“Oh. You really take your privacy seriously, don’t you?”
He chuckled. “You have no idea. The entire building is reinforced to withstand a direct missile attack. There is no way into the parking garage without a thumbprint and a retinal scan. The elevator that led you up here also requires a thumbprint, and is one of only two access points to this floor. I have my own private elevator and garage, of course. Access to and from the room is also secured via coded doors. The only people who have access to the garage and this apartment, as I said when we first met, are Eliza and Harris, both of whom you’ve met, and Robert, whom you have not met, and likely will not any time soon. He doesn’t come here often. ”
“That’s…a little crazy, honestly. ”
I could almost hear the shrug. “I suppose so. I have my reasons for taking such precautions. It is not merely idle paranoia. ”
“You have enemies, then?”
“None that need concern you. ” His tone clearly dismissed the subject. “Have you ever been to the opera?”
“I…the opera? No. Why?”
“Would you care to accompany me?”
“Blindfolded?”
“Yes, of course. ”
“Seems strange, but sure. Why not?”
“Very good. You should get ready, then. I have a dress for you to wear. Eliza will bring it to you and help you get ready. Shall we say one hour?”
“I can be ready in an hour. ”
“Excellent. Goodbye for now, Kyrie. ” I heard an electronic beep, and the door opened, closed, and he was gone.
I went back to my room, stripped, and got in the shower. And, let me just say, holy shit. It wasn’t just a shower. It was a f**king car wash for a human. Aside from the giant rainfall showerhead directly above, there were eight adjustable nozzles set into the wall, as well as a wand for those hard-to-reach places. It was the single most glorious shower of my life. I didn’t want to get out. Every last shred of tension left me as I stood in the scalding, battering spray, letting the heat soak my muscles. Eventually, though, I had to wash up and get out, which I did with reluctance. I could see a lot of showers in my future.
I was toweling off when Eliza appeared, a gown bag draped over her arm. “Pardon me, miss. I was just bringing you your gown. ” She set the bag on the bed and unzipped it.
“My name is Kyrie,” I told her, uncomfortable with having someone treat me with any kind of deference. It was odd, and I didn’t like it.
“Certainly,” she said. “Would you like my assistance?”
“Sure?” I wrapped the towel around my torso and watched as Eliza delicately withdrew the gown. I wanted to see what it looked like so I could choose appropriate undergarments.
I almost snorted as I realized what my thoughts sounded like. Appropriate undergarments. Roth’s—and Eliza’s—formal speech was rubbing off on me. Normally, I would’ve just thought “the right underwear. ”
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The gown was…like nothing I’d ever seen. Not in real life, at least. I mean, I watched the Golden Globes and the Oscars and whatever enough to know that this was one expensive dress. It was…stunning. Incredible. It was the kind of thing Jennifer Lawrence or Olivia Wilde would wear. Not me.
I swallowed hard as Eliza held the dress up by the hanger. She nodded as she assessed the way it would look on me. “The dress,” Eliza said, eyeing me curiously. “It is a Dior. ”
I choked. “I. What?”
“Mr. …my employer, he spares no expense. ”
“He told me his name was Roth,” I said, realizing Eliza was under an injunction to not reveal anything about him.
“Ah. Mr. Roth. Yes. He thought I should inform you of this. ”
“This is a Dior gown?” How much would such a thing cost? I had no way of knowing. A lot. A lot a lot. “How is that possible? I thought those had to be, like, custom-fit?”
“The logistics of how he managed it are beyond me. But he assured me it will fit you perfectly. ” Eliza set the dress on the bed and went into the closet, rifled through the lingerie, handed me a black satin set. Strapless bra, barely there thong. I peeked a glance at the tag of the bra: Fredericks of Hollywood. My size, of course. “This will do, I think. ”
She turned away as I dropped the towel and put on the underwear, and then the bra, which pushed my tits up so they assumed almost unlikely proportions. I mean, I was fairly well-endowed, but this bra did literal magic for my cle**age.
She rifled through another section of the closet, and then handed me a slinky, silky midnight-blue dressing gown. I slipped it on, tied it, and actually sighed out loud at the luxurious feel of the cool fabric against my skin. “Why don’t we get your hair and makeup done, and then we shall see the effect in total. Come, sit. ” She ushered me to the vanity, held out the chair for me, and then threaded her fingers through my hair.
