Checking the screen, I shake my head. “No. Somewhere crowded. Lots of people.” When he doesn’t move, I add, “If I’m in a big crowd, it doesn’t matter that I can’t hear. Because no one else can either.”
The best lies have a kernel of truth to them. If I have to get the woman I’m protecting out of harm’s way quickly, getting lost in a crowd is the easiest way to do it. But when I’m at my lowest, the dull hum of conversation—even without being able to understand the words—isactually comforting.
When it’s not terrifying.
Get a grip and pay attention.
The assignment—pretending to be in a relationship with Sloane Sanders so no one questions my constant presence—should be low risk, but that doesn’t mean I can walk into that hotel with my thumb up my ass. Even if said thumb is made of titanium.
“There is no fastest way to the Bahnhofstrasse,”the driver says.
“Why? It’s that far away?”
“No.”My new best friend—his taxi license says his name is Elias—pulls the car over to the side of the road. Pointing only a couple hundred meters behind us, he says, “See? The hotel is there.”
“Yeah. Kind of hard to miss.” While the fancy resort is only four or five stories tall, it shines so brightly, all the other buildings around it are dingy in comparison. The thought is so ridiculous, it almost makes me laugh. All of Zurich—all I’ve seen today at least—is clean, safe, and orderly. Not surprising for one of the biggest financial centers in the world.
Elias gestures ahead. “TheBahnhofstrasseis only two blocks away. Turn right on Barengasse, left on Talaker, and right on St. Peterstrasse. But since theBahnhofstrasseis closed to vehicles, you can walk there faster than you can drive.”
“Noted. Thank you for the tour, Elias.” Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pull out another hundred francs. Never hurts to make friends in a city where someone wants your protectee dead. “Do you have a card? Can I call you directly if I need assistance again?”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Griffin. You can call any time of day or night. I live twenty minutes away, but I will be there. No problem. To the hotel now?”
I accept Elias’s card and shake his hand. “Nah. I’ll walk from here. Long flight. Need to stretch my legs.”
Slinging my bag over my right shoulder, I give him an awkward wave, and I’m almost surprised when he doesn’t stare at my prosthetic hand. Instead, he waves back and speeds away.
Chapter Eight
Sloane
After an hour of Marina’s fussing, I kiss her on the cheek before picking up the small evening bag in the same cobalt blue as my dress. “I’ll be in the Lac bar until the party starts,” I say, swallowing hard, then pressing my lips together so I don’t—yet again—chew off all my lip dye.
She’s still working on her hair, pinning the black curls away from her face, and meets my gaze in the mirror. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“Talking to Max? No. But if he doesn’t have a plan, he just needs to keep this all quiet and he’ll be safe.” I hate the tremble in my voice, but no matter how many internal pep talks I give myself, it’s been there all afternoon. “Hopefully, everyone staying at the hotel is getting ready for the party and we’ll have the bar to ourselves.”
Marina arches a brow. “Or they’re all pre-funking and it’ll be packed.”
Only one way to find out.
I grimace and my lower lip finds its way between my teeth until I catch sight of myself in the mirror. “Shit. Not helping. Think empty bar thoughts for me. I’m leaving before I lose my nerve.”
She calls my name as my hand touches the door knob. “Sloane? You’ve got this, sweetie. If you need me to come down earlier, just call the room. No one’s going to care ifmymakeup and hair aren’t perfect.”
Flashing her a tight smile, I nod, even though I have no intention of disrupting a second of her prep time. She deserves to feel like a princess—a hell of a lot more than I do—and she was so happy when she saw her dress for tonight, there’s no way I’ll take this away from her.
The elevator is just as posh as the rest of the hotel with gleaming mirrors, polished brass and silver everywhere.
The woman staring back at me is full of poise and confidence—to anyone not looking too closely. My fingers tremble as I clutch the evening bag, my nails making softtickingsounds over the beads. A dull ache throbs in my temples from clenching my jaw.
Thedingas the car slides to an otherwise silent stop makes me flinch, but I plaster a serene smile on my face and step out onto the polished marble. The bar is hidden at the back of the second floor, and thank God, it’s almost completely empty. Quiet jazz plays in the background, and Max waits for me in one of the booths, a thin, frosty glass in front of him.
He stands as I approach, his hand going to the small of my back as he leans in toalmostkiss my cheek. The scent of vodka clings to his breath, and for a split second, I’m not here. I’m somewhere dark and terrifying where everything hurts. Until I hear his voice. “You look stunning.”
“Thank you.” It’s an automatic response, nothing more, and I ease myself carefully into the booth across from him. A uniformed server appears at my elbow almost immediately with an eager smile that fades slightly when I order nothing but spring water.
“I know the schedule’s a bit grueling,” Max says, “but you can opt out of the luncheons if you’d like.”
