Page 19 of Skeletons in the Closet

Before he could respond or object, I strutted toward a deserted hallway as though I knew exactly where I was going and belonged there. That was the key to acting. Believing you were who you portrayed. In this case, I was a man in the fashion industry.

Diem cursed under his breath but scrambled to keep up.

Once we were out of sight of the gala’s guests, I steered Diem down another hallway to an out-of-the-way area where the janitor’s room was located. Only then did I stop. The door was locked.

“Okay, Guns. This is where we part ways. Give me the props and get yourself outfitted as a sexy custodian. I’m going to find Olivia’s office, and I’ll text you the second I locate it.”

Diem fumed. If he was a cartoon character, smoke would have billowed out his ears, setting off the alarms. Was I walking all over his case and springing stuff on him last minute? Yes, absolutely. But had I discussed my true intent back at his apartment, he would have told me to go to hell.

When he didn’t move, I stripped him of my shoulder bag and camera. Then I shoved two fingers into the front pocket of his jeans, and Diem jumped back, swatting my hand away. “What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.

“Not copping a feel. Relax. Badge. Put it on.”

Nostrils flaring, Diem did as he was told, but the fires of hell still radiated from his eyes. “This was not the plan,” he groused.

I smirked. “No, but you’ll go along with it anyhow because you have no choice now. Get in the room and get some props while I wander around and figure out where we need to be.”

“You can’t wander. You’ll get caught.”

“Nope.” I performed a magician’s flare with my hand. “Presto chango. I’m no longer Xavier Downing from the magazine. If anyone stops me, I’m a new hire at Challuah Designs, looking to deliver my employee package to Mrs. Olivia Lansky’s office as instructed since I start work on Monday morning.”

Diem opened his mouth to object, scanned me once, then snapped his jaw shut.

“Not bad, huh? You can admit it. I’ll only gloat a tiny bit.”

“A fucking heads-up next time.”

“Oh, come on. Say it. It’s a good idea.”

He growled and unearthed a lock-picking kit from the back pocket of his jeans. “Move.”

I guess admitting he was impressed was too much to ask. “I’ll text you the second I find her office.”

“Just don’t be stupid.” Diem squatted and studied the lock.

I brushed fingers over his exposed neck, aiming for reassurance, before sauntering away.

On a Sunday, most businesses were closed. The only reason the building was bustling was because of the gala, but the function was being held in a handful of rooms on the main level, so theoretically, everything above should be deserted.

Wandering in the opposite direction of the party, I looked for a bank of elevators at the back of the building, or a sign, or a poor lackey working overtime on the weekend who might be gullible enough to believe I was Olivia Lansky’s newly hired employee, seeking her office.

I found no one. The main elevators were in the lobby, but there had to be another set or a door to a stairwell. The building might not have been huge, but it was too vast for only one bank of elevators.

Locating a stairwell first, I slipped inside the concrete well, taking the stairs two at a time until I reached the second floor. I slipped into a deserted hallway and taxed my ears. Without thecommotion of a gala in the background, it was quiet. A vacuum sounded from farther away. A real custodian must have been making his or her rounds. Not good.

I thought about texting Diem a heads-up but decided to follow the sound instead. Cleaners wouldn’t have a clue about new employees, but they might know where specific offices were—or at least where I might find a directory.

I weaved along a few blandly carpeted corridors with beige walls and past several closed office doors until I reached the area where the lobby elevators might deliver the usual crowd to the second floor. The vacuum was louder, coming from a nearby office down a hallway I hadn’t explored, but I didn’t need the custodian. A plastic sign on the wall by the elevators provided a list of important people and where they could be found.

It didn’t indicate specific names, but since I knew Olivia was the CEO of Challuah Design, I learned she and her colleagues occupied offices on the sixth floor. I should have guessed. Bigwigs always preferred the upper levels.

I texted Diem, letting him know to head to the top, then backtracked to the stairwell. I could have used the elevators, but I didn’t want to chance running into someone if I didn’t have to. Besides, I could use the burst of cardio.

The number of times I’d envisioned Diem at the gym since his announcement was shameful. No wonder the guy oozed muscles. If he used their shower facilities daily, which he’d suggested, it meant he was working out daily. It showed. Maybe I didn’t want relations with the guy, but I could appreciate a well-honed package when I saw one.

I had thankfully been blessed with a high metabolism, but it didn’t mean my bad habits of lattes, pastries, and late-night drinks wouldn’t catch up with me someday.

My steps echoed off the concrete walls as I jogged up the stairs. Three floors later, I regretted my decision and slowed my pace.

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