“You—you’re going to do my hair?”
Eliza nodded. “Yes. Of course. ”
“So you’re his housekeeper, plus you do hair and makeup?”
She smiled at me, the first warm, genuine smile I’d seen from her. “‘Housekeeper’ isn’t really an accurate word for my duties, I think. I do whatever Mr. Roth needs. Harris sees to his personal safety and security, as well as acting as chauffeur. Robert assumes business matters, and I tend to his personal needs. ”
“Is there anything you can’t do?”
She grinned again as she began brushing through my hair. “Close a business deal. Shoot a gun. ” She gestured at the dress, lying on the bed. “And wear that dress. ”
Thirty minutes later, she had my hair falling around my shoulders in loose spirals, swept away from my eyes and sprayed to stay for the evening. Shit, she was good. My hair looked amazing. And then, with the same efficient skill, she did my makeup. Light foundation, a bit of blush, smoky eyes, bright candy-apple-red lipstick.
She stepped back when she finished, nodding. “There. I think that’s good. You are very beautiful, Miss Kyrie. ”
I smiled at her. “Thank you, Eliza. I mean, for doing my hair and makeup. It looks amazing. Better than I could have done on my own, that’s for sure. ”
“It is no matter. It was my pleasure. Truly. ” She hesitated, as if deliberating whether or not to say more. She licked her lips, glancing into my eyes and then away. “Mr. Roth, as you may have noticed, is extremely private. He lives alone, spends nearly all of his time here. I am, most of the time, the only person here. So, to have someone else in the house is pleasant. To have another woman? It is truly a pleasure. ”
“You must get lonely, then, huh?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes. ”
I sensed it in her, and I wondered if she was married, if she had kids, or if she lived here, lived to serve Roth. I didn’t think asking her outright would be polite, so I didn’t. Instead, I just leaned in to give her a tentative hug. “Well, I’m here. For how long, I don’t know. But while I’m here, we can be friends. ”
“That would be…” She sighed, as if hunting for the right word. “Nice. It would be nice. ” A glance at her watch, and her eyes widened. “We need to finish getting you ready. Harris will be ready to pick you up at six precisely. Neither Harris nor Mr. Roth appreciates tardiness. ”
“Yeah, somehow that doesn’t surprise me. ” I took a deep breath. “Let’s get me into this dress, then. ”
Eliza held the gown for me as I gingerly stepped into it, adjusted the skirts and then fitted the bodice to my br**sts. Holy shit. This dress was tight. I mean, it fit, but it was molded to my curves like a second skin. Walking would be tricky, something told me. I very rarely wore dresses this tight. It was emerald green, sleeveless, the hem sweeping the floor around my feet with room to spare for a pair of heels. It looked a bit like the dress Jennifer Lawrence wore to the SAG awards, actually, just in a different material and color. There was a pair of heels to go with the gown, emerald green to match the dress. Shit. This
outfit was probably worth more than I’d ever made in my entire life.
And then Eliza reached into a pocket of her apron and withdrew a wide black box. When she opened it, I had to steady myself with a hand on the wall. Lying on the black satin inside the box was an elaborate emerald necklace, a pendant with an emerald the size of my thumb, teardrop-shaped, suspended on a chain woven from twisted strands of platinum. As well, there was a pair of matching teardrop emerald earrings, also chased with twisted and braided platinum.
“Holy…holy shit, Eliza. ” I bit my lip, just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. “I can’t wear that. It’s…I can’t even fathom how much that set costs. It’s on loan?”
