When one of the lights turns on and the ding happens, they cheer. I could wait for the next one, or follow them in. Given the fact that I want to get out of this dress, I step in and swipe my card for the penthouse.
“Whoa, fancy lady,” a female sneers from behind me. I smile and remain focused on the climbing lights.
“We should party in her room,” another says. I don’t want to think they’ll wait for me to get off because if they do, I don’t know what I’m going to do. There isn’t a phone to call from in Finn’s hall and I now realize my mistake. I’ve seen Finn do it many times. He waits for the other person in the elevator to push their floor and chooses the one above it. Once they’re off, he swipes his card.
The elevator stops, opening up into the nightclub. When the group doesn’t budge, I do. I show the bouncer my pass—the one Finn gave to me so I can access everything in the hotel—and pray that this man doesn’t think I’m a fraud.
“Ms. Webster, thank you for joining us tonight.”
“I’m not,” I say, leaning in to him so he can hear me. “There’s a group of people on the elevator who think they can party in Mr. McCormick’s room and he’s still at the fundraiser.”
The bouncer picks up the phone and makes a call. Within minutes, Lamar, the man who escorted Finn to the club I was working at, appears. He looks none too happy about being out in the middle of the night.
“Ms. Webster.”
“Hello.”
“Follow me and I’ll get you back to the penthouse.”
He holds his arm out for me and I take it, feeling like a dwarf next to him. Inside the elevator we ride the few extra floors, standing side by side. He must hate his job right now, having to wake up and come and save me. It’d be one thing if I were a damsel in distress instead of a complete moron. When the door opens, I step out and am instantly met by the group of people I left behind. Apparently my ditching attempt wasn’t clear enough for them.
“Let me hold the door for you,” Lamar says, keeping his arm spread out so the elevator doesn’t close. The group looks at me and back at him. He smiles, nods and motions for them to get into the car. They do. “Have a nice night,” he says, letting the door close.
“Thank you,” I say, but I am too late. He’s already gone and I’m left standing in the empty hallway. I’m not even going to comment on the fact that he’s seen me naked and not once looked me up and down. Finn is lucky to have him.
Inside, I step out of my dress and hang it carefully in the closet. The scent of Finn surrounds me, making me miss him. I contemplate packing my things, but none of what I have now will fit in my carry-on and I’d be foolish to get rid of the clothes I brought with me. As much as I want to say I won’t return to stripping, it’s the only thing I know and it’s how I pay the bills.
Stripping down to nothing, I wrap myself in a silk bathrobe. Finn brought it home . . . no, not home. This is anything but my home and I shouldn’t let myself get into the habit of thinking of it as such. He brought it here and thought I would like it. He’s right, I do. Goosebumps tickle my skin and my nipples harden from the cool fabric and cold air in the room.
In the kitchen, I pull a glass from the wine rack and take a chilled bottle from the fridge outside onto his patio. I have yet to spend any time out here and quickly realize this is my favorite spot. I lean against the railing and let the soft breeze of the Vegas night swirl around me. The lights from the Strip are calling me and I have the urge to go down there and party. I don’t have to wonder what Finn would say, or do. That would be a one-way ticket back home and I’d have to hope for a prorated deal on my fee.
Lying back in the chaise with a glass of wine in my hand, I listen to the bustling of activity below me. The club is alive and the music is pumping. In the distance, you can hear people yelling, horns beeping, but mostly it’s quiet up here.
“I thought you were sick?”
Finn’s voice startles me, causing my wine to spill on the bathrobe.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I say, ignoring him and dabbing the stain with my bare hand. Finn is beside me, sitting on the chaise.