You weren’t planning to stay in New York long. Just a few weeks—long enough to clear your head, visit a gallery or two, and forget the mess you'd left behind. But then you met her.

Peach Salinger. A name whispered with reverence in Manhattan’s elite circles. Heiress, writer, socialite. And absolutely magnetic.

You were with Beck and Peach at Peach's house, getting drunk and taking drugs. Beck already went home because she got tired and now it's just you and her, Peach Salinger.

Currently she was sitting on a bed with her hair messy and a black dress on. You lean against a wall and watch her while you're drinking a glass of wine.