It's on the tip of my tongue to mention Denise's wedding photo, but something holds me back. Part of me isn't ready to admit this might be too good to be true.
As they prepare to leave, both women look at me one more time. There's something almost protective in their eyes, like they're looking at a younger sister about to make a terrible mistake.
“Eve,” Miranda says softly, “you know you don't have to prove anything to anyone, right? You're already enough, just as you are.”
The kindness in her voice nearly breaks me. But I can’t let it keep me from this opportunity to be more than what I am now. “Thank you,” I say, then I explain myself. “I’ve considered every other option. But this promotion is the only one that makes the most sense for me and for my life, right now.”
“Take care of yourself,” Sophia adds. “Whatever this is. Whatever they're offering, remember that you're worth more than…” she searches for a word, then slumps her shoulders as a way of an apology and says, “desperation.”
Desperation.
I can’t fault her for using the word. I do feel desperate. I think I’ve always felt desperate. I wish I could ask her how one feels notdesperate when they’ve never had anything. When no one has ever wanted them. When your box got checked NO CONTACT at birth.
After they leave, I'm alone with the too-bright lights reflecting infinitely in the facing mirrors, just like the warnings multiplying in my mind, bouncing back and forth between caution and ambition.
Why don’t they understand that I’m not comparing the promotion to safety? I’m comparing it tostaying.
I put on my own clear lip gloss and stare at my reflection. The woman staring back at me doesn't look beautiful. She looks young, scared, and alone.
“This is all going to be okay,” I whisper to my reflection and resist reciting the prayerHoly Spirit, Come Into My Heart.
4
IT’S A STARSHIP, EVE
I headout through the hotel's grand bronze doors. A black SUV waits at the curb, and I relax a bit when I see the familiar face of Clay, one of our private drivers, standing beside the vehicle. After the warnings from Miranda and Sophia, seeing a friendly face feels like a small mercy.
“You’re going to love your new position at the Celestial Spire, Eve,” Cal says unnecessarily, appearing at the passenger door and handing me my e-reader. He meets Clay's eyes in a silent exchange.
Clay opens the door for me with a polite nod. I slide onto cool leather seats that smell... wrong. Not the usual new-car scent or chemical, leather polish. The interior smells sharper, laced with something metallic and a faint trace of petrichor. I decide it’s the unfamiliar smell of billionaires and try not to let it bother me.
“Thanks,” I say to Cal through the open window, snapping on my seatbelt. The SUV doors lock with a heavy, mechanical sound that belongs on a bank vault, not a vehicle. I tell myself it’s just my overactive imagination, nothing more.
The windows go up, and Clay shifts the car into drive.
And that’s it. I’m on my way to my new position at the Celestial Spire at its mysterious location. But as I look around, I can’t help but notice the car’s dashboard is covered in unfamiliar touch panels marked with symbols instead of English letters.
Perhaps it’s an imported car.
“How long until we reach the airport?” I ask.
Clay makes eye contact with me as he adjusts the rearview mirror but doesn't answer me immediately. When he does speak, his voice sounds different. More formal. “It won’t be long. The system is calibrating. Sorry about the temperature drop. It's needed for transport parameters.”
“Transport parameters?” I notice the air is getting noticeably cooler, and I button up my blazer trying not to freak out.
Maybe this is a rich-people thing?
Then I watch as Clay presses a symbol on the console and the windows suddenly blacken completely. No tint. No gradual darkening. Just black.
“Clay, what the hell?” Panic creeps into my voice. “I can't see outside.”
“The car is not exactly standard issue,” he says, and his accent sounds different now. Less local, more... I don’t know, just something’s not right.
And I’m starting to freak out.
I’m being trafficked!
The SUV makes a hard turn, and my body presses against the door. I can feel we're moving fast, but the complete darkness outside is disorienting. “We're heading away from the airport. I can feel it. Where are you taking me? Clay?”
