Page 9 of Forbidden Mistress

Miss Chloe Lawrence

Head of Hospitality, Obscura at Exeter House

I frown, mind racing. What the hell? I would remember applying for a job at Exeter House, for sure.

I’ve actually heard of Obscura before. My cousin, Lexi, went there a few times before getting together with her guy, Ash. And my former roommate, Gwen, was actually doing an article on the club several months ago, before she suddenly dropped everything and took a trip to Hawaii and came back with a handsome British royal.

Neither of them ever explained to me exactly what the club is. Just that it’s super exclusive and attached to Exeter House.

My eyes scan the letter again, sticking on that “negotiable” hourly rate. Damn. I have experience in hospitality. Before the restaurant server job, I worked graveyard shift at a hotel reception desk. If I could score the higher end of that hourly rate, that could bring me upwards of twenty-five hundred dollars per week.

That’s…life-changing money. I could pay my bills, and wouldn’t have to be a connoisseur of every flavor of ramen available. I could pay my overdue tuition. But more importantly, I could hire a lawyer to take my stepbrother to the cleaners for my half of the company.

Did I say life-changing? I meant paradigm-changing. I meant rewriting the story where the underdog wins and kicks the bully to the curb.

My heart is racing as I lift the cover letter and look at the details…Obscura’s address, where to enter the building and how, and when to report for work, plus contact info for this Chloe Lawrence person.

At the bottom is a handwritten note in the same sloppy writing as the other two cards I’ve received.

Heard you were in need of a new job. I took the liberty of suggesting your name for an opening at Obscura. Sending a car to pick you up at eight tonight. Wear the dress and the necklace.

-L

Finally, a signature! Of sorts. A smile spreads across my face at the realization that I was right—it must be Lucien, sending me these things.

But one question looms—how did he find out about me losing my job? I make a mental note to ask him the next time I see him.

Once the movie’s over, downstairs, my roommates bound into the bedroom asking about the newest delivery. I blink and hand them the letter, still stunned and hoping they can maybe help me make sense of it.

Avery’s eyes are huge. “Are you going to take the job?”

Haley scoffs at her. “Did you see how much they want to pay her? Of course she’s going to take it. What kind of job is it, do you think?”

Avery points to the first page. “Well, it says right here it’s for an assistant hospitality hostess, whatever that is.”

Haley rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s what I mean, what kind of job is it? Assistant hospitality hostess doesn’t tell me anything. That could be anything from cleaning hotel rooms to…I dunno, serving drinks topless at a nudy bar?”

Avery—who exudes such pure innocence that we’ve sometimes referred to her as Snow White—looks scandalized. Her pale beauty only serves to reinforce the image. “You wouldn’t serve drinks topless, would you, Cassie?”

I shrug. “For that kinda money? Why not?”

“But—” The worry is clear on Avery’s face, in her big blue eyes.

By this time, Sam has wandered in to ask what all the fuss is about, has inspected the letter, reading it with a smile and a nod of approval.

“You’re at least going to find out what it entails, right?”

I glance at the invitation in my hand. It does look really intriguing. “I don’t know,” I say. “Is it too good to be true? What if he’s a serial killer or something?”

Avery laughs. “I’m the one who told you to go introduce yourself to him. I do know he’s a very respected lawyer, if that helps. But you should definitely find out more info before you agree to anything.”

Haley cuts in. “Besides, murderers don’t bother to woo their victims by sending gifts. Serial Killer 101, don’t leave a paper trail.”

“See, this is what I meant by you watching way too many true crime shows,” Sam tells Haley.

Haley throws her hands up. “What? It’s useful information to have!”

Avery taps her chin with her forefinger, thinking. “Don’t they do extensive background checks to even be a member of Exeter House? It’s not likely that they’d let a serial killer in.”

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