Not long after the call, there was a buzz from the front door. A delivery, the guy said, for Steven Rogers. The package he brought was from the well-to-do shop he'd stopped at, an envelope taped to the top.

The note inside was simple. "Let me give you the kind of night you never got to have before. Be ready at six."

And inside the box, on top of the tissue paper that wrapped the suit so carefully, was a single rose of the most vivid red he'd been able to find.