I wonder if Declan will be there. Though, if I go by my own deductions of his profession, he probably will. He makes girls strip in his office, so there’s a high likelihood he’s the one organizing the explicit events and whatever they entail.
And as an organizer, I’d expect him to keep track of the event itself to make sure it’s going well. So I’m assuming I’ll be able to catch a glimpse of him there. I just have to make sure he doesn’t see me.
He made it clear that he doesn’t want me there, but I’m too nosy to stop. I wanna know what he’s up to. Besides, he doesn’t even have to know. What’s the harm? In and out in a jiffy. He won’t even notice I’m there in the first place. And I might have the memories of a lifetime.
I only wish I could’ve asked him more about this before he cut me off again. We’ve had little to no contact since the last time we spoke via chat. Once or twice, he asked me to come to his office, but when I asked him if he’d tell me more about his job, he cut it off, so I said no.
We played that game for a while. But it became tedious, and I’m not in the mood for playing games.
He might not want me to delve deeper, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try. What’s a girl got to lose? It’s not as if he wants a relationship with me. I just want to know what it is that hotel does. And the name has to mean something.
I take a cab to the hotel because you never know what might happen in terms of drugs or alcohol, so I like to be prepared. My car will be safe at home, and I’ve brought enough cash to get a ride back home. I told the driver to ask for me at the desk around twelve p.m., so they’ll know where to look for me should something happen. You never know, right? Not that I’m expecting anything bad to happen, but it’s better to be prepared.
As I walk up the stairs, I’m passed by several men in suits, all adorning masks and accompanied by beautiful girls. I wonder if they’re part of the show or just visiting guests.
There’s also a whole truckload of guards standing beside the doors, checking people’s cards and whatnot. I don’t know what they want, but I don’t have it. I just hope I can pass through unnoticed.
Swallowing away the lump in my throat, I gaze through the crowd until I find a man without a girl, and I quickly shuffle to his side and wrap my arm around his.
“Hey there,” I say.
“Um …” he mumbles.
“Oh, I’m one of the girls,” I say with a flirtatious voice.
“But I don’t have anyone accompanying me tonight …” he says, sounding confused.
“Oh, no worries.” I smile my way through my lie. “I’m just here for the introductions!”
The guard stops us. “Card, please.”
The man seems befuddled, but then fishes out his card from his chest pocket and hands it to the guard. “Welcome, Sir,” the man says, and we’re quickly walked inside by the push of the crowd.
When I’m safe, I unlock arms with the unknown man and say, “Thanks!”
He looks a bit confused, but I manage to slip away through the hoard of people and into a nearby hallway where he hopefully won’t come look for me.
I didn’t give him anything. Not my name nor my face. The only way he could recognize me is by my dress. However, even that option fades the moment I spot some girls walk by in velvety red dresses. I grin. Good luck identifying me now.
When I’ve watched the man go upstairs, I follow behind the mass, traipsing up the stairs and through the hallways, not knowing where the hell I’m going.
Suddenly, I’m pulled aside.
I almost squeal but manage to keep it together when I notice it isn’t the unknown man or Declan. It’s an older woman I’ve never seen before.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Following everyone into the event room?” I say, laughing it off like it’s no big deal.
Fuck. Have I been caught?
“But you’re one of the girls, right? The preparations room is this way,” she says, dragging me along.
I’m completely distracted, but I’ll go with the flow. “Oh, okay.”
“Why don’t you know this? It was on the papers you received,” she scolds.
“Sorry, I forgot,” I lie. “It’s my first time.”
The woman frowns. “That’s strange. Declan normally never invites newbies to these ones.”
“He said I was special,” I add. God, I’m such a bad liar.
“Hmm …” Her lip curls up. “And what’s your name?”
“Uh … Kitty,” I make up on the spot.
“Where’s your sticker?” she asks.
“I … I …” Damn, why does she have so many questions that I don’t have any answers to? I’m running out of excuses.