Page 11 of Midnight at the Magnolia

Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite federal bloodhound. Come to sniff around some more, darling?

“Evening, Agent,” I call out, plastering on my best waitress smile. It feels brittle, fake, but years of practice keep it in place. “The usual? Or are you feeling adventurous tonight?”

Ethan nods, collapsing onto a stool. Exhaustion radiates from him in waves. Dark circles under his eyes, stubble shadowing his jaw–he looks like a man drowning in secrets.

In that moment, we’re mirror images of each other, both wearing masks, both buried in deceptions. Two sides of the same tarnished coin.

I pour his coffee, hyperaware of his presence. The scent of the brew mingles with his cologne, creating an intoxicating mix that makes my head spin.

“Rough day?” The question is casual, but my pulse quickens as I wait for his response. “You look like you’ve been dragged through all nine circles of hell... twice.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. The gesture is so human, so vulnerable, that for a moment I forget he’s the enemy. “You could say that. This fucking case baffles me.”

Oh, honey, if you only knew the half of it.

My pulse quickens, a staccato beat of fear and anticipation. “Oh? How so?” I lean in, pitching my voice low, conspiratorial. The counter between us feels like both a barrier and a lifeline. “Come on, sugar. Mama’s all ears.”

Conflict flashes across his face, a war between professional discretion and the need to unburden himself. “I shouldn’t be talking about this, but... We’ve uncovered evidence of aconspiracy. Corruption at the highest levels of city government. And the deaths...” he shakes his head. “It’s fringe. Too fringe.”

I school my features into a mask of shock, even as my mind races.

How much does he know?

How close is he to uncovering the truth—about the conspiracy, about me?

“That sounds dangerous,” I manage, the understatement of the century. “Like,sleeping with alligatorsdangerous orpissing off a voodoo priestessdangerous?”

Ethan laughs, a harsh sound devoid of humor. It scrapes against my nerves, a reminder of the gulf between us. “You have no idea. I’m starting to think I can’t trust anyone in this damn city.” He pauses, his brow furrowing. “We’re talking about a network that spans the entire Gulf Coast. Fuck maybe larger. Each time I unravel one connection a dozen more pop up.”

Our eyes meet, and the air between us crackles with tension. It’s a moment balanced on a knife’s edge—one wrong move and everything could come crashing down.

“You can trust me,” I say, the words heavy with a sincerity that terrifies me. It’s not entirely a lie—I do want him to trust me, even as I deceive him.

And isn’t that the sweetest poison of all?

For a moment, vulnerability flashes in Ethan’s eyes. It’s like looking into a mirror, seeing my own loneliness and isolation reflected back at me. “I want to, Celeste. God help me, I do.”

The moment stretches, fraught with possibility. I find myself leaning in, drawn by some irresistible force. The scent of him—coffee, cologne, and something uniquely Ethan—envelops me.

“Maybe it needs someone willing to go deeper,” I murmur, then quickly add, “I mean, like an undercover agent or something. Someone who can navigate the underbelly of this city without setting off alarm bells.”

Surprise flickers across Ethan’s face, followed by something that might be suspicion. I hold my breath, wondering if I’ve overplayed my hand.Careful, Celeste. You’re dancing on the edge of a very sharp blade.

“Celeste, I?—”

His phone rings, shattering the moment. The spell breaks, reality crashing back in with all the subtlety of a freight train. He answers, tension coiling through his body as he listens. I watch the transformation, seeing the man replaced by the agent before my eyes. It’s like watching Jekyll turn into Hyde, but infinitely more attractive.

“I’ll be right there,” he says, already rising.

As he reaches for his wallet, I wave him off. “On the house. Go catch the bad guys, Agent.” The words taste like ashes in my mouth.

Just not me, not yet.I add silently, the thought a prayer and a curse rolled into one. Let’s keep this dance going a little longer, shall we?

Ethan pauses at the door, his expression unreadable. For a heart-stopping moment, I wonder if he’s seen through me, if this is the moment it all falls apart.

“Be careful, Celeste. This city... it’s not safe right now.”

“You too, Ethan.” The words come out softer than I intend, laced with an emotion I’m not ready to name. I hesitate, then add, “Wait. Let me show you New Orleans. Tomorrow night. The real New Orleans, not just the tourist traps and overpriced hurricanes.”

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