"There's nothing I want from you," Sadie says, mechanically filling the refrigerator shelves, but the back of my neck prickles. Something about the measured tone of her voice gives her away: she's lying! The beautiful wretch.
"Anything," I say, squaring up to her in the narrow bar space. "Anything at all. Name it and it's yours."
Sadie's lips press together in a thin line. And she keeps working, keeps lining up booze bottles like it's the most important task on earth, but I catch her elbow the next time she straightens up and hold her in place.
"Tell me."
String lights wink from the temporary roof above us. This whole rooftop has been transformed into a sea of twinkling lights, and they sparkle in my assistant's honey-brown eyes.
She juts her chin. "No. I mean—I can't. There's nothing
