The Figure
1113 Words
Adjusting my hair, I attempted to follow his trail.
Right.
Just right.
I lightly slapped my forehead in frustration.
I was the only one at the reception desk. The lobby itself was fairly busy, staff moving around from one place to another, but I couldn't possibly leave the desk unattended.
A guest had just checked out ten minutes ago. Another family was waiting near the elevators. Somewhere behind me, a phone rang briefly before being answered.
Normally, none of that would've bothered me.
Today, however, it felt like every little thing was working against me.
I sighed, pressing my palms against the cold marble counter.
From where I stood, I could just about see a female staff member a few feet away, helping a group of ladies with their luggage.
I caught her eye and gestured.
She noticed immediately, eyes widening before she began making her way over.
It was admittedly unfair on my part, but I needed a replacement, and I needed it now.
"Excuse me, ma'am," she said politely as she immediately attempted to leave the guests the moment she noticed me calling her.
"Come back here, b***h!”
The first lady snapped angrily.
Her voice resounded so loudly that it seemed to cut straight through the soft tune humming from the speakers.
Several heads turned.
Even one of the bellboys froze.
The ladies had obviously noticed my gesture earlier but ignored it since it wasn't directed at them.
"Where do you think you're going?" The lady's eyes ran cold. "Do you want to stain my bags on the floor, you wretch?"
Interesting.
A sly, dark smile found its way onto my face.
I'd recognize that French accent anywhere.
Miss Gulliver.
And her lovely mink-wrapped entourage.
My little gesture had somehow caused enough commotion to draw attention from all around the lobby.
Guests slowed their steps.
A couple seated near the lounge area stopped talking.
Even the concierge looked over.
In the silence that followed, I could almost hear my own breath.
The female staff I had called had already let go of the luggage she was holding and was making her way toward me.
Unfortunately, that only made things worse.
Miss Gulliver suddenly grabbed her by the hair.
"Wretch!" she screamed. "I said, where are you going?"
A collective gasp rippled through the lobby.
By then, the guards had already stepped in, attempting to free the poor girl and take control of the situation as politely as possible.
"My employer called me," the staff managed through clenched teeth.
"Ha!" one of Miss Gulliver's friends responded, pointing her finger directly at me.
The same one who had called me mémère earlier.
The rest of them erupted into laughter.
A few people exchanged uncomfortable looks.
Others openly stared.
People had already begun gathering around.
Young, old.
Watching the entire thing like some live show.
"The audacity you have to say that," Miss Gulliver scoffed, gesturing with her hands in contempt.
"Who the f**k does she think she is? Do you know who my—"
"She is Naomi Vale, and she owns this hotel."
The female staff cut her off with absolute disdain.
Geeeez!!
Goosebumps immediately rose across my skin as I watched her pull herself free and walk toward me.
She had no expression.
No hesitation.
Nothing.
Which somehow made the statement hit even harder.
Her last words caused a ripple throughout the lobby.
Guests immediately began whispering among themselves.
Some laughed.
One man actually choked on his drink.
Miss Gulliver and her entourage simply stood there frozen.
Apparently, that piece of information hadn't gotten to them yet.
For a second, nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The atmosphere itself seemed to pause.
"Apologies, ma'am," the staff said once she reached me.
"What's your name?" I asked with a smile, hoping to ease her up a little.
"I'm Ariana, ma'am."
"Next time, don't break character that much," I teased, patting her shoulder.
A faint smile finally tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Anyways, can you stand in as receptionist for a bit while I quickly step out?"
Only then did I realize I had gotten too caught up in the petty commotion and completely forgotten why I called her over in the first place.
"Yes, I would love to, ma'am, but I'm not exactly trained for that."
I sighed.
"Oh... I see."
"Allow me to call one of the receptionists," she offered politely.
I nodded.
"Thank you."
Her steps weren't as forced as before.
She carried her head with such confidence that you'd never guess someone had just grabbed her by the hair.
As she walked away, I couldn't help but glance toward the center of the lobby where Miss Gulliver and her entourage had gathered.
Her entourage had already retreated into themselves.
Two of them hid behind oversized sunglasses.
One pretended to be occupied with her phone.
The one who had called me mémère earlier kept glancing in my direction before quickly looking away whenever our eyes almost met.
Miss Gulliver herself stood apart from the rest.
Her face was flushed.
She took one step toward me.
Then stopped.
Then almost took another.
I nearly burst out laughing.
Almost.
Unfortunately for her, I wasn't in the mood.
I ignored them and turned back to the monitor.
The reception desk had access to the hotel's live security feed—something I had never paid much attention to before.
I began skimming through scene after scene.
Staff corridors, elevators, private hallways, VIP wings.
Nothing unusual.
At least not initially.
Wait!
I paused.
My finger hovered over the screen.
"Huh?"
There was a figure moving through one of the hallways.
Nothing looked particularly strange.
Not immediately.
But the movement...
Something about it felt cautious.
Almost too cautious.
The kind you made when you didn't want to be noticed.
The figure disappeared from one frame and appeared in another hallway.
My eyes followed intensely.
For a second, it almost felt amusing.
Like I had accidentally stumbled onto some couple playing hide-and-seek.
Or maybe a celebrity trying to avoid recognition.
But no.
Something was off.
The timing.
The route.
The way the figure kept choosing less populated hallways.
"f**k," I said aloud, frantically tracing the screen with my fingers because it suddenly disappeared.
"Yes, yes... moving up..."
Another camera.
"There."
"...to the side."
"To the side?"
I switched feeds again.
There.
Something was wrong.
Shit.
This was bad.
The figure had left the Signature Suite hallway and was heading toward the Presidential—
No.
Wait.
It turned.
For one brief second, I thought it was heading back.
Then it changed direction entirely.
Pantheon 99.
My chest seized.
Every trace of amusement vanished.
Victor was in there.
- Writer
