~Valerie~
The stairs are steeper than they look from the bar floor. Every step I take makes the heavy leather of my boots thud against the wood, a thudding heartbeat that matches the fast pounding in my chest. I’ve never been up here. This is their private space.
I reach the landing and stop. The air up here is different, quiet, heavy, and smelling strongly of expensive cigars and gun oil. There are only three doors. To my left, a thick oak door has the word PRESIDENT carved into a heavy wooden plaque. To the right, another door bears the title VICE PRESIDENT. The third door, tucked at the very end of the hall, is blank.
I take a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady my hands. The weight of the tray in my grip feels like a big deal. I shift my hips, feeling the denim of my shorts bite