Eliza lifted an eyebrow. “Loan? Certainly not. Mr. Roth has no need to…borrow…jewelry. ” Her tone was amused, almost contemptuous. Not of me, but of the concept of borrowing. “He purchased this set for you, for this occasion. ”
“I—I. Um. I don’t even know what to say. ” I sucked in a breath, extended a finger to touch the pendant of the necklace. “I’ll feel self-conscious wearing all this. I don’t know if I can do this. ”
“You are a very beautiful woman, Miss Kyrie. You have absolutely no need to feel self-conscious. And besides, you will be dining in private with Mr. Roth, as well as sitting in a private box for the opera. You will not be walking the red carpet, as they say. ” She put a hand on my bare shoulder, her palm cool and dry and comforting. “You can do this. ”
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“I can do this. I can do this. ” I breathed deeply once more. I forced strength into my voice. “I can do this. ”
“Now turn, so I can put this necklace on you. ” I turned, and felt her rest the necklace on my breastbone. It was heavy, and cold. “Now the earrings. ” She threaded the pin through my earlobe, fastened it, and then repeated the process on the other side. “Perfect. Now…let’s look at you in the mirror. ”
We went together into the closet—a term that didn’t begin to describe a space that was bigger than my entire Detroit apartment—and she positioned me in front of the three-way mirror. When I caught sight of my reflection, I had to blink hard to hold back pinprick tears. I didn’t look like me. I looked like some elegant, sophisticated creature that resembled me. The way Eliza had done my hair and makeup accentuated my sky-blue eyes and the natural tan of my skin, and the dress…Jesus, the dress. It hugged every curve, made my tits look huge and round and—if I said so myself, pretty damn perfect—and made my rather generous hips into an hourglass figure. My shoulders seemed slim and sharp, my breastbone and throat a sleek curve. The necklace and earrings sparkled and blazed in the incandescent light, their color a perfect match for the dress and offsetting my skin tone as if made for me.
“You are going to take his breath away, Kyrie. ” Eliza held my shoulders, and I felt oddly close and connected to this woman I barely knew.
“Thank you. ”
She nodded with a small smile, and then bustled deeper into the closet, opened a drawer, and pulled out a slim black clutch. Valentino. “You’ll need this. ”
There were drawers full of purses? How had I not discovered this? I needed to explore this closet more; it was a woman’s fantasy, in both design and contents. My mind spun.
I found my old purse in the armoire, retrieved my I. D. , some cash, and my debit card. I doubted I’d need any of that, but it didn’t seem right to go out without it. I unplugged my cell phone, and realized in that moment that I’d never called Layla. She’d be pissed. And jealous. And worried. Shit. I’d have to call her from the car.
I closed the clutch and nodded to Eliza. “I’m ready. ”
“I’ll bring you to the roof, then. ”
“The roof?”
Eliza nodded, leading me from my suite of rooms at a quick pace. “Yes. Harris will be flying you directly to dinner. Mr. Roth will meet you at dinner, and you will go together from there to the Met. ”
“Fly?”
“Yes. In a helicopter. ”
“A helicopter. I’m being flown in a helicopter to dinner. ” I felt dizzy. “While wearing an outfit that costs more than several houses. ”
“Welcome to Mr. Roth’s world, Miss Kyrie. He does nothing in half-measure. ”
“No shit. ”
Eliza frowned at me as she gestured me through a door that led to a small elevator. “You know, Mr. Roth disapproves of cursing under most circumstances. Not from any moral or religious standpoint, but because he considers it…unnecessary, and inelegant. So, a piece of friendly advice…consider attempting to curse less frequently. ”
Upward we went, exiting after a short ride onto a wide blacktop helipad where Harris was waiting, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. He stood in front of a sleek black helicopter, large enough to carry at least four people, possibly more.
“I will try. Thanks for telling me, Eliza. ” I turned and hugged her again. She was stiff through it, as if unused to being hugged. “For everything. ”
“My pleasure, Miss Kyrie. Now go. Have a fun evening. ”
I waved at her, and then crossed the helipad toward Harris. “Hello again, Harris. ”
He inclined his head to me. “Miss St. Claire. ” He extended his hand toward the helicopter. “If you’re ready?”
I nodded and he opened the door, holding out his hand to help me in. I eyed the step up into the craft, and then realized that I could not make it. “Yeah, not gonna be able to get up there in this dress,” I said.
Harris didn’t say anything, merely placed his hands on my waist and lifted me in. He did so easily, as if I weighed nothing. His touch was businesslike, platonic, not lingering. As soon as I was in and settled, he closed the door, and I fished my phone from my purse. I had one phone number in the “favorites” screen of my iPhone: Layla. She was, actually, one of maybe a dozen phone numbers I had, period. I dialed her, and held the phone to my ear as Harris slid into the pilot’s seat and began warming up the engine, flipping switches and consulting a clipboard and doing all sorts of things in preparation for takeoff.
