Page 8 of Muerte

“Oh, come on. Please? I don’t want to do it without you.”

“Why do you want to do this so badly?” I slightly tilted my head, eyes narrowing. “It’s not for the money, is it?”

“Not entirely,” she freely admitted, adding before I could lecture her. “We’ll never get an opportunity like this again. The extra cash is a good incentive too.”

Her pleading eyes held mine and weakened my resolve. She wasn’t going to take anything less than a yes from me, and as she’d pointed out, I didn’t have any specific reason to turn down this offer other than I was off tomorrow and ready to get home. It would only be for a few hours…

I exhaled softly, and she knew I was caving. With a little yip of excitement, she jumped forward and hugged me with one arm. When she stepped back, there was a wide grin on her face.

“This is going to be fucking amazing! Let’s get ready.”

“So exciting,” I deadpanned as she grabbed my wrist and hauled me off to change.

Within seconds of walking into the room, I knew this was on someone’s bucket list as a firsthand experience in hell. I was so far out of my depth here. I’d been in the resort’s amphitheater a handful of times and though the changes made it stunning, the large space was unrecognizable.

Its usual warm color scheme had been replaced with this event’s palette of deep burgundy and gold. The crystal chandeliers had been dimmed to allow the candles within towering glass centerpieces to be the focal point.

A masked string quartet played in a darkened corner, adding to the room’s desired ambience and giving it a sense of ominousness. Our uniforms, if they could be called that, were on par with the aesthetic. All the women were in the same deep cut A-line chiffon dress that hit just above the knee while the men donned simple button downs with slacks—black on black.

Anya had been impressed by this until she saw what the attendees were wearing. Perfectly tailored suits and elegant cocktail gowns. But now that we were inside, I wasn’t as bothered about the outfit anymore. This dress was the least of my worries. There were so many people it was impossible to slink into the shadows and remain hidden.

Even if I managed to, Shana would probably be waiting there to drag me back out. She’d instructed Anya to work the west wing and I was on the east, along with a few other employees I didn’t know well.

Now she was routinely patrolling the perimeter to make sure none of us were marring the Millennium’s flawless image by slacking off.

Balancing my serving tray on one hand, I weaved between a pair of round tables and approached another group of attendees.

Their attention was fixed on the center of the room where the dance floor had been reduced in size to accommodate a dark red dais of sorts to serve as a stage. This turned out to be my saving grace. I was as interesting as the flickering tealights thanks to the items being brought forth. I had no clue what made them so valuable.

There were a bunch of odd paintings and macabre sculptures—one deemed the Veiled Virgin with a contorted face, among other things I couldn’t possibly name. I stopped a few feet behind a balding man and curvy blonde having a conversation about a painting.

The man looked old enough to be her great grandfather, but seeing as his weathered hand was firmly planted on her ass, that likely wasn’t the case. I took a quiet breath and braved approaching them. With the looks I’d been receiving half the evening when I dared speak to some of these pleasant individuals, I loathed to interrupt, but it’s not like I had much of a choice.

“Beef carpaccio?” I asked politely, keeping my voice low.

Without sparing me a glance, the man let go of his partner’s ass and reached back for one of the delicacies. I counted what was left and silently rejoiced. If I could hand off the final three, I’d have a valid excuse to slip away for a few minutes. It shouldn’t be too hard. These things seemed to be a crowd favorite. I personally didn’t see the appeal in them. Even if I had all the money in the world, I couldn’t imagine myself fancying thin slices of decorated raw meat.

It brought back memories of when I handled freshly skinned chickens.

I stepped away from the couple and made my way back around my side of the room. I was waved off twice and then completely ignored before finally ridding myself of the last meaty delicacies. I added my serving tray to the small pile waiting to be collected by kitchen staff and lingered near the back of the room, giving myself a few minutes breather.

More guests arrived as another set of items were brought onto the dais, the room full of soft chatter and music. There was no auctioneer, just two older men in suits minding the stage so no one got too close.

I’d worked out that this was a silent auction kind of thing. Selections up for bid would remain for a set amount of time during which the bidders would be tapping away on their phones. They didn’t have to give them up like we did.

The process wasn’t nearly as exciting as someone firing off numbers and specs. I imagined it had to be done this way due to the heavy degree of privacy they were aiming for. Anya hadn’t been exaggerating when she mentioned how exclusive it was. All the entrances and exits were being safeguarded so that outsiders couldn’t sneak in.

I searched the room to see if I could spot her, not having any luck. A few men looked my way, one’s gaze lingering for longer than was socially polite. As I contemplated going to get another tray of appetizers to pass around—or plotting an escape—a dark-haired woman stepped into my line of sight.

There was a look in her eyes that gave immediate cause for concern, yet no one paid her much attention. She started to approach me and faltered. I smiled to reassure her I was staff, but the look of trepidation remained.

She subtly glanced behind her and then came forward with a renewed determination.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” I asked once she was closer, keeping my voice low.

“Quickly,” she whispered, making a motion with her hand.

I looked down and saw a small slip of paper grasped between her fingers. Deducing she wanted me to be discrete, I plucked it from her as subtly as I could and read what was written.

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