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She’d fallen asleep.

10

Paco Robles always strolled into D.G.I. with the swagger of a man without a care in the world, regardless of the weight he carried each and every day. At nearly midnight, with no one around, Paco’s swagger was for his own benefit. He’d earned that swagger the hard way and proudly flaunted it even with nobody watching.

Paco knew where all the bodies were buried because he’d done the digging. He’d been Alex Drake’s heavy for the better part of a decade and being around Alex all that time had rubbed off most of his rough edges. He could distinguish a fine champagne from a Napa knockoff, yet preferred the cold brew of whatever was on tap. Some days he felt like the right-hand man of a mob boss, and at others he just felt like fucking Tattoo to Alex’s Mr. Rourke.

Paco was well paid for his talents, with his greatest gift being his abilities as a chameleon. He could dress down and blend into a crowd or charm up a boardroom of CEOs. He commanded center stage when required, but, more often than not, remained invisible.

Swift with his camera phone, and discrete with a wide array of covert surveillance equipment, he captured whatever he couldn’t remember, which wasn’t much. With a background in mixed martial arts, what he lacked in build he made up for in speed and precision force. Few knew anything at all about him. Fife knew he was the only other person in the building with access to Mr. Drake’s elevator and office, and only one of three people with completely unfettered access to the entire building. Gina knew his payroll was off the books and he was paid strictly in cash every Monday. No records were kept. They were never to question any requests he made; his asks were to be considered those of Alex Drake himself.

Today, Paco’s task was easy enough. He made his way to his own executive floor office, through an alcove hidden behind Alex’s. There, he waited.

11

The cool on her skin woke her in the dark. She slid her hands up and down her body, realizing the blazer had slipped off. She felt around the couch, then down to the floor, finding it. She pulled it up, pressing it to her face and inhaling his scent. The sweet seduction of the night flashed back, overtaking her in a dizzying swirl of sensations. Falling back into a cozy replay, a few quick knocks at the door pulled her from her dreamlike retreat. Alex must be back.

The door slowly opened.

“Miss Madison?” a male, Latino voice called. Her eyes shot wide as the door crept open. She rushed the blazer around her shoulders like a kimono, and hopped to her feet, quickly realizing she was still in the stilettos.

Crap. “Just a minute,” she cried in haste, looking for anything else to wear, but he’d already entered.

“Sunrise lighting,” he said in a semi-commanding voice as the room began to glow softly. “I’m Paco Robles. I’m here to help you with anything you may need.” He seemed unphased by a half-naked woman in Alex’s office. Madison suppressed her disappointment.

He scanned the room and walked towards the window where the gown remained, unmistakable evidence of a passionate encounter. He scooped it up and bundled it under his arm. He then noticed something he’d never seen before. The boxes on Alex’s desk. “Unopened?” he asked with a surprised smile. “I don’t blame you on the earrings, but you really need to look at this one before you decline.”

He gently placed the dress on the desk, and grabbed the larger box. He headed towards Madison. Sitting on the sofa, he patted the space next to him, inviting her to sit as well. She did, mesmerized as he handled the box like a magician about to perform a trick. He opened it, pouring the contents into one hand. Another box slipped out, in the same gorgeous blue, but velvety. He then presented it, lifting the hinged lid slowly before them. Her eyes and mouth competed for which could open the widest. “Tiffany and Company, ten-and-a-half carats of brilliant, square-cut diamonds encased in eighteen-karat white gold.” He pulled it out of the box and clasped it around her wrist. He continued holding her wrist as his eyes met hers. “Hey, if you don’t want the earrings, can I have them?”

She laughed, playing along. “Absolutely. Why not? Diamonds for everyone.” He joined the laughter and jumped up. Just when she thought he was heading to the desk to retrieve the other box, he instead walked past it to the wall.

He pulled out an access card and flashed it in front of a panel. The wall opened to another room. “Sunrise lighting,” he said again, and the room lit up, drawing Madison over like a crazy, curious moth to a secret flame. “Miss Madison, here is where you can get ready to start your day. Panoramic views of the city, and the lighting will adjust as the sun rises.

