“Nope.” He pressed a button on the computer.
With a brief flash of light that reminded me of the scanner on my computer at home, it zipped down the length of my palm. No pain.
“All set.”
I lifted my hand and had barely done so when he held out a plastic badge to me. I looked down at my picture, which wasn’t half as terrible as the one on my school ID card. My name was printed there, along with Mr. Hudson’s address and apartment number, and the designation of “Staff.”
“You can go on up. You’ll be able to access the elevators with your palm. Mr. Hudson lives on the sixty-sixth floor.”
“Sixty-six? The whole floor?” I asked, reading it from the ID card.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t seem inclined to answer and was already returning to his bank of security cameras. With a small shrug, I left the office and re-entered the lobby.
The bank of elevators was easy to find, and I figured out the biometric panel easily enough. When I stepped inside, the elevator was the nicest I’d ever seen, with its glossy black tile floors and chrome walls. There was a tasteful painting mounted to the wall, and an electronic billboard on the side that seemed to list monthly events at the Imperial—which was far too fancy to have handwritten signs or a corkboard in the lobby.
The ride was faster than I expected, even with stopping twice on different floors to collect passengers, and I was standing in front of sixty-six all too soon. The process of getting cleared by security had temporarily dispelled some of my nervousness, but it came back in spades as I lifted my hand to ring the bell.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and blotted my sweaty palm against the side of my black skirt before lifting my hand to try again. This time, my finger connected with the ringer, and I pressed it with another swallow. It had barely finished ringing when a young woman in a black and white uniform opened the ornate door. Her expression of relief was disconcerting.
“Oh, hello! You must be Ms. Valentine.”
“Yes.”
“Come in. Did you bring luggage? If so, I can put it in your room while you’re greeting Miss Elle.”
“No, I didn’t! I wasn’t sure if I was staying.”
The woman’s face fell. “You’re not taking the job? Oh, but you must. Miss Elle has been so much easier to deal with since Mr. Hudson told her last night that you’re coming to live here.”
“Oh. I just wasn’t sure if I was hired or not. I didn’t…” I trailed off as the woman gestured for me to come inside. “Anyway, I guess I’ll bring my things later today.”
She beamed. “That’s wonderful. They’re both in Miss Elle’s room, and I’ll show you the way.”
I followed the maid, asking, “What’s your name?” as we walked.
“I’m Betsy. I’ve been with the Hudsons for almost three years.”
“Were you here during the divorce?”
Betsy hesitated to answer.
“Sorry to ask that. I shouldn’t have.”
The other woman shrugged. “It’s natural to be curious, especially since you knew Mrs. Hudson before, didn’t you?” At my nod, she said, “I can’t say much, but it wasn’t a pretty separation. It was hard on Miss Elle, but also on Mr. Hudson too.”
“I’m sure. What kind of problems is Elle having?”
“I’ll have Mr. Hudson fill you in, Miss Lindsay.”
“Just Lindsay please.” I stopped when Betsy did, waiting as the other woman knocked before opening the door.
It took every scrap of courage I had to step inside when I heard Ben—Mr. Hudson’s—voice. I braced myself to face him, telling myself I was over the crush.
I believed that until I stepped into the room and got my first sight of him in so many years. God, he was as gorgeous as ever. If I remembered correctly, he would be thirty-four, and the first trace of gray graced his temples. It just made him sexier than ever.
The lines may be deeper on his face, but they didn’t detract a single bit from his handsomeness. They just underscored how hard the past few years had been on him. A concern I had no right to have, I reminded myself as I took a hesitant step forward.