Page 39 of Miss Typed

Myra dropped by after the two-hour process to inspect me. “You need more glitter on your chest. How are you feeling?”

Looking in the mirror, I was stunned by the image. They’d made me up like a Hollywood glamour icon circa 1950s. “Nervous. But I’ll be okay.” At least I’d be staying in this hotel and not going back to someone’s house where nobody would know where I was.

“Yes. You will be fine.” She was interrupted when her cell phone rang. “Excuse me for a moment.”

She spoke in an unfamiliar language over in the corner while the two ladies who’d been grooming me put more shimmery powder on my chest and touched up my cherry red lips. The plan from here was for me to go down in a private elevator to a floor where I’d be led out on stage. I wouldn’t see the men viewing me. Instead, they would assess me in a spotlight and make electronic bids. The highest bid won. Simple. From there, I’d be sent to a room where I was to sit on the bed and wait.

Easy peasy, stomach queasy.

Myra ended her phone call and walked over, all smiles. “Slight change of plans. You’ll be heading up to the twenty-fourth floor now, room 2455.”

My mouth went dry. “What do you mean?”

“From time to time, a VIP takes an interest in a photo—yours in this case—and makes an offer sight unseen. Congratulations. You’ll take home forty thousand dollars.”

Forty thousand. I’d be able to rid myself of Donald the non-duck for good, save my family’s house, and finally be out of debt. All I had to do was go through with it.

“Do you know this buyer?”

She shook her head. “No. But not to worry. After tonight, you won’t ever have to see him again. Now then, I have other girls to attend to. Put on your robe and go upstairs. He’s expecting you. In the morning, a bag with your clothes and phone will be delivered to you at six thirty. The car downstairs will take you home at precisely seven o’clock tomorrow morning. It’s our way of ensuring your safety. Do not miss the pickup.”

Right. The pickup had been in the instructions, too. I called it the being-held-hostage-all-night section. Despite my reservations, I did as she instructed, putting on my robe and walking out to the elevator. I prayed I wouldn’t run into any other guests while dressed this way. Although the robe covered me from head to toe, I didn’t want the embarrassment. But my worry was for naught as there was no one else around.

I stepped off the elevator onto the twenty-fourth floor, wobbly in my heels, either because they were high or because I was anxious. I should have been grateful I didn’t have to parade in front of dozens of men, but instead I could only obsess about the one behind the door of room 2455. Would he be kind? Would he speak English? Would he even get his money’s worth?

Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand and rapped my knuckles on the wooden surface. But instead of a stranger, the door opened to a familiar face.

Chapter Seventeen

Aiden

Any communication coming from a Delmont Security computer was subject to monitoring. That’s what I told myself when I brought up my assistant’s instant messenger logs. She knew I was security, but she didn’t know my specialty was corporate security and keeping tabs on employee communications.

The way our conversation had gone earlier today had me searching, though I wasn’t sure yet for what. She wouldn’t need the money any longer implied she had a plan. But what? Chloe absolutely would not have been stripping unless she’d needed the money desperately. A need like that wouldn’t go away suddenly. Guilt assaulted me again over blackmailing her to stop. In my head, it had been a simple exercise. I threaten, she tells me what I needed to know, I then help her. I’d write the check myself if I had to. If she’d let me. But no. She had to act surprisingly stubborn. Something I was all too familiar with every time I looked in the mirror.

Combing through her instant messages from the week, I could see almost all of them were with Teagan, her roommate. Mundane stuff about meeting for lunch. Something about good luck with the photographs. Then, boom, their conversation today had me glued to my screen.

No. Just no. This couldn’t mean what I thought it did. I immediately dialed Chance to verify my guess. One hour later, I was clicking through pre-auction, faceless photographs. I knew it was Chloe. Could feel it in my bones.

Although I knew this favor would cost me dearly, I didn’t hesitate to ask Chance for it. I couldn’t possibly allow her to go through with this. No matter what the cost.

By Friday evening, the tension in my body was at an all-time high. And it didn’t ease until I opened the hotel room door and saw her face. Her beautiful, yet shocked face.

“Aiden?”

My hand clasped around her delicate wrist, tugging her inside. I didn’t want any part of our impending conversation to be overheard. I’d already searched the room for bugs and was relieved not to find any. She was in a shapeless robe, but that didn’t keep me from sweeping my attention up her body to her beautiful face. My relief was palpable seeing her still in one piece.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“What do you think?”

She scanned the room as if she expected to see someone else.

“I’m the buyer. No one else is here.”

“But how?”

“Your communications are monitored at the office. Guess who does the monitoring?”