy taking a girl by her hand for god only knew what kind of trouble. His appearance belied what I thought that little twinkle represented.
    I’m in so much trouble.
    Beyond the elevator doors was a foyer of sorts. Though it was large and spacious, it was filled with comfortable looking couches and chairs. The décor complimented the theme of the club. Blue-white lights twinkled from the ceiling overhead. A large gas fireplace was located on the far wall with two huge prints of nebulas above the wide mantle. I drifted toward the fireplace to admire the images.
    They were so different from each other and yet fundamentally the same. Gases and dust and all the things that life itself is composed of lit up in every shade in the color spectrum. I was having difficulty choosing which I liked best. The one on the right appeared to have a bright white star at it’s center with varying shades of red and orange and yellow all warring for dominance around it in an elongated fashion. It looked like an encapsulated fireball.
    “Eta Carinae,” Graham declared, sidling up next to me close enough to feel heat radiate from his large frame but just beyond making