Page 2 of His Jewel

He nodded, moving to leave.

“Oh, and dress sharp. They have a dress code.”

He sighed. Of course they do.

Chapter Two

Josh

He had to hand it to Alana—she knew her cars. A vintage Rolls-Royce had arrived to pick him up at 9:00 PM on the dot. They were heading into the heart of the city. It came alive at night. As an observer he could appreciate it, appreciate the families, the couples, the friends, laughing and talking, not a care in the world. He could appreciate the buildings, the lights, the way the world seemed to meld and blend into a cocoon of color.

The car slowed, and the driver announced, “We’re here, sir.”

Josh thanked him and exited the car, straightening his black suit. It felt tight on his skin, restrictive. The cool breeze ate at his face as he took in his surroundings. Nothing special. Just some random building and a busy restaurant, looking to serve Italian food.

He frowned, getting out his phone ready to call Drew and ask what the fuck was going on, when the man materialized in front of him.

“Good, you’re here.”

“Yeah, I’m here. Where the fuck is here?”

Drew ignored him. “Follow me.”

He followed him into the restaurant, walking through the bustling kitchen, the smell of fresh bread invading his nose, and the din of shouts from the chefs invading his ears. He was about to grab Drew and pull him back, for he couldn’t be bothered with this bullshit, when they came to a set of double doors. There was a man standing there, big and muscled, with a communicator device in his ear. Private security. Why was private security guarding the basement?

Drew flashed his card and gestured to him. “He’s with me. Josh Hall. His name is on the list.”

The security guard looked him over, and then spoke into his communicator. After gaining confirmation, he gave a curt nod and opened the door to a flight of stairs. There were a few dim bulbs lighting their way until they came to one final door. When Drew opened it, it was like entering a whole new underground world. It was huge, with one main bar and restaurant area, thoroughly modern with black walls, gold finishings, and gleaming parquet floors. There were servers dressed in full suits with white gloves, serving drinks to groups of men and their female guests. He recognized some of them—they ran in the same circles, after all. There were various doors leading off from the restaurant, all uniform and glossy black.

“Alana’s office is this way,” said Drew, heading for a black door with a gold A on it.

He knocked once before entering.

The room was vast, with plush white carpets and mauve finishings. Actually, pretty much everything was mauve—the computer, the flowers in a vase on the desk, even her books on the bookshelf. Alana herself was sitting behind the desk, clad in a green dress, with medium-length brown hair and sharp, assessing, hazel eyes.

“Alana, how are you this fine evening?” Drew asked, walking up to her and taking her hand and kissing it.

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