Chapter 56 Realizing The Perfect Mistake

• Chicago's morning sunlight painted Mason's penthouse in gold, but his mind was anywhere but heavenly. Standing before the floor-length mirror, Mason adjusted his tie for the hundredth time - a silk number in deep burgundy. The custom Tom Ford suit fit like sin itself, dark navy fabric catching light like water at midnight.
• "Damn thing," he muttered, fingers working the silk. Eve had picked it out. Between putting holes in people and patching them up, she had a knack for keeping him looking the part.
• Every detail had to be perfect. One wrong move, one slip in this masquerade, and his whole house of cards would come tumbling down faster than a snitch in concrete shoes.