Still, I sighed with relief when I checked the peephole. Only a bellman. He’d better not have an envelope with a couple of first-class tickets to Tahiti in his hand or else I’d send them back, too.
“Good evening, ma’am,” the elderly bellman greeted as he held out a large silver box.
Daniel was persistent. Most of them were. It made my job easier.
“Thank you.” I took the package and set it on the sofa table before rushing back to the bathroom to pull a tip from my wallet. I was going through tip money faster than normal on that trip, thanks to Daniel and his extravagant gifts.
“Anything else I can get you this evening, ma’am?” the bellman asked, nodding his head as I handed him the tip.
“Yeah,” I said. “If any more gifts, envelopes, or packages arrive for me, please just don’t accept them. It saves me from having to send them back.”
“Can do, ma’am,” the bellman said with a chuckle as he headed for the elevator. “Man troubles?”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Always.”
IT WAS A dress. A nice one. The price tag had been removed, but I didn’t need it to know that Daniel had spent five figures. It was red, curve-hugging, and cleavage-showing. Mrs. Silva really did know her husband. It was a gorgeous gown, something I could have picked out, but as I got ready the next night for our dinner date, it stayed in the box.
If I wore that dress, it would be a mini-surrender. It would be a victory, and I couldn’t give him that victory yet. I had to keep him motivated, and if I caved even a bit, he would believe the ball was back in his court.
Which it wasn’t.
With men like Daniel, I had to keep them in such a crazed state that when the time came, I could dictate the time and location of our “consummation,” and they wouldn’t only be there, they’d be there bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Keeping the Target motivated, crazed, and eager to please was the very crux of the Eve business. Spontaneous sex or giving-yourself-to-the-moment didn’t get husbands caught cheating on film.
A few minutes before eight, I punched a message into my phone: That whole if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again doesn’t work with me. As I hit send, I imagined Daniel’s expression when he read it and allowed myself a smile.
I’d just slid into my heels and was heading for the door when his reply came: That’s where your opinion and mine differ.
Cocky, cocky, cocky bastard. If he wasn’t an Errand, I would never, in this life or the next, let him near me.
However, it was an Errand, so I needed to shelve all of my personal thoughts and feelings on him. An Eve didn’t successfully close an Errand unless she checked personal at the door when she was working. And she didn’t stay in the business for long if she didn’t repress personal a good portion of the time when she wasn’t on the job.
Once I’d made my way through the foyer, I found a black Bentley waiting for me outside. A driver waited with the back door open.
“I suppose you’re waiting for me?” I said as I approached.
“I was told I’d be picking up a beautiful woman in a red dress,” the driver replied, “but I’m sure Mr. Silva won’t complain if I’ve got the wrong woman.”
I gave him a smile as I slid inside of the car. “I’m sure he wouldn’t.”
Before the driver closed the door, he paused. “So, which one are you? The right or the wrong woman?”
I looked him in the eyes and answered, “Both.”
“Sounds like Mr. Silva’s a lucky man,” he added with a laugh before closing the door.
In fact, Mr. Silva’s luck was about to run out.
Not even ten minutes later, we pulled up to a familiar place. The line winding around the side wasn’t as long as it had been on Friday night, but still, The Pleasure Room was busy.
I couldn’t believe the son of a bitch had brought me there for a dinner date. He’d probably screwed a girl over every accommodating surface. I wasn’t happy.
But tonight wasn’t about being happy. It was about driving him mad so when I gave him the time and place of his forthcoming demise, he’d shake his head and wag his tail. Tonight wasn’t about keeping him at arm’s length anymore—tonight was about bringing him closer.
By the time the driver came around to open the door, I’d recomposed my face, adjusted my dress, and was ready to saunter into that place as though I might have wanted to be somewhere else, but not with anybody else.
The driver inclined his head at one of the giants hovering in front of the Pleasure Room’s entrance. “Dimitri over there will take you to Mr. Silva.”
“Thank you for the ride,” I said.
“Glad I found the right-wrong woman,” was his reply before climbing back into the driver’s seat.
Dimitri had the rope open for me as I approached and gave me a professional nod of acknowledgement. From the way he’d barely looked at me, I guessed Daniel had threatened to cut off his dick if Dimitri made a pass at me.
He said, just as professionally, “Right this way.”
“Lucky me,” I said with a fake smile as I followed.
The Pleasure Room was just as busy as it had been this past weekend. Most of the bodies were congregated around the stage. One dancer in particular caught my attention. She was similar in appearance to myself, except her face looked foreign. Eastern European? Russian? Every girl up on that stage was gorgeous, but the way she moved, the way she danced made her the only one anyone noticed. She wasn’t just a dancer; she was a performer. A quick scan of the crowd revealed I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t seem to look away. In the most heterosexual way, I was enamored by her.
She would have made one hell of an Eve.
“Who is that?” I hollered at Dimitri, who was parting the sea of people in front of us.
“Natasha,” he said over his shoulder. He glanced up at the stage right as she started playing with the snap of her garter. He smiled while the rest of the crowd cheered their heads off. “She’s something else, right?”
“She sure is,” I agreed. That woman didn’t just have everyone eating out of her hand. If she’d ordered them to jump off of a cliff, I didn’t doubt a good number of them would. She was that hypnotic.
After we wove our way through the crowd, Dimitri shoved open a door to a staircase.
“No elevator?” I said, being difficult with him because I couldn’t with Daniel.
“Not where we’re going,” Dimitri answered, motioning me up the staircase.
I almost wished I had let Mrs. Silva know tonight was the night and to have her Contact ready to go. I was getting dangerously close to being done in on Daniel’s particular brand of bull shit.
My heels clacked up a few flights of the metal staircase. I glanced back to see if Dimitri was following, and sure enough, he was. As a testament to what a devoted employee Dimitri was, his eyes weren’t locked on my ass as it swayed up the stairs. It was a good thing Dimitri wasn’t the Errand, or I’d have had my work cut out for me.
Finally, the stairs ran out, and Dimitri stepped in front of me to shove open a heavy metal door. Where in the hell was I being taken? Romance had flown out the window a few flights ago. Once Dimitri moved to the side, I saw where I was: the roof. Several strings of white paper lanterns hung above us, and toward the edge of the roof sat a small table adorned with candles and flowers. The view was unparalleled. Nothing but the ocean as far as the eye could see, colored by the pinks and oranges of the sunset. The whole scene was romantic in a way I hadn’t expected.
And then a body stepped into my line of sight.