He shrugs. “You must have impressed him.”
Doubt lingers in my chest, but I don’t question it. Not when a job like this pays a grand a night.
Tom gestures toward the elevator.
“Take it to the top floor.”
I hesitate, but he gives me a wink.
“Good luck, Brooklyn.”
I’m going to need it.
The elevator doors shut, and suddenly the spacious interior feels smaller.
The walls inch closer.
My palms are sweaty.
My heart slams against my ribs.
Beads of sweat trickle down my spine.
I tug at the hem of my tiny dress, but all it does is push my cleavage higher, threatening to spill me out completely. Great. Now I have to worry about a wardrobe malfunction and whatever the hell I’m walking into.
With a chime, the doors glide open.
I step out into silence.
No music. No voices. Just the muted whisper of my heels against the thick cream carpet. The scent of vanilla lingers in the air, warm and intoxicating.
At the end of a long, dimly lit corridor, one door waits.
Cream and gold.
Tom stands beside it, arms crossed, looking far too amused.
“Tom?” I frown. “How did you get up here so fast? Are you a superhero?”
He grins. “Moi?” He points to himself. “I wish. You move quickly around here.”
I shake my head. “I’d get so lost.”
He chuckles, placing his hand on the ornate gold handle. “He’s waiting for you.”
Nerves twist deep in my gut. I nod.
“Brooklyn—”
I pause.
Tom gives me a knowing smile. “Good luck.”
I swallow hard and step inside.
The room is enormous, stretching into shadows. The only sound is the soft crackle of a fire, embers glowing likemolten gold. Thick crimson drapes cloak the towering windows, swallowing the outside world whole.
It’s breathtaking.
