The workshop fell silent except for the steady drip of oil from somewhere in the shadows. Vivian's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, and before Sebastian could draw another breath, steel sang through the air. The tip of her rapier materialized against his chest, pressing just hard enough through the expensive fabric of his suit to make its presence unmistakably felt.

"You want to run that by me again?" Her voice had dropped to a whisper that somehow carried more menace than any shout. The blade didn't waver, held steady by a grip that spoke of years of training. "Because I could have sworn you just said something incredibly stupid."

Sebastian didn't move, didn't even shift his weight. One wrong twitch and that blade would punch through silk, cotton, and flesh without slowing down. But his gray eyes remained fixed on hers, unafraid. "Black Cat," he repeated slowly, as if testing each syllable. "That's the name I was given."

The pressure against his chest increased. A pearl button on his vest separated from its threads and hit the concrete floor with a tiny click that seemed to echo in the sudden stillness. "Who told you that name?" Vivian's left hand maintained perfect control of the rapier while her right moved with predatory grace toward his jacket. "And you'd better have a damn good answer, because right now you're about thirty seconds away from finding out how sharp I keep this thing."

"Old Kevin at the Rusty Anchor," Sebastian said, his voice steady despite the steel kissing his ribcage. "Said if I needed something... acquired... quickly and quietly, the Black Cat was the one to see. Said she worked out of Duncan's place."

Duncan had gone very still behind his workbench, grease-stained fingers hovering over the engine parts he'd been sorting. His weathered face revealed nothing, but Sebastian caught the almost imperceptible tightening around his eyes.

Vivian's searching hand found the inner pocket of Sebastian's jacket. Her fingers slipped inside, and despite the blade at his chest, Sebastian felt his pulse quicken at the contact. The back of her hand brushed against his shirt, the heat of her palm seeping through the fabric. For someone threatening to gut him, she was being remarkably thorough in her search.

"Kevin's been running his mouth again," she muttered, her fingers encountering the smooth surface of a business card. She pulled it out, glancing down without moving the rapier so much as an inch. The card was matte black with silver edges, completely blank except for the silhouette of a cat in one corner. No words, no numbers, no contact information. Just the cat.

Sebastian watched color rise in her cheeks as she realized how close they were standing, how her hand had lingered longer than strictly necessary against his chest. "Satisfied?" he asked, his voice dropping to a tone that was almost intimate despite the weapon between them.

"Where did you get this?" She held up the card, but her eyes had already given away the answer. Only one person in the city could produce cards like that, and they both knew it.

"Same place everyone gets them," Sebastian replied. "From her."

Vivian's hand was trembling now-just slightly, but enough that he noticed. The searching had required her to step closer, close enough that he could see the fine line of her jaw, the way her pulse jumped in the hollow of her throat. Close enough to catch the scent of leather and steel polish that clung to her skin beneath the motor oil.

"You're playing a dangerous game," she said, but her voice had lost some of its edge. Her right hand was still pressed against his chest, ostensibly to maintain her balance while holding the rapier, but Sebastian noticed she wasn't pulling away.

"I don't play games," he murmured, letting his voice carry just enough warmth to make it a caress. "I make deals. Good ones."

The flush in her cheeks deepened. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"That." She gestured vaguely with the card, which only served to draw attention to the fact that her other hand remained pressed against him. "That voice thing you're doing. Like you're trying to seduce me into stabbing you less."

Sebastian's mouth curved into the ghost of a smile. "Is it working?"

"No." But she was lying, and they both knew it. The tip of the rapier had dropped by perhaps an inch, no longer pressed quite so insistently against his ribs.

"Because if you wanted to hurt me," Sebastian continued in that same low tone, "you would have done it already. You're not the kind of woman who makes threats she doesn't intend to keep."

Vivian's green eyes flashed with something that might have been admiration or irritation-possibly both. "You think you've got me figured out?"

"I think," Sebastian said carefully, "that you're exactly the kind of person I need for this job. Smart enough to stay alive in a business that kills the careless. Skilled enough that people whisper your name in the shadows. And professional enough to listen to a proposition before deciding whether to kill the messenger."

For a long moment, they remained locked in their strange tableau-him pinned against the workbench by three feet of Spanish steel, her close enough that he could count the flecks of gold in her eyes. The tension between them had shifted, becoming something electric and complicated.

"What's the job?" she asked finally, the rapier dropping another inch.

"Retrieval," Sebastian said. "Something that belongs to my... associates. It was taken, and we'd like it back."

"What kind of something?"

"The kind that's worth enough to make this conversation worthwhile for both of us."

Vivian studied his face for a long moment, searching for tells, for signs of deception. Whatever she found there seemed to satisfy her, because she finally stepped back and lowered the rapier completely.

"Kevin said you were good," Sebastian added as she moved away, immediately missing the warmth of her proximity. "He didn't mention you were beautiful."

The color in her cheeks flared again, but this time it came with a scowl. "Save the flattery for someone who cares. If you want to hire the Black Cat, you'll need more than pretty words and a business card."

"Such as?"

"Details." She slid the rapier back into its sheath in one fluid motion. "Real ones. What was taken, who took it, and why you think it's going to be worth my while to get it back for you."

Sebastian straightened his jacket, noting the small tear where her blade had pressed against the fabric. "The item in question is a prototype chip. Military-grade encryption, highly classified. It was stolen three days ago from a secure facility."

"By whom?"

"That's what I need you to find out."

Vivian laughed, but there was no humor in it. "So you don't know who took it, you don't know where it is, and you want me to do all the legwork while you sit back and wait for results? That's not how this works, corporate."

"The thief left a calling card," Sebastian said, reaching into another pocket. This time, Vivian didn't search him-she just watched with predatory focus as he produced a small piece of paper. "Maybe you recognize the style."

He held out the paper, and Vivian's expression shifted as she saw what was drawn there: a cat, rendered in the same sleek lines as the one on the business card she still held.

"Someone's using your signature," Sebastian observed. "I thought you might want to know about that."