Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
But I’m not playing today. I’m merely surveilling the Degas because there’s going to be a tournament here later in the week, and I want to get my bearings. Of course, I’ve been in the hotel before, but only at the public tables. The high-stakes poker I’ll be engaging in later this week is in one of the private rooms, and I’ve made it my mission to steal to the back and surveil the space even if it’s not open at the moment.
I look down and go over my outfit. Perfect. I’m dressed in a silky white blouse and a slim pencil skirt, with pantyhose and black high heels. A ladylike purse completes the outfit, and I’ve also put on some expensive earrings and my best gold necklace. The Degas is an upscale place, and it’s of utmost important to blend in, seeing that I’m basically casing the joint. I pat my gleaming blonde hair and take a deep breath before putting a smile on my face. Then, I stride towards the entrance with a bouncy step, and sure enough, a doorman immediately opens the double glass doors.
“Mademoiselle,” he greets while bowing slightly. “Bienvenue à l'Hôtel Degas.”
“Bonjour,” I lilt back with a smile. “Merci.”
That’s about the extent of my French but it’s enough because I know the doorman doesn’t care about what language I’m speaking. What he and all men care about are my elegantly sheathed curves; my long legs; and the plush pout of my pink lips. Oh, and the fact that I don’t look like a criminal one bit.
“Bonjour,” I greet various staff as I stroll to the elevator bank. They smile in return because I appear as a beautiful, innocent young woman likely joining her man for an afternoon date at one of the elegant restaurants in the hotel. But then, I see him. There’s an elegantly appointed man is standing next to reception with one black brow raised in an amused arch. He seems to know what I’m up to despite the fact that I’ve done nothing to give myself away.
I turn my face, suddenly flustered. Is my plan already blown?
Stay calm, Ashley, the voice in my head whispers. He’s no one. Just a random stranger. Don’t lose your cool.
Reassured, I begin walking again without a backwards glance at the gorgeous alpha male. But I can feel him watching me. I can feel those crystal blue eyes sear my curves, and my insides go hot and wet in response.
Stay calm, the voice warns again. This is no time to lose your shit. There’s too much at stake.
Taking a deep breath, I resolve to continue on my path. Smiling sunnily, I step towards Le Café Fleur like it’s my final destination, but instead of entering the cute bistro, I swerve left at the last minute as if I’ve decided to go to the powder room. My blonde hair swishes as I disappear into a long, narrow hallway, and that’s when the intrigue begins.
Walking fast but not too fast, I make my way down the hall before pushing on an emergency exit door. As expected, the air stays silent because a lot of hotels don’t actually alarm the first floor exits. There’s too much traffic to have alarms going off every hour of every day, and it would disturb the folks gambling away their life savings in the casino.
Then, I make my way into the deserted hallway and steal down the narrow corridor. This is definitely reserved for staff only because there are no adornments. Fluorescent lights glare against bare cement walls, and to my dismay, there’s a security camera at the approaching door, the black half-dome ominous and silent. Oh shit, what do I do?
But confidence can work wonders. I lift my chin and smile brightly, like I have every reason to be here. My hair bounces as my shoulders straighten, and with a smile, I stride with sure steps past the camera before pushing on the next door and exiting the corridor. Whew! That was a nerve-wracking experience, and who knows how many more security cameras I’m going to face? But determination puts a spring in my step because I’m going to take them one by one. Surely, no one will call the cops on a lone blonde walking through the service corridors of the hotel?
Smiling like Miss America, I make my way into another maze of hallways, which again, are bare and unadorned. They’re almost eerie because they’re so silent, but it’s fine. According to blueprints I reviewed at the assessor’s office, I’m just about at my destination because the high roller rooms are right next to the auxiliary kitchen, the better which to dispense food and drink. It makes sense. Rich men don’t want to wait to be served; they want their appetites to be taken care of now.