Page 15 of Peasants and Kings
“About how I look? Fine.” The white dress and pumps that Tiffany had picked out for me made me feel strong, powerful. Like I was wearing armor. “I think I get why you like going out with a full face of makeup, your hair done, and wearing designer clothes. I feel like a warrior. I mean—a very pretty warrior—but a warrior nonetheless.”
“Let me hear your battle cry,” she said with a grin.
“I’m yelling on the inside,” I replied. “You sure you can’t give me one tiny inkling about what I’m walking into?”
“Nope. Now get going. There’s a car waiting downstairs for you.”
I frowned. “What? I was going to drive myself.”
“No offense, but you can’t show up to The Rex in your car.”
“What’s wrong with my car?”
“If you have to ask…” She grinned impishly. “It doesn’t make the right impression. Take the car downstairs. Dan will drive you to The Rex, and he’ll bring you back here when you’re finished.” She took my rudimentary flip phone and programmed Dan’s number into it. “There. Now, don’t worry about a thing. Remember to smile.”
I saw my reflection in the mirror by the door. I looked like myself, but felt more settled into my own body, somehow. Same dark brown hair the color of maple syrup, only now it gleamed from the treatment and trim at the salon. Same golden-brown eyes thanks to the contact lenses I’d worn since I was seven. Same lush mouth that was quick to snap a snide retort.
But I felt more like me than I had in a long time. Maybe because I was in the presence of my oldest friend, someone I trusted implicitly.
I squeezed her hand and then walked to the door.
“Sterling…”
“Yeah?”
“I never realized it before, but you walk just like your mother. I can see her in you. Be strong.”
“Thanks Tiff.” I flashed a smile and then went downstairs to the black town car waiting for me. I kept my manicured nails clasped in my lap on the drive to The Rex as I stared out the window from the back seat of the car. My mind began to wander, but I forced myself to think of the looming interview. Nothing else mattered at that moment except my meeting with Genevieve. If I had any hope of disappearing and staying safe, then I needed to convince this woman that I would be an asset to The Rex.
I arrived at The Rex fifteen minutes before my scheduled meeting at eleven. I tried to project confidence as I strode across the marble floor of the hotel. I turned a few heads in the process and that did a lot for my ego. For a year, I’d tried to be invisible, but now raw, feminine satisfaction at being noticed curled through me.
I sat down on a white couch in the lobby and watched the patrons of the hotel. Men in well-tailored suits walked through the room heading to the Bar and Restaurant, the front desk, or to the elevators. People shook hands as they met to dine, and some laughed and spoke as though they had known each other for years.
There was a palpable energy in the hotel. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it felt like I was witnessing the elite in their natural habitat. Hotel rooms went for no less than six hundred a night. You had to have some serious cash to stay at The Rex, but judging by the amount of people in the lobby, the price tag didn’t seem to be a deterrent. If anything, The Rex was selecting its own customer base, weeding out those that couldn’t afford to stay there. The hotel projected pure opulence and luxury, and it catered to those that wanted nothing less than the best.
A young woman with dark blonde hair in a low bun at the nape of her neck strode across the floor wearing a black pencil skirt and a white, pressed button-down. Her steps were long and confident as she approached me, surveying me up and down with intelligent eyes behind a pair of black frames.
I stood and smiled.
She reached out a hand before she’d even come to a stop. “Ms. Miller?”
“Yes.” I took her hand and gave it a shake.
“Welcome to The Rex. My name is Annika. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to Genevieve’s office.”
“Thank you.” I dropped her hand and walked beside her as we went toward the elevators.
There was no idle chitchat as we waited for the doors to open. A soft bell chimed, signaling the arrival of a car. The doors pinged open and Annika gestured for me to proceed first.
She pushed the button for the fifteenth floor and the light turned a golden orange and the doors closed in front of us, but the elevator didn’t move. She then reached into her blouse to pull out a golden skeleton key on a chain, similar to the one Tiffany wore. Annika took off the necklace and placed the one-inch long key into a single, tiny unmarked keyhole next to the button for the fifteenth floor. With a gentle turn, the elevator came to life and we started our ascent. She removed the key from the keyhole and placed the necklace back around her neck and tucked it into her blouse, hiding it from sight.
We were silent, which I was grateful for. The steady beating of my heart was enough to occupy me. I held my clutch, determined to appear poised instead of nervous.
The elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open to reveal a room with cream brocade patterned wallpaper and an antique oak desk with detailed scrollwork on the legs. The air smelled of lemongrass and instantly made me feel welcome.
Annika stepped out of the elevator and I followed her, my gaze roving across the walls and artwork. She walked to a closed door that hadn’t been visible from the elevator and rapped on it before pushing it open. “I have Ms. Miller for you.”
“Thank you,” came a distinctive feminine voice. “Please show her in.”
