I grab some more from the bowl and head for the elevator. I try not to speak to Hunter, but he continues to watch me.
“Going up?” he asks as I press the call button.
“I can get the next one.”
“I think we’ll share.”
The door opens, and he ushers me in, his hand around my back. The doors close, and I smell that cologne of his. Makes my insides tingle even as I clench my fingers into fists to keep control of myself.
“You left so suddenly at the airport,” he says, looking forward rather than at me. “Was it something I said?”
“I heard you talking on the phone during the flight. You mentioned Oswald.”
“That’s a bad habit, Bex. Eavesdropping like that. I thought you were asleep.”
“More fool you.”
“Let me guess. The talk of violence makes you think I am a violent man. I can reassure you that I am a businessman, that’s all.”
“No need to explain yourself to me.”
“You are angry with me, and that’s justified. I had no idea Oswald would be deported instead of imprisoned. I can promise you I will not let him come near you. My people are hunting him down as we speak.”
“What are you, my bodyguard?”
“No, I am a man who does not like to see aggression toward those who do not warrant it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The elevator door opens, and he steps out, nodding my way. “Until we meet again.”
He walks off down the corridor. I’m about to follow when I see Buffy emerging from one of the other elevators. She sees me and tries to spin around and dart back inside. I get my foot in the door before it can close. “Where did you put it?” I ask.
“Put what?” She’s got a smirk on her face like she knows I can’t prove a thing.
“Don’t bullshit me, Buffy. The dress. Where did you put it?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. Oh, dear. Did you lose it? That’d be such a shame, wouldn’t it?”
“Bex,” a shrill voice calls from the end of the corridor. “Come here, Bex. I need you.”
“You better go,” Buffy says, pushing my foot out the elevator door. “She’ll be wanting to know where her dress is.”
The door closes. I slap it with my hand, suppressing a scream as I spin to find Melanie beckoning me. “Where’s my dress, Bex?”
“Erm. I had it this morning.”
“I don’t see it in your hand.”
“No, you see, the thing is—”
“My office,” she says. “Right now.”
As I walk toward her, Catherine comes waddling past, crashing into her shoulder, sobbing loudly. “Catherine,” I say as she stops to hold her bump up, wincing in pain. “What’s wrong?”
“He just fired me,” she says, marching past for the elevator. She bursts into a fresh set of tears as I face Melanie. She’s looking from me to Catherine and back again. “To be continued,” she says, spinning on her heels and heading back to her office. I turn to speak to Catherine, but the elevator doors are already shut.
11