They stop.
Harleigh glances back over her shoulder. Her hair swings softly with the motion. “Forgetting something?”
I nod slightly. “Your purse.”
Her eyes widen again. “Oh, right. My purse.”
Another quick smile.
“Thank you. I’ll make sure to stop at the conference room.” Her voice is bright and cheerful in the way people get when they’re desperately trying not to look suspicious.
Mabree is staring at the floor like she’s trying to disappear into the carpet.
Harleigh lifts her chin slightly. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Garrison.”
I hold her gaze for a breath longer than necessary.
She’ll see me tonight.
“See you tomorrow, Miss Storm.”
She nods quickly and turns again.
I watch them go.
Harleigh’s hips sway naturally with her stride.
Those jeans should be illegal.
The elevator doors slide open.
They step inside.
Just before the doors close, Calliope’s head pops out and glances back at me.
Her expression is half guilty.
Half delighted.
Like she just got away with something.
Then she waves, and the doors slide shut.
The hallway goes quiet again.
I look back at the door to room 522. That fucking room. I should have the thing sealed and painted over like it never existed.
I turn on my heel and head back to the emergency stairwell, pulling my elevator key from my pocket.
The elevator doors slide open with a quiet ding, and I step out onto the polished marble floor of the Belicourt’s main level beside Calliope and Mabree.
“Well,” Calliope sighs, tucking a wiry curl behind her ear, “that was anticlimactic.”
“You call that anticlimactic?” Mabree squeaks.
Calliope shrugs. “I didn’t even get to use my holy water.”
“Mr. Garrison could have fired us,” Mabree whisper-yells. “He still could.”