“KYRIE!” Layla’s voice was a piercing shriek, so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. Harris turned in the seat and gave me an amused glance. “WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN, HOOKER?”
I put the phone back to my ear and sighed into the speaker. “Layla, calm the hell down. You’re making my ears bleed. ”
“You said you’d call me again, Key. It’s been, like, two days. I was about to call the cops. ”
“Don’t do that, Layla. Please. For real. Don’t. I’m fine, totally fine. ”
“You haven’t been, like, dismembered or tortured yet, have you?”
“Since I’m calling you, I’m gonna go with probably not. ” I heard the whine of the engine getting louder. “Listen, I don’t have a lot of time, so I just wanted to call and say I’m okay. ”
“What’s that noise?”
“That’s the engine of the helicopter. ”
“Helicopter?”
I laughed at the concerned yet incredulous tone of her voice. “Yes, helicopter. I’m in a private helicopter, about to be flown to have dinner with…my benefactor. ” For some reason, I didn’t think I should tell Layla his name, even though she was the only person in the whole world that I trusted completely. “And then we’re going to the opera. ”
“The opera? Private helicopter? What the f**k is going on, Key?”
I sighed. “I don’t even know where to start. ” The engine was roaring now, making conversation difficult. “Are you sitting down?”
“Why?”
“Because you should be. I’m wearing a Christian Dior gown, Layla. Matching shoes. Emerald necklace and earrings that could pay for a f**king mansion. A Valentino clutch. ”
“Holy f**king Jesus toast, Kyrie. ”
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“Jesus toast?”
She growled. “Don’t make fun of my
inventive swearing, damn your eyes. A custom Dior gown? Do you have any idea how much—”
“Layla, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. ” Harris glanced at me over his shoulder and circled his index finger, meaning he was about to engage the rotors. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. But…I’m okay. This is…I’m gonna go with this, Layla. It could be…good. Really good. He’s interesting. ”
“What’s he look like? What’s his name?”
“I don’t know what he looks like yet. And I probably shouldn’t tell you much more. He’s…very private. ”
“But you’ve met him?”
“Yes. ”
“Yet you don’t know what he looks like?”
I sighed. “Layla, it’s…complicated. I’ll tell you what I can, when I can. For now, just…don’t worry about me. I’m good. ”
“Okay, babes. Just be careful. Rich guys are weird. ” She made a kissing sound. “Go, then. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your fancy helicopter ride to your fancy dinner and fancy opera, Miss Fancy. ”
“Shut up, Layla. Don’t be an idiot. ”
“Can’t help it, I learned from you. ”
“Sure you did,” I laughed. “’Bye. ”
“’Bye. ”
I ended the call, put my phone on vibrate, and tucked it back into my clutch. “Sorry, Harris. I’m ready now. ”
“It’s all right, Miss St. Claire. You were very circumspect with your friend. That’s good. He’ll appreciate that. ” He flipped a switch, and the rotors overhead began whirring. He gestured at a pair of headphones with a microphone boom hanging nearby. “Put those on. ” I carefully slid the headset on, mindful of my hair, and the noise of the engines and rotors faded. I could hear Harris clearly as he said, “Buckle up as well, please. ”
I buckled up, and then had to grip the armrest as the helicopter lifted off the ground, making my stomach fall away. Up, up, and up, and then we banked, tilting to the left, giving me an incredible bird’s-eye view of Manhattan through the window beside me. “Holy shit. The city looks so different from this perspective. ”
“Indeed it does,” Harris responded, his voice clear through the headset.
“I didn’t know you were a pilot as well, Harris. ”
He let out a single chuckle. “There are many, many things you don’t know about me, Miss St. Claire. ”
“Such as?”
He didn’t answer right away, instead touching a button and rattling off some kind of official flight-plan information on a different radio channel. When he was finished he returned to my channel and spoke. “Such as…I’m licensed to fly helicopters as well as airplanes, everything from single-engine prop planes to military heavy lifters like C-130s. I’ve flown tens of thousands of hours as both a civilian and in the military. ”
“I thought you seemed like you’d been in the military,” I remarked.
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. U. S. Army Rangers, retired. ”
“And how long have you worked for Mr. Roth?”
He turned to glance at me. “He gave you his name?” He sounded surprised.
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