Page 9 of Enthrall Shadows
“I’ll send my driver to move you to another hotel. It’ll be on me.”
“I’m fine, really.”
“What’s your phone number?”
She hesitated and then offered me the envelope. “Our contact information is inside.”
“Convenient,” I said bitterly, accepting the letter.
Holding the seemingly innocent envelope caused a visceral response.
As though I’m touching Reese.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Cole.” Lilly pushed up and slid out of the booth.
“You didn’t give me much choice.”
Glancing down at Dex, who was still sprawled near my feet, she gave him a pat on the head.
“I like my hotel,” she said. “I don’t want anything from you. Just so we’re clear.”
Lilly left her cup of tea on the table and walked away.
I watched her stroll through the foyer and leave through the lofty front entrance.
Once outside on the pavement, she turned left and disappeared from view.
Loosening my tie, I inhaled sharply, filled with an equal measure of hope and anguish.
Two shots of a twenty-one-year-old Macallan from the hotel bar and this is where I’d ended up—outside the doors of the grandest property on Bel Air Drive.
It was a ten-minute cab ride from my hotel.
The driver dropped me off before reaching the main gate. Even with a high blood alcohol level, I knew to be discreet.
I didn’t usually drink this much, but then again, it wasn’t every day you received a letter from someone presumed dead.
The gate opened for a silver Jaguar to enter. I slipped in, walking the rest of the way up the winding path.
Well,I was here now.
The grand palace—the best description for it—was perched above a canyon with a dramatic view of the city, encompassed by tall palm trees and other fancy lush foliage. There were no other properties nearby.
I saw a blur of movement to my left.
A fucking peacock, prancing around like it owned the place.
A red Mercedes-Benz slowed down to avoid hitting the bird and then pulled up to the front door. A young, well-dressed valet sprang into action, taking the car keys from the passengers as they got out of the car.
The couple wore cocktail attire and masquerade masks. I watched them stroll through the front door.
I hung my head, thinking I might not be able to get in.
It’s better to be here than back at the hotel.
With that unopened letter.
Before reading Reese’s words—if they were indeed hers—I needed time to consider the risk.
