Page 5 of Mountain Daddy

LILLY

Idon’t remember making the decision. One moment, Trish walked off in the opposite direction, and the next, I was in the elevator.

Floor 22:I could get killed..

Floor 23:I want this… right?

Floor 23 ½:This is insane! I never do this.

Floor 24: Too late. I’m here.

And now here I am, on Floor 25, still clutching the note in my hand like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. This is real. I didn’t imagine this.

Okay. Deep breaths. I don’t have to go. I could take the elevator back down. No one would ever know.

He’s dangerous. That much is clear. The kind of man who doesn’t just play with fire. Heisfire.

And yet, some twisted part of me isn’t scared. Some part of me is curious. Reckless. Starving for a thrill I haven’t tasted in years.

Trish said henevermakes requests.

My heart is pounding like it wants out of my chest. My palms are damp. My stomach is doing acrobatics.

But I still keep moving forward, towardshim.

As I walk down the hall, every bad thing that could go wrong enters my brain. I spot a 250-pound black-haired man standing outside the only door on this floor. Covered in ink. Wearing all black. And strapped. I mean, there’s a gun under his jacket. I see it instantly.

This was a terrible idea.

I should’ve said no.

Should’ve gone home, microwaved leftover Thai, and binge-watched true crime documentaries instead of trying to star in one.

But I’m here.

I didn’t even knowhotels had rooms this high up. The elevator ride took forever, and yes, there was an actual human being in there pressing the button, standing inside with me like this was Buckingham Palace. He smirked when I said "floor 25," like he knew exactly what kind of trouble I was walking into.

The armed man doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me hovering, then opens the door wider.

Oh. Okay. Guess we’re doing this.

I step inside.

My breath catches. This isn’t a hotel room. This is a damn rooftop mansion.

There’s a skyline view of Chicago through floor-to-ceiling windows, marble floors so shiny I’m afraid to walk on them, and off to the side?—

Wait.

Is that a pool? An actual pool. On a private balcony. With a hot tub.

Who the hell am I meeting?

"You’re late," a deep voice says.

I whirl around and nearly choke on my tongue.

He’s shirtless with a towel around his waist and wet hair, and a glass in one hand.

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