“This is the shower, with room for you and seven of your closest friends. Three rainfall shower-heads, eighteen settings with programming and music options, and if you want to take a ride on the wild side, you have your own personal waterfall.” As he said the word “waterfall,” a surge of water poured out from above onto the stone floor below. “Infinity bathtub in case you prefer a soak. Over here is the toilet. If the lid is closed, it’ll open as you approach. The controller is in wall. Heat and cool seat options, and temperature and stream options for the bidet.

“This is what I like to call the magic mirror.” He headed to a wall of mirrors and picked up a remote. He pointed to the center mirror and pressed the remote. The center third of the mirror transformed into a television, set to the local news. He quickly turned it off.

“And, whatever you need, dryer, lotion, perfume, makeup, just press this button on the remote, and it works like your phone. You speak into it, and whatever drawer it’s in will pop open. And there’ll be an outfit waiting for you when you’re done.” With that, he departed.

She couldn’t quite process the room and all its glory, but spied the shine of a sunrise in the distance. Saturday was beginning. Her mind settled on a new sensation. It suddenly occurred to her that she needed to quickly master that Apollo shuttle console controlling the toilet.

12

After the single most amazing shower of her life, a sinking feeling overcame her. The reality of the morning after. Perhaps the party was over, with Mr. Robles acting as Alex’s charming cleanup crew. She pushed through the heaviness, resolved to enjoy it while it lasted. She grabbed the remote. As she said, “hairbrush,” then “dryer,” the dryer came out from the wall, while a drawer filled with ten different brushes opened from below. Trusting the abilities of this extravagance, she asked “lotion,” and another panel opened, with creams and lotions plucked straight out of Vogue. The same with the makeup and perfumes.

Armored with the fine luxuries the mirror bestowed, she welcomed the day ahead. Paco had equipped her with all the goodies only a jaunt through Barney’s or Bergdorf’s could provide. A wispy little number with a flowing skirt, a delicate thong, and a sweet, little Hermes clutch. Rounding out the look, a very unpractical pair of strappy Louboutin’s that made every pair of shoes she’d ever owned look like flip flops. Even if she wanted to protest wearing all these unbelievably stunning clothes, she had no alternatives at the moment. And, if this was the end, these were a pretty remarkable stash of consolation prizes. That being said, they were of little consolation. The prize she coveted most seemed to have slipped away in the night.

She glanced at the mirror one last time and swept her hair behind one ear out of habit. Seeing her naked earlobe set her mind to wondering. What was in the other box?

She returned to the office, and the rich aroma of breakfast and coffee announced their presence before she could see the food lavishly set up at the conference table.

Her tummy growled, reminding her that her dinner of cookies wouldn’t hold her over much longer. But first, priorities. The little blue box on Alex’s desk was calling her name. She reached over to pick it up, but found it slightly opened. She peeked inside, suddenly taken aback. The interior was bare. She started looking around, assuming the contents had spilled from the desk onto the floor, but her round of millionaire egg hunt was stalled by familiar chimes. Then a second set of chimes. She followed the sound to an elegantly covered plate of breakfast, with her purse from the night before lying behind it. The phone was compelling, but her hunger insistently took control.

She sat and removed the heavy lid. Hidden beneath was a little buffet, consisting of two hard-boiled eggs, bacon, sausage, a mini-croissant next to a small blueberry scone, a pot of coffee, crystal salt and pepper shakers, and a bottle each of Voss still and sparkling water. She started lightly chomping a crispy piece of bacon as her purse resumed its nagging buzz-and-chime combo, determine not to be ignored. She pulled out her phone, and it displayed the time as 9:30 a.m. There were several calls and twenty-two text messages. “Oh, Sheila’s Bridal Shower!”

She hungrily stuffed the mini-croissant into her mouth. About to leave, she retrieved a shiny new penny from her purse. She kissed it, then placed it next to the monitor on Alex’s desk, heads side up.

She raced out, setting her sites past Gina’s office towards the elevator. Paco’s shouted after her. “This way’s faster.” She changed course, and followed him over to an apparent second elevator. “Your chariot awaits,” he said, waving his card over the panel. The elevator opened.

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