"Very well," Ambrose replies.
"Have you had an opportunity to make your course selections from the menu?"
Their conversation seems distant as Ambrose discusses the selections with the server.
My heart pounds hard in my chest, and a sick feeling churns in my stomach.
He went so quiet when he saw the necklace. What does that mean?
There's no way this is really my…
He can't be.
"Miss?"
I jump out of my skin as the waiter leans over me expectantly. "Have you had a chance to look over the menu?"
My eyes try to focus on the slip of card resting on the small plate before me, but the letters all blur and swim together, and I can't read a fucking thing.
"I—I'll have the same, please."
"A steak girl." Ambrose commends my selection, lifting his flute to me in salute to my choice. "Wonderful."
When the server leaves, I want nothing more than to escape this room.
I know I'm falling apart, and it's fucking stupid, but I can't help it.
It's just a necklace. Maybe he wasn't even staring at it. Or maybe he was, but it doesn't mean anything.
"So, shall we talk a bit about what comes next?"
His phone buzzes insistently against the table.
"I have to go to the restroom."
My chair scrapes against the floor as I stand.
"Oh, of course. I should take this anyway."
I'm gone before he lifts the phone to his ear, racing down the hall so fast I almost run over the hostess.
"Where's the bathroom?"
She points down the hall. "The private dining room has its own, it's straight down?—"
But I'm already gone. I find the little sign on the door and push in, locking the door behind me as the automatic lights flick on.
I'm careful to keep my breaths quiet, knowing they're listening.
Fuck, did he see the mic?
Oh god.
I race to the mirror and check the neckline of my blouse, bending over like I did when I reached for the water in the middle of the table repeatedly, trying to see down my own shirt in the mirror from different angles. But I chose this shirt because of its higher neckline, and no matter how low I bend or reach or twist, I can't see anything.
The relief is muted, though, as I lift the small charm dangling from the end of the necklace. It's a simple enough design.
There are probably about a thousand necklaces like this one out there. I could probably go down to the little jewelry shopoutside the entrance to the casino floor downstairs and find another one that'd be a clone of this one, right?
