Yup, it’s there.
I feel the edges of the pouch and smile in the darkness.
Now that I’m so close to my destination, I can’t wait. I literally can’t wait.
My feet are faster and my breaths are coming out in pants. I’m swimming in adrenaline. I feel alive. Like I have more than one life in me. More than one heart and two sets of lungs.
Calm down, Cleo.
I can’t slip up now and have someone bust me. Not when I’m so close to my goal.
Finally, finally, after all the traveling and walking and climbing, I reach it. The exact guest room I was looking for.
“Okay.” I puff out a breath and glance from side to side. “You’re so dead, you fucker.”
I fish the keys that will get me into the room out from my pocket.
The tiny silver-colored key.
Okay, so yeah, this might be a little against the law. Like, maybe ten percent against it.
The keys in my pocket don’t belong to me. I swiped them from Mrs. Stewart, the head housekeeper’s, office right after my shift ended.
But hey, I plan to give them back tomorrow so this is more like borrowing. I’ll have to, actually; she’s weird about keys. But that’s beside the point.
The point is that I’m not a thief; I’m a borrower.
Biting my lip, I insert the key in the lock and it turns easily. The click that comes as I open the door is loud. Or maybe it sounds that way to me and I swallow, freezing in my spot.
God, please. I’m so close.
I need to do this. This needs to happen. This is my only chance.
Glancing up and down the darkened hallway once again, I count the seconds but nothing stirs. The mansion is still asleep and quiet, much like the night outside. There isn’t any indication of movements from the inside either. Meaning he’s asleep too. Totally oblivious of what’s going to happen to him.
Opening the door only far enough so I can fit through, I creep inside. The room is cool, courtesy of the AC. The night lamp is on and it throws the sleeping body on the bed into light.
Mr. Grayson.
A fifty-year-old guest who flew out to see the famous apple orchards of The Pleiades and take the grand tour of towers six and seven. They are more like a museum and are open for public display.
Yeah, The Pleiades is kind of a big deal for our town.
Half of it is preserved, and privileged people from all over the world come to see the beautiful architecture of it. Throw in a world-famous golf course or two and they’re happy as a peach. I hear that the tour alone costs more than what I make in a year working on the cleaning staff.
The other half of this mansion is where the Princes live, the oldest family of this town. In fact, they are the founders of this town with a line.
They built The Pleiades a long time ago and have lived here for centuries.
A guy once lived here too.
A guy with jet black hair and jet black eyes. A guy I haven’t seen in three years, ever since he abruptly went away.
A guy I don’t like to think about.
Anyway, enough history lesson. It’s showtime.
I’ve been in this guest room a hundred times before so I know where everything is. Namely, the closet that holds my prize.